It was Friday night, and I had a major hankering for pizza.

Though, if I was being honest, I knew it wasn’t just the hankering that had me suggesting the idea to the boys after Eli and I picked Dominic up after his math tutoring.

Pizza wasn’t just delicious and a huge hit with my brothers, especially pizza from Frank’s, who killed it in the crust game. Pizza was also a portable food, and I needed a portable food if I was going to surprise Sean with dinner.

He had helped me out in a major way this week. Not only were the boys’ afterschool activities covered without a hitch, thanks to Sean taking Eli for me while I took care of Dom and vice versa, but Dominic had gone over Sean’s house several days to continue working out his anger, and now he was damn near pleasant to be around.

And Sean was to thank for that.

I wanted to do something unexpected for him. What better way was there than showing up with a couple pies from Frank’s, some ice-cold beverages, and fresh treats from Duck Donuts?

After confirming with Tori that Sean was not at work and getting affirmative yeses on the pizza and donut plan from the boys, I called in our order and drove us to Frank’s.

“Wait here. I’ll just be a minute,” I told my brothers, leaving the car running and getting out after grabbing money out of my bag.

I headed inside the small pizza shop, which didn’t look like much on the outside, but looks were deceiving. Everyone knew Frank’s Pizza kicked ass. And since it was Friday night and everyone knew Frank’s Pizza kicked ass, the place was mobbed.

After checking on my order and being told it would be another minute, I squeezed between the carryout crowd and stood toward the back so I wouldn’t block people coming up to the register.

I was thinking about which donuts we should order when I felt a gentle tapping on the back of my leg.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw a little girl with golden-blonde pigtails smiling up at me. She couldn’t have been much older than five, and she had on more pink than I’d ever seen in my entire life.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she returned in the sweetest little voice. “I like your hair.”

“Oh, well, thank you very much.” How stinking cute was she? “I like your hair. And your shoes. Those are so pretty.”

She smiled up at me and toed one of her pink, glittered ballet flats.

“Caroline,” a woman said, rushing over with a smaller child in her arms, this one also a girl with golden-blonde pigtails. “Sorry.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “She gravitates toward pink. In case you didn’t pick up on that.”

“That’s okay. She wasn’t bothering me.”

The woman, who I’d guess was in her mid to late twenties, had blonde hair like the two girls. She was pretty, with small, delicate features, sapphire eyes, and a brilliant smile. And she had killer taste in clothes. She was wearing a camo jacket and black tattered skinny jeans tucked into combat boots.

“I love the pink,” she said, pointing at my hair, then adjusted the child on her hip. “That’s really cool.”

“Thanks. I like playing around. Habits of a stylist, I guess.”

“Oh, you did that yourself?”

I nodded, smiling.

“So, you do hair?”

“Yep.”

“In Dogwood? Which salon are you at?”

“I’m actually working out of my apartment right now. I’m starting my own business.”

“Oh, that’s cool! Good for you.”

“Thank you.” My chest warmed with pride.

The woman pulled her hair over one shoulder and winced as she played with the ends. “I need to get my hair done so bad,” she said. “The girl I was going to moved three months ago, and I’m terrible about just going somewhere and trying someone new. I’m nervous I’ll end up with—”

“Pink hair,” I cut in, smiling at her.

She chuckled. “A girlfriend of mine had a terrible experience once.”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t give you pink hair,” I told her. “Unless you asked for it.”

“I’m sure someone would love that.” She looked down at the little girl playing peekaboo behind her leg.

“Seriously, though, if you’re looking to get your hair done, I could totally hook you up. First haircuts are free. And I have a variety of colors. Not just pink.” I winked at the little princess. She totally looked like a princess in all that pink.

“Really? Okay. Yeah, that would be great.”

“Awesome! Let me just…” I looked around me, then, spotting the menus up at the counter, I excused myself and slipped up front, snagged a pen and scribbled down my info. “Here. That’s my cell. Just call or text me, and I’ll get you in.” I handed her the menu.

“Thanks. I’m actually really looking forward to this.”

“Me too! I’m Shay, by the way. Guess I should mention that.”

