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Chuckling, Billy asked, “So, since you’re still alive, I take it you and Dani didn’t kill each other?”
“No, man, it was cool,” Sean said nonchalantly.
His friend’s brows lifted. “Really? I mean, that’s great. Just, you know, two days ago you were yelling at each other at WFC.”
“We didn’t yell,” he said, feeling inexplicably defensive. Of what’d happened that day, which he still felt bad about. And of Dani.
“Okay, you were talking vigorously.”
Sean shrugged, then grimaced as pain followed the gesture. “Whatever. It was good. She was a huge help and we watched ‘Deadpool’. And speaking of help, she brought me this ice therapy machine. Would you mind filling it with fresh ice and water? I’d rather use the ice than keep taking the pain pills.” He asked because he needed help with that. But he’d also asked to change the subject from Dani. He felt oddly private about the unusually easy-going time he and D had spent together and didn’t really want to share it or have people speculating about it.
“Yeah, of course.”
They made their way up to the kitchen, Billy a lot faster than Sean. “You have time for some lunch?” Sean asked when he’d finally lumbered to the top of the steps.
“Yeah, I’m free until about twelve thirty. Then I have a few security clearance interviews to do.” As a private investigator, Billy’s cases ranged from clearance to fraud to infidelity investigations. He’d even handled a few missing persons cases.
“I can order a pizza from the place down the street or I got cold cuts.”
Billy emptied the lukewarm water from the cooler unit into the sink. “Don’t go to any trouble. Sandwiches are great. In fact, maybe I should make them?”
“Nah, man, sandwiches I can handle.” At least he hoped he could. Though, he’d thought he could handle a soup can, too. The memory had him grudgingly smiling to himself. He managed to assemble everything he needed, including the last of the hoagie rolls he’d bought, and then he opened one of the cabinets and reached up for some plates. A ripping sensation stole his breath.
“Shit, dude,” Billy said, catching the plates before Sean dropped them. “I think stretching and handling any sort of weight overhead are off limits for a few more days.”
Sean bit back a complaint, because the man standing next to him had survived way worse. “Yeah.” He half-gasped out the word, unhappily admitting that the doc had been right to say Sean needed to take medical leave from work. Hand clutching where pain still seized his chest, he imagined trying to stretch the line or swing an ax. And…nope. Right now, he’d be a liability to his brothers in his company. Which fuckin’ sucked. When he could, he sighed. “For a split second I forget I shouldn’t do something until I do it.”
“Happens to me all the time. Damn burn scars are inelastic as hell.”
Sean gave him a long glance, because he’d never heard him talk about his injuries so casually. Or really, like, at all. Probably Shayna’s influence, if Sean had to guess. Because Billy had been a changed man since he and Shayna had gotten together the night of the apartment explosion that Sean and Shay had worked together, him fighting the fire, her photographing it. Billy was lighter somehow. Laughed more freely. Rarely appeared like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. All of which made Sean like and respect Shayna more than he already did. She was good people—the best.
“I’ll fill this with fresh ice after we eat,” Billy said, setting the machine aside.
Nodding, Sean picked up the plates laden with overstuffed sandwiches and barbecue chips. “This way.”
Billy swiped them out of his hands. “Dude. No carrying for you.”
“They’re plates.”
“Plates that just kicked your ass two minutes ago.”
“I don’t like you,” Sean groused.
Billy grinned. “Right back atcha.”
They settled around the dining room table Sean rarely used in part because he so infrequently had people at the house. No particular reason, except that, with all the overtime shifts he pulled, he didn’t really spend that much non-sleeping time here himself.
Over ham and cheese sandwiches, they talked about Billy’s cases, Sean’s call with the station chief that morning to figure out what he needed to do to take leave, and how the chief was sorry for what’d happened but thought Sean deserved the time off after the hours he always put in. Finally, they landed on Warrior Fight Club.
One more thing Sean was already regretting missing. WFC was part of what kept him level and helped him blow off steam. No work and no fight club? That was going to be a killer combination that left him with too much free time—and free head space—on his hands. “It’s gonna suck missing it,” Sean said. “But I guess this is one more way I’m benched for a few weeks.”
