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“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.”