She giggled. “That’s okay. I’m Valerie. And these are my girls, Caroline”—she touched the princess on the head, then bounced the child on her hip—“and Fiona.”

I waved at Caroline, then put my attention on Fiona, who looked close in age to her sister.

“Hi, pretty girl. Do you like pink too?” I asked.

Fiona nodded slowly, then buried her face in her mother’s neck.

“She’s my shy one,” Valerie explained.

“Shay! Order to go!” the man at the counter called out.

“That’s me,” I said. “So, yeah, just hit me up, and I’ll totally make all your hair fall out.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Kidding! Kidding.”

I waited for her to laugh before I moved away, waving back at them, then I stepped up to the counter and informed the man who wasn’t Frank—I’d checked—how much I loved Frank’s Pizza as I paid for the two pies.

Not only was their crust game on point, but they served patrons with amazing taste in picking a stylist.

Next stop was Duck Donuts.

The boys went inside with me this time so they could pick out their selections. After some debate, we settled on a variety of glazes, toppings, and drizzles to make up our dozen.

I had no idea what Sean would like, so I wanted to cover my bases.

Then Dominic directed me to Sean’s house.

I knew the place needed a lot of work and, according to Dominic, it was small, but I could immediately see it had potential. It was on a nice chunk of land, it was decent sized—not big, but I wouldn’t say small; average was more like it. It had a cute little wraparound porch and landscape that was overgrown now, but had a good foundation you could build on if you took the time, thanks to the rose bushes and scalloped brick work. Plus, it was close enough to the beach you could make an easy walk out of it, which was huge.

Hold the phone. This was practically oceanfront.

“Nice. I like it,” I commented after pulling up along the front of the house and parking near the mailbox. “E, can you grab the sodas, buddy?”

“Yep!” Eli was almost as excited as I was to be delivering this surprise. He really liked Sean.

Dominic had the donuts, so I grabbed the two pizza boxes off the back seat and shut the door with my hip.

“It’s cool, Eli. Wait ’til you see out back. He’s got a tire swing up,” Dominic said, he and Eli walking ahead of me.

Huh. Why would a single guy need a tire swing? Maybe it had been left by the previous owner.

Both Sean’s bike and his truck were in the driveway—a good sign he was home. As I got a close look at his truck for the first time, I saw a half-peeled-away smiley face sticker on the rusty bumper and realized I had seen his truck before.

“Holeey shit,” I breathed, stopping in the grass. He’d paid for my tacos that day. Sean was the guy. The good deed, doing something for nothing, guy.

And he hadn’t said a word to me about it.

I felt my mouth curl up in the corner. He just couldn’t stop surprising me, could he?

I was beginning to suspect Sean was the most unexpected man in the history of unexpected men. He never wanted anything in return for his actions. He never assumed or anticipated acknowledgment.

He was simply…good.

He was a good man.

“Shay, you coming?” Dominic called out.

I turned away from the truck and saw the boys waiting for me on the porch.

“Yep! Just admiring,” I explained, which wasn’t a lie. I was admiring, I just wasn’t admiring a vehicle. I was admiring the man who owned it.

Stepping up onto the porch, I balanced the pizza boxes on my forearm so I could knock on the door. I could hear drilling, which stopped the second time I knocked after my first went unnoticed. Then a few seconds later, the door swung open.

Sean stood there wearing his faded jeans and nothing else.

I’m going to repeat that for emphasis—Sean stood there wearing his faded jeans and nothing else.

His hair was tied back. He was barefoot. His chest was on display. His hip bones were jutting out nicely. He had fuzz running from his navel to below, and his skin had a light sheen of sweat to it, which was basically the equivalent to icing on a cupcake—the finishing touch that really set off the whole package.

These factors, plus others, considering how low his jeans were hanging, had me scrambling to hold those pizza boxes with both hands, for fear I might drop them.

I had never seen Sean without a shirt on before. I figured he had ink on other parts of his body, not just his arms, and he did. His chest was covered in tattoos, as were his shoulders and his ribs, colorful designs that looked to be random, but I was betting they weren’t. His abdominals were bare, which, even though I had a major thing for body ink, I was grateful for, considering what his abdominals looked like.

Hell, what all of him looked like.

