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Now whether she did so to be near him or, you know, so she could possibly stab him with her fork was anybody’s call.
Still, as everyone said hello and rose to shake his hand or hug him, anticipation and satisfaction flowed through Sean’s veins.
“Hey, B, you made it,” Sean said to Billy.
Billy rose and clasped his hand. “Yeah. Hey, man. Good to see you. Damn, you’re looking so much better.”
“Why does that sound like a backhanded compliment?” Sean quipped, accepting Shayna’s hug when she opened her arms to him. “Hey, Shay.”
Her smile was pure affection and, man, did he eat it up. “Hey, big guy.”
Chuckling, Billy shook his head. “No, no, you know, it’s just that the last time I saw you a plate kicked your ass and now you totally look like you could take that plate down.”
“Damn plates,” Sean groused, smiling despite himself. Defeated first by a tomato soup can and then by a plate. He was not living his best life right now, that was for damn sure. “How was the game with Dante?” he asked, shifting the attention away from himself. Though that wasn’t the only reason he asked. He was genuinely curious. He wasn’t telling anyone yet, but one of the ways he’d dealt with his restlessness this week was by putting in an application to be a Big Brother—and yesterday afternoon he’d received an email inviting him to schedule a series of interviews. Unexpectedly, they’d had availability last night to do the first—a screening session by phone. There was nothing that got you out of your own head like helping other people—which he knew firsthand and was one of the reasons why he took on all those overtime shifts. By the time he’d finished that call and scheduled the second interview, he’d been genuinely surprised by how much better he felt. Not fantastic, but also not hanging on by a thread, either.
“We had a great time,” Billy said, grinning. “I’d forgotten how much a boy can eat at the age of twelve.” He put his hand on his stomach. “My thirty-three-year-old gut doesn’t love that I tried to keep up. It was cool though. It was the first time Dante had ever been to a professional sporting event. He was so psyched.”
“That’s awesome, man,” Sean said, trying to resist the hope rising inside himself that he’d get his own Little. He could already tell he was going to be disappointed if they didn’t approve him. Why the shit had he done this again?
Man up, Riddick. Fine.
It took Sean about five minutes to make it the rest of the way around the table, but he wasn’t complaining about any of it because he had to admit that he appreciated the pick-me-up of his friends’ enthusiasm.
“Miss me?” Sean said to Dani as he finally settled into his seat.
One brow arched, she whacked his arm as she passed him a menu. “Mildly,” she said with a disinterested sigh.
He grinned and leaned in close, close enough that his lips were at her ear. And damn she smelled good—like something warm and floral that made his mouth water. “Sure it wasn’t more than that, D? ‘Cuz I think it was more than that.” He didn’t think he imagined the slight shiver that ran down her neck, and that also left him feeling pretty fucking satisfied as he sat back in his chair and flipped open his menu.
“You’re irritating,” she said as she sipped at a margarita.
Sean chuckled. Once, her little barbs would’ve had him biting back irritation. But since Dani had spent the day sending him ridiculous ‘Deadpool’-inspired texts, he knew this was just part of the game. And maybe it was more than that, too. Because her texts had been a big part of what allowed him to drag himself out of the suck after the day before had kicked his ass and left his body restless and his sleep fitful. The ass-kicking hadn’t been physical, of course. In fact, his chest was feeling better even though it still looked like hell, and the ache from the cut near his eye had dulled into nothing more than a nagging annoyance. No, the ass-kicking had been all inside his mind where he had no fucking defense.
The waiter arrived and began taking orders, temporarily halting conversations all around the table. Sean got busy figuring out what he wanted to put in his pie hole. But the words printed on the laminated page sorta faded away as his mind drifted.
It’d surprised Sean how much missing out on working that fire with the rest of the guys had left him feeling like shit, like he was letting them down. From there, it apparently hadn’t been a big jump for his brain to make to the nightmare.
The first time he’d jolted awake, he hadn’t known why. Sitting upright in bed, all he knew was the terror surging through him. Warily, he’d fallen back to sleep, and then came the one he’d had many times before—the one based on the real-life horror he’d caused.
