If Only You (Bergman Brothers, #6)(23)

I was wrong.

“Told you,” he says, shutting the door behind me.

I roll my eyes and walk past him with my yoga mat under my arm, straight down the hallway toward the smell of coffee. “You’re annoying.”

A satisfied sound rumbles in his throat as he follows me, though it dies away abruptly as I yank off my tunic-length hoodie. I glance over my shoulder, confused.

As he clomps in his boot across the kitchen, Sebastian scowls at the coffee pot like it personally insulted him.

“What’s your deal?” I ask.

He grunts, pouring two cups of coffee, sliding one across the counter my way.

“Sebastian.”

“Sigrid. Drink your coffee.”

“Listen, friend.” I pour a hefty glug of milk into my cup, which he was surprisingly considerate enough to leave out. “Yuval is going to be here in five minutes, and they’re not going to buy our friendship if you’re grunting and glaring at me.”

Sebastian sips his coffee and transforms his expression into a smooth, cool glance. “I’m not glaring.”

“You were. And you were grunting.”

He pulls his cup away and flashes that sharp smirk. “Who? Me?”

“You’re impossible.”

The doorbell rings. Sebastian and I tip our heads back, shotgunning our coffees in tandem.

“Well, Ziggy dear,” he says, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. “Ladies first.”





Yuval is clearly here for one person and one person only. To Sebastian’s credit, he’s been polite to them but firmly professional, not at all flirtatious. Who knew he had it in him?

Loud, angry music blares in his workout room, and after a gentle warm-up sequence, Yuval cranks up the volume. The sound vibrates in my chest, which I’m surprised I enjoy. I’ve always struggled with complex noise, and I assumed heavy metal would similarly bother me. Who knew I’d love it?

After standing, I walk off my mat and reach for my water. I take a long drink, mentally kicking myself for chugging so much coffee this morning, but I slept terribly, so it was that or be a zombie for angry yoga.

When Sebastian’s voice fades from his conversation with Yuval, I glance toward him, finding his gaze on me. He lifts his eyebrows, a smirk on his mouth.

He’s so darn aggravating, sitting there in his black joggers and a muscle-hugging silvery sage-green shirt that brings out his eyes. His dark hair’s tugged back, just the pieces that fit, the rest falling onto his already sweaty jaw and neck.

I’m frustrated with myself, with how aware of him I am. He’s my pretend friend, mercilessly egotistical, self-absorbed, and he only sees me as his best friend’s little sister who’s only worth his time because I’ve proved myself useful for this season in his life. That’s all this is. I just need my body to get the memo.

“Right,” Yuval says, stretching their legs wide on their mat. “Ready to move on?”

Sebastian nods.

I force a smile as I plop back down on my mat. “Yep.”

“We’ll keep it low impact, since Seb’s healing his foot, and, Ziggy, you’ll be exercising lots later on today.” Darn Yuval, being nice, making it harder to resent them for flirting with Sebastian.

Not that I care who flirts with my pretend friend.

When Yuval instructs us to begin with breathing exercises that involve lying down, I flop onto my back and glare up at the ceiling.

“And you were lecturing me about grunting and glaring?” he mutters out of the side of his mouth.

“I’m just tired,” I hiss-whisper.

“You’re pissed, is what you are.”

I glare at him.

Sebastian points a finger at me. “See? Pissed.”

“I’m fine.”

“The fuck you are.” He rolls onto his side, facing me. “The whole point of this is for you to find that spine of yours and be your badass self, so how about you do it for goddamn once?”

“Everything okay?” Yuval asks, eyes darting between us.

“Not quite, Yuval,” Sebastian says. “If we could get right to some of those anger-release exercises, I think we’ll be in better shape, though.”

Gracefully, despite his bruised food, he stands, then extends a hand to me.

Yuval smiles at him. Of course they do. “Sure. Fine by me. So, you can face each other, and this can be an exercise of mutual support and presence as you process whatever you need to, or you can face away—”

“We’ll face each other,” Sebastian says, holding my eyes.

My throat feels thick. I don’t know why. Why it feels like a pinch in my heart and a perfect hug—hard, squeezing, tight. Why, when I take Sebastian’s hand and he yanks me up, I feel a rush of something comforting and safe.

“Deep breath,” Yuval says. “We’ll go through a sun salutation, using ujjayi breath. You’re familiar with sun salutation?”

We both nod.

Yuval tells Seb, “I’ll model a modification of each pose that could strain your foot as we go, okay?”

Seb shakes his head. “I’ll be fine doing the traditional sequence. I need to move my ankle around. It’s too fucking stiff.”

Yuval seems nervous about that, but under the spell of Seb’s charming smile, they settle for saying, “Well, just please be careful.” First bringing their hands to their chest, they then lift their arms wide overhead. “Remember, in through your nose, out through your nose. If breathing becomes groaning, grunting, sighing, cursing, let it. Just let it all out.”