Sean had a body like an Olympian. Like one of those track runners who still had the sculpted upper torso. He wasn’t bulky, but the muscles he did have were so finely cut with perfection, you’d think it was God himself who touched Sean after uttering the phrase Let there be light, plus gorgeous male physiques.

He was solid. Nothing but taut skin and power underneath.

My eyes lingered on his upper arms, the muscles there, and the ink decorating him. I squinted to study it.

Were those stick figure people?

“S-Surprise!” Eli yelled from behind me.

Startled, I snapped my gaze off Sean’s body and looked up. “Hey! Uh, yeah, surprise! Hope you didn’t eat yet.”

Sean looked at the boxes in my hand. “Frank’s,” he muttered, smiling a little. “They got good crust.”

I sighed. God, he was just perfect.

“And Duck Donuts,” I pointed out. “Nobody beats Duck.”

“I got the s-soda!” Eli said, hoisting the twelve-pack of Coke up to his shoulder.

“Did you eat yet?”

Sean looked from Eli to me after I spoke, a solemn look on his face, and shook his head.

“Great.” I smiled, then I stared at him when he didn’t move or show hospitality, and giggled. “Uh, are you going to let us in?”

As if he needed the prompt, Sean stepped back then, no hesitation, and held the door open as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I like your house,” I told him, stepping in. “It’s…you have no furniture.”

I glanced around the empty living room.

There were rags on the floor and a lamp in the corner, plus a few empty soda cans, but other than that, nothing.

“You don’t have any furniture?” I asked instead of assuming, turning to look up at Sean.

Maybe he was keeping it in storage until he was finished fixing up the place?

“Got a bed,” he uttered, pushing the door shut after the boys stepped inside. “Plus a trunk to keep my clothes in.”

“Just a bed and a trunk? You don’t have anything else?”

How can he not have furniture? That’s crazy.

“Haven’t found anything I liked yet,” he replied, but something in his voice told me that wasn’t true. And when his eyes drifted and I watched him glance around the room, looking both frustrated and disappointed with the house he called a home, I knew he wasn’t being picky about furniture.

I decided to change the subject before the mood ruined this surprise.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving,” I said, looking at my brothers, who were both nodding in agreement.

We ate in the middle of the room, pizza first, my brothers each devouring three slices and Sean putting away an easy four. I ate two slices of the half ham and pineapple, the other half plain cheese for Eli, then slid the box of donuts in front of me and threw open the lid.

My brothers both nabbed a donut, Dominic’s choice being peanut butter glaze with chocolate drizzle, and Eli choosing chocolate on chocolate. I settled on the maple bacon glaze, then gestured at the box, asking Sean, “You want one?”

He shook his head and pulled another slice of green pepper and onion out of the box.

“Wow,” I commented. Five slices was impressive.

“Been workin’ for hours,” he explained, chewing up his bite. “I was about to make a sandwich when you showed up.”

“You eat a lot of sandwiches, man,” Dominic said.

I looked to Sean, not knowing this about him.

He shrugged. “Sandwiches are cheap. I like cheap.”

“I like pizza,” Eli replied, chocolate drizzle coating his lips. “And d-donuts.”

“Me too,” I agreed.

“Same,” Dominic added.

Sean folded his pizza in half and took another bite.

He had put on a shirt before we ate, which sucked, in my opinion, but his feet were still bare, and I could not even begin to explain why that was sexy. It just was.

After Dominic and Eli ate their donuts, they asked Sean if they could go out back, leaving the two of us alone.

As the door closed, I sucked glaze off my fingertips and collapsed onto my back, holding my lower stomach. “I have a pizza baby,” I said. “He’s going to be beautiful. I just know it.”

Sean side-eyed me, smirked, then took another bite.

He smirked at me a lot. He smiled at me a little. I liked both.

“Want to play a game?” I asked.

“Nope.”

That cracked me up. “You don’t even know which game I’m going to suggest,” I said, laughing.

“Doesn’t matter. I wanna eat.”

“You can eat and play it. It’s a talking game.”

He looked over at me, swallowed his bite, and waited.

“We just take turns telling something about ourselves.”

“Hell, no.”

