Page 45 of Up All Night
I followed him to the window. All my appetite disappeared in a hurry. “Fuck me running. It’s a for sale sign.”
“Your landlord wants to sell?” Sean shrugged like this wasn’t a sign from the Almighty that it was time for me to pack up. “I guess it’s no surprise, given the history of this street and the value of land and property this close to downtown.”
“Fuck land values.” First, the ever-present threat of the diner selling, now my apartment.
“Take a breath. Everyone knows the real estate market around here is five-alarm fire hot, but even if your landlord sells, there’s no guarantee you’ll have to move. Tenants have rights.”
“Uh-huh.” I wanted to believe him, but my chest was cold and tight, that hollow feeling that had accompanied every move I hadn’t asked for. Sure, I was an adult now, but my ears still rang with the voices of social workers telling me how this next placement would be so much better.
Damn it. This was why I tried so hard not to like any one place too much. Attachment fucking hurt. And I liked this little studio, liked its proximity to Sean, liked Mount Hope. But liking was seldom enough for guys like me.
As if to prove a point, Sean’s phone vibrated along the floor where it had ended up. Somehow, I knew even before he picked it up that he’d be leaving. Likely with good cause, but my shoulders still drooped, hands and feet growing heavy and wooden.
Leaving the window and that fucking sign, I returned to the table and started packaging up the food while Sean talked into his phone.
“I’m sorry,” he said after ending the call. He was already pulling his jeans on. “Eric got called into a shift. Maren, that’s the oldest kid, asked if I’d come help her do dinner for the others. Wren’s bugging her to be allowed to cook, and apparently, I need to play peacemaker.”
“Go.” I forced a small smile. “It’s fine.” Sean opened his mouth like he might be about to invite me along, so I quickly added, “I need more sleep anyway. We’ll talk later. And here, take the leftovers. They can be appetizers for the kids.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t eat much.”
“Eh. It was really for you.” I handed him a neat stack of plastic containers.
“Well, I appreciate it.” He set the stack back on the table to give me a quick kiss. “It was…special, having someone cook for me.”
“I’ve cooked for you plenty.”
“You know what I mean.” He held my gaze, a palpable current of energy between us.
I nodded, not sure I trusted myself to speak. He was right in that this was so much more than sex, but right then, I hated that fact, wished like hell that this was only fucking.
“I’ll text later.” He leaned in for another kiss, this one soft and full of promises he had no business making.
“Thanks.” I watched him leave, waiting until I heard the outer door close before I crawled back into a bed that still smelled like Sean. I breathed deeply, closing my eyes. It didn’t take long before I fell asleep, chasing a state where I didn’t have to think about anything. I had the talent or, perhaps more accurately, the experience of being able to sleep anywhere at any time. Now that I no longer partied, sleep was among my favorite escapes.
Too bad, then, that I was still alert enough to hear my phone vibrate with a message. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I reluctantly felt around for it. Outside, dusk was falling. I hoped Sean’s dinner with the kids had gone well. I hated that I missed him already and that he was the first thing on my mind. Sleep was supposed to ease the ache, not intensify it.
I unlocked my phone to find a message from Tammy at the top of my notifications.
Gonna need you to work tonight. The replacement cook called in sick. Between that and a no-show meat delivery, the manager is fit to be tied. He called me because he couldn’t find your number. Oh, and there’s some sort of Honey family meeting brewing. Fill you in at work.
Already out of bed, I grabbed clean kitchen clothes. I was grateful for the distraction of work. If I couldn’t sleep, at least I could cook, lose myself in the familiar rhythm of a Saturday-night shift. Maybe things were too familiar though. What with the pending sale of this place, more Honey family drama, and the risks of starting something with Sean, perhaps the universe was sending me a signal I couldn’t afford to ignore.
ChapterTwenty-One
Sean
“Why is grilling season also idiot season?” Johnson asked as we surveyed a torched and still-smoking garage. We’d managed to save the majority of the house, but the garage, adjoining kitchen, mudroom, and deck were toast. Burned, soggy, smoldering toast that smelled like chicken.
“Be nice.” I wasn’t the captain on this call, but I could still remind Johnson that we were in earshot of the neighbors. It seemed like the entire cul-de-sac had turned out to watch this afternoon disaster unfold. “He’s not the first homeowner to try to move a barbecue into the garage in the rain.”
The homeowner had worked an early shift at the nearby shipping warehouse and returned home to place his carefully marinated-and-rubbed chicken on his fancy new grill. But it had been raining, hardly uncommon in May in Oregon, so he’d wheeled the grill from the deck to the garage. Big mistake.
“Nor will he be the last.” Suzy shook her head, hair hidden by her helmet. “He’s damn lucky he didn’t do more damage.”
“He’s lucky to be alive.” Tate, our paramedic friend, loped over from where the ambulance crew had been working on the thirtysomething man.
“You taking him in?” I wasn’t surprised to see the crew had loaded the homeowner into the ambulance. Smoke inhalation was nothing to take lightly, and his burns from trying to get the fire under control, even apparently minor ones, deserved another look. When we’d arrived, the man had been hopping mad at himself and the situation. It had taken Tate and Eric some serious cajoling to get the man to let them examine him.