by Kaye, Laura
And that realization made a headache bloom behind her eyes. The damn anniversary was only three days away now—or it would be come morning—and she clearly needed to take some time to deal with her feelings around that whole situation.
In her gut, she knew what the problem was—a letter she’d had in her possession for six years but never opened. Come July, every year, she had to grapple with whether or not this would be the year she read what was inside of it. And the weight of that decision after all this time lanced dread through her veins.
“So the nightmare,” Sean said, pulling Dani from her spiraling thoughts. She lightly rubbed his chest to let him know she was listening. “It’s pretty much the same one every time, which makes sense since it’s not so much a nightmare as it is a memory—a memory of the biggest mistake of my life, one that ended up killing two good men.”
“What happened?”
For the next ten minutes, he spoke in a monotone, describing how he was the leader of a firefighting team battling a shipboard machinery explosion that spread to neighboring compartments and then erupted into a raging inferno when part of the fire reignited.
“It took us seven hours to contain and finally suppress the fire,” Sean said. “Two died. Eleven were injured. The damage was so extensive that the ship was forced to return to port in order to complete repairs. And a fuck-ton of that—including those deaths—was my fault. So, no superhero over here, in case that much wasn’t already crystal fuckin’ clear.”
Dani really wished she could see his face so that he could read the sincerity on hers. But she stayed right where she was. “That’s a terrible tragedy, Sean. I’m really sorry that happened. But how could a machinery explosion be your fault?”
He shook his head. “Not that part, thank fuck for small favors. But it was my call to station two newbies who’d been on the job a grand total of three weeks on reflash watch. Somehow, there was confusion about how long had passed since the fire suppression system had been deployed, and someone opened the sealed door to the compartment too soon and without running all the necessary safety checks. That made the still-hot materials reignite in a massive fireball that killed my guys instantly. Somewhere along the way, I fucked up in preparing them to do their jobs. Maybe I joked around with my team too much and somehow communicated that people didn’t need to take things seriously. I don’t know. Andrew Keaton and Billy Westover were their names. Nineteen and twenty-one years old. They were fuckin’ kids.”
“Jesus, Sean, I’m sorry. That’s so damn young. But I know enough about damage controlmen to know your training is really extensive. You were right to trust them to be able to handle the job.”
A sound like a growl rumbled in his throat. “Obviously I wasn’t.”
“Do you know why someone went back in that compartment the way they did?” she asked.
He heaved a breath. “All the investigation could find out was that Westover opened the door at eighteen minutes past deployment of the Halon system. Twenty to thirty is standard minimum. Keaton was phoning in a message that got cut off when the explosion happened, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything that explained what happened.” A long pause. “And the not knowing has eaten at me every day since.”
God, did Dani understand that. “Whatever happened, Sean, it wasn’t your fault.” He scoffed, which wasn’t altogether unexpected, so Dani pushed on. “Did the investigation determine that your performance was faulty in any way?”
Silence. Dani immediately knew they hadn’t. “Is that a no?” she finally asked.
“Shut up,” he said.
The quick retort made her smile, but it slipped back off her face as fast as it had come. Because it was entirely clear now that Sean used humor to distract from hard or painful things. And since he was funny and snarky and sarcastic a lot of the time, she couldn’t help but wonder how often he might’ve put on a fun or funny demeanor to avoid things getting too real.
“What happened was terrible. I understand why you would feel guilty about what happened to your men. That’s natural to an extent. And trust me that I understand questioning why you survive when people around you die. But feeling bad or sad isn’t the same thing as being at fault. You didn’t kill those men, Sean. The fire did. An unfortunate mistake did. A young sailor who didn’t follow protocol did. But not you.” Dani waited for him to push back again.
Instead, he turned in her arms, both of them shifting until they sat facing each other. After sitting and talking for so long, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could make out the contours of his ruggedly handsome face. How had she so badly missed the depths of this beautiful man?
“You don’t think…less of me for knowing what I, er, what happened? Because I don’t think too much of myself for it. I seem to have a shitty track record of hurting people I care about—my guys, my mother, you.”
Dani was nearly dizzy with all the things that needed unpacked in that sentence—or maybe it was just the headache making her feel that way. “Of course I don’t think less of you. What I just heard is that you were a skilled, trusted, and well-liked leader with a deep sense of duty who really cared about the men and women who worked under him. And what I see of the man sitting in front of me is someone who is compassionate and sensitive, who has somehow been made to feel like he has to shoulder the blame for things that weren’t ever his fault. We already dealt with the question of you hurting me—you didn’t. I wasn’t paying enough attention, lifted my elbow away from protecting my side, and didn’t defend myself the way I should have. So that settles that. Now how are you supposed to have hurt your mother before you were even five years old?”
“You’re tough, you know that?”
“Damn straight. Now spill.”
Seam chuffed out a small laugh and smirked. “Ballbuster,” he murmured under his breath. She rolled her eyes. And then his expression got serious again. “My father said it was my fault that she had depression and drank. Neither started until after I was born, apparently, which made them my fault. And then she died of alcohol poisoning, which my father—”
“Your shitty father,” Dani interrupted, seething at the abuse that man had heaped on little Sean.