“What? Come on.”

“Nope.” He bit into the pizza, reaching crust.

I could’ve taken his answer and left well enough alone, but…no. I really didn’t want to do that. Not at all. I wanted to know him. I wanted to know more.

Tori, Syd, and Kali all liked to joke about how Sean looked like he’d been in and out of prison. He definitely had that hard, unapproachable, don’t-ask-questions look about him, and if it was true, I needed him to know it wouldn’t matter. Not to me. Not when I knew deep down the kind of person he was. So, instead of moving on and changing subjects, I didn’t.

I had the ammo. And I was using it.

“You paid for my tacos,” I said, pushing up to my hip.

Sean quit chewing and looked over at me.

“You were a stranger who paid for my food,” I continued. “Which was a good thing. Then you helped me with my brothers when I didn’t even ask for it, which was another good thing. So, it doesn’t matter what you tell me, Sean, because I already know the kind of person you are. What I don’t know are facts, aside from you being a cook who’s fixing up his house, who drives a kick-ass looking Harley, who works hard doing his job and is great at it—I’ve tried your food—and who works hard at everything, I’m guessing, considering the appetite you’ve worked up. I want to know facts. I want to know more.”

“You don’t know shit,” he mumbled.

“Exactly. That’s why I want you play this game.”

He shook his head and tossed the crust into the box. “You gotta go. I got work to do,” he said, getting to his feet.

I got to my feet then too, stood in front of him, and tipped my chin up. “No,” I snapped.

“No?”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me more. You’re my friend. Friends know things about each other.”

“I ain’t your friend.”

Hearing that, I flinched.

Okay, that hurt.

Then I pulled in a breath through my nose, decided he was only saying that to get me to leave, which wasn’t going to work, and repeated, “You are my friend. And you don’t get to back out of this now. I won’t let you. Hell, you started it.”

His eyes got hard. “I started what?”

“You came to me.” I stabbed at my chest. “You saw me crying and came to me. You offered your help. You bought my fucking tacos. So you started it. We’re friends now. And you don’t get to decide otherwise. It’s done.”

I was certain, if we had spectators, they would find this standoff amusing, considering the size difference between Sean and me.

I, however, wasn’t finding any of this amusing. Neither was he.

Sean looked all over my face. He was breathing loud and heavy, his chest was rising with slow, thick breaths. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

“I’m a hair stylist,” I answered, because it was true and, well, if he needed examples how this was supposed to play out, I’d give him some. “Who also waitresses to cover bills while she starts her own business,” I continued. “I’m twenty-three. I love Taco Bell and would totally have them cater my wedding. I also love Frank’s Pizza because of their crust, and Duck Donuts because they’re just fucking delicious all around. I have one tattoo. I’ve never smoked a day in my life. I love being on the back of a bike and miss it terribly. I’m scared about a lot of things, but the big ones being I’ll lose my dad and I’ll fail at my business. I’m small, but I’m loud. I don’t like being told what to do, unless I also want to do those things. I’m bull-headed. I love singing in my car. The beach makes me happy. And I’m good at judging a person’s character. I’ve judged yours. I like it. Now, who are you?”

Sean stared at me, nostrils flaring.

“Well?”

“You’ve judged my character?” he asked.

I nodded firmly.

“You like it?”

“Yep.”

He bent closer, putting his face an inch away from mine, and grated, “That’s why you don’t know shit. You wanna know about me? You want facts? I’ve been to prison. Not jail. Fuckin’ prison. Been to jail too. A lot. Got busted on assault, breaking and entering, trespassing, theft. Everything I had growing up, I stole from other people. I stole food. I stole clothes. I stole shit I wanted and wouldn’t ever fuckin’ get unless I did steal it. Stole cars. Found out I could get money for certain cars, and then stole a lot of fuckin’ cars to get that money. I’ve beaten the shit outta people for being better than me, for havin’ what I don’t, as payback, and for no fuckin’ reason. How you like that character now? Huh? I’m a twenty-nine-year-old loser. Those enough facts for you? No? How ’bout this—I got kids. Two girls. Four and five years old. Little. Fuckin’ impressionable. The last time they saw me, I was getting hauled off to jail, right in front of them. I can still hear them screamin’ for me ’cause they were scared, and I was the reason for it. Me. I’m a fuckup. Nothin’ to nobody. That’s who I am.”

