Serendipity || Sebastian Stan x OC

20. A Sunday Kind Of Love

FOUR WEEKS LATER

📍Singapore

Spencer

Home.

I never thought I would've felt that feeling again. The feeling of security and warmth. The feeling that if I were to ever fall... someone would be there to catch me.

I felt this once before, you know. I did. Truly. That sliver of peace I had the week before I lost my parents.

We were at the cabin in Montana, dad was teaching me how to fish off the dock and mom was sitting there basking in the Saturday afternoon sun with her scheduled glass of wine. I was happy.

I caught my first fish, dad showed me how to get it off the hook. I got my first knee scrape running up the dirt road. Tripped and fell, minor scrape, but knowing me I made it a bigger deal than it needed to be.

I was daddy's little girl, of course I had to milk it. But then that was over in the blink of an eye. I was six years old, just about to start my first year of kindergarten and my life got turned upside down.

I watched my parents get buried side by side, seeing them being lowered into the ground. That was the day my life turned to hell.

That was the day Miller got custody. That was the day that my life turned to shit.

But I wouldn't give up a single moment, a vile night, a misstep in the wrong direction, not in a million years.

Because despite everything I went through... it led me to you—

"What are you cooking up in that journal today?" Sebastian groans as his whole body falls next to mine.

Writing in my journal, I was hoisted up in my forearms, flipping the pages and watching as the pen marks the page.

I smile, not pulling my eyes from the words below me. "Nothing you need to know about." I smirk a little more, placing a period after my last thought.

Sebastian rests his head on his arm and he hoists himself up into his elbow, laying on the full length of his side. "Are you writing about me?" He smiles up at me brightly, his beautiful teeth making their full appearance.

"What? No!" I slam my journal shut, turning my body and resting my head on my fist, mirroring him.

His laugh takes over his whole body as he bunches over, "Oh you totally are!"

"Am not!" I laugh in return.

His little hand makes his way over to my pages, "What is it this time? You're talking about how much of a dick I was." He tries opening the first few pages.

I slam my hand back on top of his,"No."

He points his finger at me, contorting his face into making me think he's actually thinking for once. "You're talking about how you suck at driving."

"What?" I whip my head up from my journal to his gleaming smile.

"What?" He asks back in a question, masking his initial statement.

My jaw drops, gawking at his comment, "Did you really just say that?"

"No?" He asks once again in question form.

I shove his shoulder backwards as he just rolls with it and moves onto his back. "Ugh, you are such a piece of work!"

He lays there with hands on his chest, looking up at the ceiling, "Mmm, sure I am. Let me read those pages." He smiles and lets out a low laugh.