“—yeah. Definitely shitty. He said I killed her. That she was fine before I was born. That they were fine before I was born. And then I ruined it all. Just by, you know, existing.”
Dani gasped, and she felt heat crawl up her face. “What a fucking abusive asshole. Seriously, a cactus might be too good for him.”
Sean tilted his head. “A cactus?”
She waved a hand. “Oh, nothing, I was just thinking earlier that I should ride to Philly and tell him to go fuck himself with a cactus.”
“Ouch.” A smile played around his lips. “They come in all sizes, you know, so surely there’s a size that would be punishment enough.”
She frowned at Sean’s humor. “No, there wouldn’t be. What he said to you was outrageously inappropriate, Sean. It was abusive and it wasn’t true. Set aside for a moment the fact that you didn’t ask them to fuck and you didn’t ask to be born—those were their decisions—but you were a tiny, defenseless kid and he deprived you of love and comfort and security and that is so fucking wrong I could scream.”
Sean kissed her. Just a soft brush of his lips against hers. And then he paused there until she leaned in to ask for more. By the time they came up for air, she was straddling his lap and his hands were in her hair.
“I don’t think anyone has ever stood up for me like that before,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.
“Well, you can count on me to do it as much as you need from now on,” she said, making a promise that she didn’t fully understand the contours of. How could this sentiment feel so right and so wrong at the same time? She rested her forehead against his.
“I’m feeling kinda glad that truck hit me,” he said, “‘cause you wouldn’t be sitting here in my arms if it hadn’t.” For once, his tone was entirely serious, so this wasn�
��t him trying to deflect with humor.
She took his face in her hands. “Riddick, I will never feel grateful about you getting hurt, but I am grateful that something pushed us past all the frenemies B.S. so that I could be sitting here in your arms right now.”
This time when they kissed, it stayed soft and sweet. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” he said, kissing her again.
“I’m not.”
“Think you can get back to sleep again?”
“Yeah, probably,” she said.
They moved to get under the covers, but this time he held out an arm, inviting her to snuggle in. She accepted the invitation, fitting herself in against the side of his big body. When he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tighter, Dani could’ve cried at how good it felt—both because it’d been so long since she’d last been held this way, and because she imagined embracing like this wasn’t something Sean was used to doing.
So she lifted a knee atop his thigh and pressed her face into crook of his neck to give him the full snuggling experience. If you were going to do something, you might as well do it right.
“Mmm.” The appreciative sound came from deep in his throat. “Night, D.”
“Night, Sean.”
Now, Dani just had to decide, was this going to become an us thing, too?
Chapter Seventeen
Sean woke up with a smile, which was not a thing that usually happened. But it dropped back off his sleepy face the second he realized Daniela wasn’t still with him in his bed.
Fuck, had she left in the middle of the night? His gut was saying no way, but that old sabotaging part of his brain was saying she probably ran as fast as she fuckin’ could, sucka!
He shifted onto one elbow. “Daniela?”
“Sean.”
The voice was no more than a croak, and it was coming…from under his bed. “What the shit?” He peered over the edge—and found Daniela laying in a ball on the carpet wearing only her T-shirt and thong. “Why are you on the floor? How long have you been down there?” He was off the bed and kneeling next to her in an instant.
“Not long,” she said. “I’m sorry I had to wake you up again.”
Frowning, he brushed the hair back off her face. “Never apologize for needing me, Dani. Fuck, you’re burning up.” He cupped his hand against her forehead.
“Are you saying I’m hot?” she asked weakly, not quite managing a smile.
“You know that shit is true,” he said, not feeling up to joking around when her skin felt so scarily warm.
“I was making my way back from the bathroom when nausea and dizziness hit me so hard I wasn’t sure if I was going to throw up or pass out. And…uh, oh God,” she put her hand to her mouth.
Sean bolted to the bathroom, grabbed the trash can, and returned to her. “Here.”
Dani curled over it, and Sean felt so damn bad for her. He scooped her hair into one hand and held it back as she puked. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, D. Whatever you need.”
She peered up at him, her face ashen. “I think it’s passed for now.”
“Think you could get into bed?” he asked.
“Maybe?”
“Come on.” He nearly lifted her himself when she proved a little shaky. She groaned and pressed a hand to her head. “Hurting?”
“Yeah,” she said, crawling into his spot. Laying on her side, she drew her knees up until she was in a tight ball.
“I have Tylenol and Aleve. Preference?”
“Better go with Tylenol with my belly feeling like this,” she said, her eyes glassy.
“Okay. You rest. Be right back.” He scooped up the trash can to clean out. Sean’s gut was a knot of concern as he did that then found the Tylenol and a thermometer in his bathroom medicine cabinet. He filled a cup with water, rushed back to her, and settled on the edge of the bed. “Here you go.”
Dani lifted her head enough to swallow. “Thank you.”
“Open your mouth,” he said. He pushed the button on the digital thermometer, and she complied immediately. He smirked. “Remind me to tell you to do that under different circumstances.”
