Something about the way he says it makes my stomach flip.
I look away too fast, pretending to examine a kitchen towel like it holds state secrets. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him in months. No earpiece. No gun. No sharp tension in his shoulders or haunted look in his eyes. Just Sean—barefoot, sleeves rolled, pretending he’s not the most disciplined man I’ve ever met.
And for a second, I forget who we are. What this life is. Who I’m supposed to be.
“So,” I say lightly, “what’s your deal, anyway?”
“My deal?” he echoes.
“You’re so mysterious and quiet. Always watching. Like Batman, but hotter.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” I raise my wine glass in mock cheers.
He leans back against the counter, finally abandoning the ravioli. “You really want to know my deal?”
I nod. “Lay it on me.”
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I grew up in Baltimore with a single mom and a younger sister. My mom worked double shifts at a hospital, so I got good at making us ramen and staying out of trouble. I joined the Marines right out of high school. Spent too long in the trenches. Got out. Moved onto security work. And now…” He glances around. “I’m with you.”
“That’s the short version,” I say.
“Pretty much.”
I sip my wine. “And the long version?”
He meets my eyes again, and I feel the shift. Like a door unlocking and opening just a crack.
“The real version is… I’ve seen a lot of bad shit. Been a part of some of it. And I promised myself if I ever got the chance to protect someone good… someone who didn’t deserve the mess they were in…”
He pauses.
“…I’d do it right this time.”
The words are soft, but they land like a gut punch. I can’t speak for a second. My throat’s too tight.
“Is that what I am to you?” I finally manage. “Someone good?”
He shrugs, eyes steady. “I think you think you’re not. But yeah, you are.”
Damn him for saying that. And double damn him for meaning it. It slips past all my armor, right into the part of me I’ve stuffed down with Axel, Nik, and Johnny. The part I thought I’d buried for good.
I set the wine down, fingers trembling. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll start to believe you,” I whisper.
Sean steps closer. Not touching, just near enough to feel his heat. My breath hitches.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
I want to hug him. To lean in. To be held. But, I can’t.
Not with Marcus watching everything. Not when I’m still haunted by my past. Not when needing someone feels like a risk I’ll never survive again.
So instead, I force a smile. “If you ever try to make pasta again, I’m revoking your chef privileges.”