My heart was racing so fast, I could feel its pace throughout my entire body.

“That’s not true,” I whispered.

“No? Why? You think buying you six-dollar tacos and driving your brothers around makes me what, a fuckin’ good Samaritan? You like the person I am?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t,” he growled.

My eyes jumped between his.

There was so much going on inside my head. Too much. The first thing being holy shit, Sean has kids. He’s a father. A father who’d done some bad stuff in his life, yes, but…

“Going off someone’s actions isn’t the best judge of character sometimes,” I told him, verbalizing my next thought.

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Sometimes people do things because they have to, or for other reasons that are justifiable. If we were to list things we’ve done in the past and judge each other based solely on those things, you’d think badly of me.”

He leaned back, brought his arms across his chest and cocked his head. “Like what?”

“Well,”—I licked my lips, thinking fast since I wasn’t at all prepared for this part of the presentation—“I’ve smoked weed,” I blurted out.

He stared at me. “Said you never smoked a day in your life.”

“I meant cigarettes. I’ve gotten high.”

“Ooh,” he mocked.

I grabbed my hips. “It’s still illegal. And I’ve stolen things. I stole a belt one time from Sears. Got caught and had to give it back, which was totally embarrassing since my friends were with me. I’ve also busted into a car before.”

His eyebrow raised.

“See? You’re judging me right now. You don’t know why I did it,” I said, driving home my point. “I’m assuming you stole food because you were hungry?”

Sean’s mouth got tight.

“Mm. That’s a terrible reason to steal. Starving isn’t life or death or anything.”

He breathed deep and shook his head, mumbling, “This is fuckin’ bullshit. You’re judging me ’cause of the shit I did for you. How’s that any different?”

“Good deeds hold more weight, especially when they aren’t motivated or asked of a person. They show true character. The person you are deep down. What life can’t touch, no matter how bad it can be sometimes.” I watched his eyes slowly return to mine. “You saw me crying, Sean, and you could’ve just walked inside and left me, but you didn’t. That’s not nothing to nobody. Not even close.”

His chest rose slowly, and his lips parted.

“I don’t think any different of you.”

“You should.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

Sean clenched his jaw and looked away. I knew he was getting frustrated with me, and I didn’t want that frustration to turn into anger. So I changed topics while still holding firm to my ground.

“Now, as your friend, I’m going to request a quick tour before I gather up my brothers and leave, since I did believe you when you said you had work to do. But I’m getting that fucking tour. Friends get tours.” I smiled up at him after I spoke, then I turned and took three steps in the direction of the hallway, leading to what I assumed were bedrooms, before turning back. “Coming?” I asked.

Sean slowly turned his head, met my eyes, looked distantly at the floor for a brief moment, and then rubbed at his mouth while uttering a curse before moving toward me.

“Why’d you break into a car?” he asked.

“There was a puppy inside, and the asshole owner didn’t even crack a window. It was nearly a hundred degrees out,” I told him. “That puppy could’ve died.”

Sean stopped in front of me. “You risked goin’ to jail to save a dog?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Yep. And I’d do it again too,” I replied, smiling up at him.

His eyes lowered to my mouth.

I smiled bigger.

“Now, I’d like that tour please,” I requested, gesturing toward the hallway.

Sean lifted his gaze to mine, breathed deep, and then moved around me.

I got my tour.

My parents came home on Sunday.

After exchanging hugs and getting filled in on how Pop was doing, plus hearing stories of Nana and the little packrat she had apparently become, I fessed up to the mistakes I’d made before Sean stepped in to help me out.

Dad didn’t hide his disappointment—I should’ve told them I was having trouble immediately when it started happening. Mom didn’t seem disappointed at all—she knew what was being asked of me and expected some difficulty on my end.

They both, however, seemed in agreement on Sean. Especially when Dominic and Eli got to talking about him.

“What kind of bike?” Dad asked after hearing about the rides the boys had taken.

“A Harley. Black and chrome,” Dominic answered.

