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I hated how thoughtless I’d been. I should’ve realized how nervous he was back then. I should’ve picked up on that.
For fuck’s sake, I stared at him enough. Why didn’t I see it?
“Nobody is calling you that again. I’ll make sure of it,” I promised.
After dinner, I was making some calls.
Sean shook up the potatoes so they were evenly coated, then he sat the bowl down and looked up at me. “You asked,” he said. “Anyone else, I might’ve said somethin’. It was you so I didn’t.”
I blinked at him.
“You didn’t mind it because it was me asking?”
He jerked his chin.
Whoa.
“Do you like it?”
“Don’t hate it,” he answered.
“If you don’t like it, Sean, we can stop…”
“Did I say I don’t like it?”
“No, but not hating it isn’t really liking something,” I argued. “I feel bad.”
He flattened his hands on the counter and leaned closer. “Don’t,” he ordered, holding my eyes and I swore, it was as if he was begging me not to say anything to anyone. “If I didn’t want them callin’ me that, I’d say somethin’. Same goes for anything else they do. I don’t mind it.”
I thought about how often the girls bothered Sean at work while he was cooking, how Tori called him sweetie sometimes, how Syd always smiled at him and tried getting Sean to engage. And last, I thought about all those hugs he’d received the other night, plus the kiss on the cheek, and how he didn’t do a damn thing to stop them, when he could’ve.
Sean didn’t mind any of that. And I thought maybe that was because he was getting attention in the form of kindness from a bunch of women who could give it good, when he’d gone most of his life without it. In a way, even the nickname was done with affection. There wasn’t any malice intended. Yes, we’d been teasing him a little, but it was all out of love. It was just another way of us welcoming Sean into our work family and letting him know he belonged there.
I changed my mind. I would not be making any calls later.
“Okay,” I told him, smiling and going back to resting my chin on my hand. “We’ll keep calling you Stitch. I won’t say anything. You may resume the important work you’re doing.”
He chuckled, then reached for the meat he’d set out. “You like steak?”
“Nope. I love it.”
Sean unwrapped the two thick cuts and seasoned them up good, then he seared them in the cast-iron with some butter and garlic.
“So, that guy you were talking to outside, who was he?”
“ Logan,” Sean answered, watching the steaks closely. “We go way back. I met him when I was sixteen. He used to own a Laundromat I stole clothes from. Caught me one day doin’ it and could’ve turned me in. He didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Probably felt sorry for me. I was living on the streets then.”
“You stole clothes from Laundromats?”
Sean jerked his chin, explaining, “Easier than taking them from a store. You gotta worry about those bullshit security tags.”
Huh. Well, that was one way to beat the system.
Sean caught up some of the butter-garlic mixture and spooned it over top of the steaks.
“And the two weeks comment?” I inquired.
“I got my trailer when I was eighteen, but I couldn’t afford to keep it anywhere. Rent is no fuckin’ joke. Logan let me keep it on his property and didn’t charge me. He’s got land. I just had to help him tend to it. That was the trade-off.”
I smiled.
I immediately liked Logan and set a mental reminder to send him an apology for my behavior ASAP. My stationery would work just fine for that.
“When I got locked up this last time, he kept my trailer there, which was a good fuckin’ thing too, since I didn’t have anywhere to go when I got out. But now he’s gotta sell his land ’cause he needs the money. I got two weeks to find a place for my trailer, and I don’t know where the fuck I’m gonna keep it. I don’t got enough room here. Plus, the fuckin’ HOA wouldn’t let me keep it in my yard. I can’t afford rent. Not with payin’ on the house.” Sean shook his head and cursed. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do.”
“Can’t you just sell it?”
“Fuck, no. I need that trailer.”
“Why?”
“It’s my backup. I need a backup.”
“For what?”
“For when I fuck up.”
I stared at Sean. “But…you’re not going to fuck up,” I told him.
He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy one. “I will. I fuck up everything eventually.”
Pain circled my heart. How could he think that?
“Sean.” I waited for him to look up at me before I continued. “You will not fuck up,” I insisted. “Those girls are too important to you. And you’ve worked so hard to get them back…you won’t mess this up. I know you won’t.”
