“Please wait,” he repeated. Before you do something you can’t undo.

She stared at him, her big down coat halfway zipped, her hair messy from her hands. And she just put her face in her hands and cried.

She was quiet and sweet, but the sobs racked her body. Seb did the only thing he could think to do. He led her into her favorite room of the house, the kitchen, and unzipped her coat. He tossed it aside, right onto the floor, and gave his own the same treatment. Seb hiked her up onto the counter and shucked off her boots, chucking them down the hall, like that would keep her from leaving. He left her just long enough to put a pot of water on to boil. And then he was back at her knees, spreading them and inserting himself into her space. His arms went around her and his hands worked up and down her spine, one and then the other, a hot constant band of reassurance. He enveloped her and soon her sobs subsided.

He could hear the water heating behind him. He wrenched open his pantry, pulled out chamomile tea, and then, on second thought, his emergency bottle of bourbon. He made a cup of tea and filled a shot glass with whiskey.

He set both beside Via. Looked at them. Took a swig of her tea, took the shot and refilled it. She laughed a little through her tears.

“Here.” He held up the tea. “And if you want it.” He held up the fresh shot.

She took it.

“Please, baby. Tell me. Tell me what’s happening.” His hands went all the way down her arms. She swallowed down some of the tea and took a deep breath.

“I’m scared.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Of what?” He paused. “I mean, me, too. God, me, too. But what is it that you’re scared of?”

“What if...” she sniffled “...what if I’m bad for you?”

A fresh bout of tears blossomed and Seb wiped them away with his rough thumbs.

“Jesus. There’s a whole cloud of fear in this kitchen right now. From both sides. Okay.” He paced away. “For the record,” he said, pointing out back toward the woodshop, “that is not how I thought that was going to go.”

She laughed again.

“Okay.” Seb was hitting a stride. Weirdly, it was Muriel’s words that were fortifying him. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We gotta get the fears out into the open. We’ve gotta just say them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, fuck our fears. Let’s just air them out so we can realize how freaking stupid they are. Yeah? You said one. You’re scared you’re bad for me. Utterly ridiculous, by the way. You’re so good for me that I pretty much could only see you and Matty for the rest of my life and be straight-up thrilled. But yeah, you said one. So now it’s my turn.” He took a deep breath. “I’m scared that I’m too old for you.”