She managed a weak guffaw. “Keep dreaming, Riddick.”
“Sshh. Take your temp, woman.”
“So bossy.”
“You and I both know you like my bossy side.” He nailed her with a stare. “Now put that in your mouth before I hold you down and make you.”
“I’m mildly aroused right now,” she mumbled around the thermometer while fighting a grin.
“Jesus,” he said, enjoying talking to her. Liking being able to take care of her even though he hated that she didn’t feel good. And that made him think about the conversation they’d had in the middle of the night. He wasn’t sure he’d ever talked to another living soul about his mother, but it just felt so…easy with Dani. And God, the way she’d fought with him—fought for him—when he’d told her about the fire and how he felt he’d failed his team. It’d knocked his world off its axis a bit if he was being honest.
Which was when realization hit him over the head even harder than that truck had managed to do—he had feelings for Dani. His gut checked that assessment and decided that wasn’t stating the case strongly enough. He didn’t just have feelings, he…loved Daniela England.
No, he was in love with her.
Jesus Christ, he was in love. For the first time in his whole fuckin’ life. He was in love with this gorgeous, brilliant, brave, caring, fierce, ball-busting woman. Now what was he going to do about that?
Beeping interrupted his thoughts. “One-oh-two-point-one. Not terrible.”
“Uh, that’s pretty terrible in my book, D,” he said, head kinda spinning from worry and love. Apparently. “You rest for a while. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Why don’t you take me home so I don’t get you sick, too?” she said.
“Fuck that, D. If you really think you can make the trip home and you’d be more comfortable at your own place, I’ll take you. But I’ll be staying. No way I’m leaving you alone right now.” He nailed her with a stare, a fierce feeling of protectiveness roaring through him. Damn. Was this what love felt like? ‘Cause right about now he’d do anything to make Dani feel better, to make sure she was okay.
Shit, she had to be okay.
She put her hand on his. “No, you’re right. I’ll stay.”
He was too concerned to even make a joke of her saying he was right. “Good. Okay. Hang tight.”
“I’ll be here.”
Right where I want you to be. But he just nodded and made for the door. Downstairs in the kitchen, he debated what to do. Was it ‘feed a fever, starve a cold’ or ‘feed a cold, starve a fever’? Fuck if he knew. So he googled that shit to learn that the medieval dude who came up with that saying in the first place was talking out of his ass. So, feeding was fine. Now, what did he have that might work for how Dani was feeling.
Rummaging through his pantry and fridge, he began pulling things out onto the counter. Saltine crackers, a banana, bottles of water and Gatorade. He also had a few popsicles left. From the laundry room, he grabbed a washcloth that he soaked with cold water. And then he remembered the bottle of Pepto in the junk drawer and added that to the mix, too. What else? He grabbed a big glass and filled it with crushed ice from the dispenser on the fridge door. Nodding, he surveyed the situation. He needed a way to carry all this up there. He snapped his fingers, opened the cabinet by the stove, and grabbed a cookie sheet. When it was loaded up, he made his way upstairs.
Back in the bedroom, he moved as quietly as he could even though cookie sheets seemed to amplify every fuckin’ little noise. But no matter because Dani was still awake.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey. I brought provisions.” He pushed the clock and lamp on the nightstand to make room for his makeshift tray.
“Did you bake me cookies?” she asked, smirking. Which at least was a sign of her normal self.
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Sean arched an eyebrow. “No, ball-buster. I improvised. Now, what would you like?”
Chuckling, Dani propped herself up a little. “Looks like you thought of everything. Let me try the ice and see if that will stay down.” He handed her the cup of ice and a spoon, too. “Aw, you even brought a spoon? That’s so thoughtful.” She looked at the spoon for an oddly long moment before she finally took a bite of the ice.
“I didn’t know if you’d be able to lift your head enough to eat them right out of the cup,” he said, hovering by the side of the bed and wanting to do something more.
“Sit down with me.”
He grabbed the cold washcloth and sat. “I brought this for your forehead. And there’s Pepto if you think that’ll help.”
She situated the folded cloth and took another bite of ice. It was strange seeing Dani down for the count like this, and Sean really hated it. It was so damn wrong.
“That feels good, thanks. Hey, what flavor are the popsicles?”
“Red and orange,” he said.
She laughed weakly. “Red isn’t a flavor.”
He smirked. “Red is too a flavor and it happens to be my second favorite so you should feel honored.”
“What’s your first favorite?” Dani asked around another bite of ice.
“Purple. Grape. Whatev. I ate those first and they were all gone or I would’ve shared.”
“I definitely feel honored.”
“Shut up.”
She softly smacked his leg. “I was being serious.” Her black hair was mussed and her face was flush, but she was smiling up at him like he mattered to her and it made her the most gorgeous woman he’d ever known.
Damn it all to hell he fuckin’ loved her.
The feeling was like a pressure in his chest, one that demanded release. But he wasn’t saying a word right now, not while she wasn’t herself. Because he had no clue how she was going to react. Them joking about ‘Deadpool’ being an “us thing” didn’t mean they were in a relationship, after all.