Dad nodded appreciatively. I could tell he respected Sean not only for what he did, but also for his taste in motorcycles.

My parents also noticed the change in Dominic, and then they really appreciated Sean, Mom especially.

Using my stationery, she scribbled out a thank-you note and left it to me to pass along.

I couldn’t wait to see Sean’s reaction to that. He always looked so captivated by those little cards.

My parents stayed for lunch, then I walked with them outside to say my goodbyes.

“So?” Mom whispered, stopping at the front of their car while Dad and the boys filed in. “Is he like, a friend friend?”

“Mom,” I groaned. God. No way was I talking about this with her.

She kissed my cheek. “Well, we would love to meet him sometime. Maybe we’ll all go out to dinner one night. How about that?”

I wasn’t sure how receptive Sean would be to that idea, or any idea involving my parents. The man wasn’t exactly pushing for a connection. But I gave my mom two enthusiastic thumbs up as I backed away.

Smiling, she piled into the car with the rest of the family and they pulled off, waving out the windows.

Now, it was Sunday afternoon, and I was anticipating the arrival of my next client.

Valerie had messaged me yesterday, the sweet woman from Frank’s Pizza with the two adorable daughters. She was taking me up on my offer on non-pink hair, and wasn’t wasting any time doing it either. She jumped right on my opening today when I gave it to her.

I was really looking forward to this appointment. She seemed cool, and really nice.

“Hey!” I greeted her, propping the door open and gesturing for her to come inside. “Oh, no kiddies today?”

She blew out an exhausted breath. “No, thank God. My sister offered to keep them. Otherwise, yikes. They would get into everything. Caroline would find your pink hair color and paint herself from head to toe.”

I laughed as I shut the door. “She was so cute in all that pink.”

“Always. No other color.”

I didn’t see any harm in that.

“Well, are we ready to get fabulous?” I asked her. “Because I’m ready.”

Valerie unzipped her hoodie and shrugged it off, handing it to me when I held out my hand. “Yep! Let’s do it.”

I showed her to the room.

After getting her gowned up and situated with a cold beverage, I stood behind Valerie and met her eyes in the mirror.

“So, what are we thinking?” I asked, running my fingers through her long hair. It was soft and thick. “You said highlights on the phone. Do you only want highlights? Would you want some contrast in there? A little dark to break it up? And what about your root?”

We breezed through the consultation. Valerie knew what she wanted, for the most part, and loved the suggestions I made in terms of keeping with a more natural look. After mixing up her color, I sectioned off her hair and got to work.

Now, I have always said that if a woman gets her hair done professionally, she’s paying for not one but two services: hair styling, of course, and therapy.

Women like to talk. Some men do too, especially ones in this industry. And when you’re working on someone’s appearance for several hours, that’s a lot of time to gab. Some clients vent. Some ask advice. Some simply swap personal facts with their stylist.

Valerie didn’t waste any time. She shared how long she’d lived in Dogwood Beach—six years—and that she was a fourth-grade teacher who absolutely loved her job, not only because she’d wanted to be a teacher her entire life, but also because it gave her summers off with her girls.

Her girls were her life. Once she got on that topic, she stayed on it.

“So, yeah, my kids are with my sister,” she said, pausing to take a drink of her sweet tea. “She’s my only sitter. I’m lucky to have her. It’s tough sometimes, getting a moment to myself, you know?”

Nodding, I painted another section of her hair, foiled it off, and picked up another. “Mm mm. Time to yourself is so important, though.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What about their dad? Is he not around?”

She made a sour face in the mirror. “Don’t get me started.”

I chuckled. “Uh oh.”

“You don’t even want to know the half of it. My ex…I wasted so much time on him. It was my own fault, though. I knew exactly who he was. I tried to tell myself he could change. Whatever. I just feel bad for my girls. You know, their last memory of their dad is watching him get arrested?”

I stilled my brush.

“Yeah.” Catching my eyes, she nodded. “Nice, right? He’s not winning Father of the Year, that’s for sure. He’s out now and wants to see the girls. He must think I’m a fucking idiot. No way.”

I finished painting that section of hair and foiled it off, then quickly moved on to the next.

What…were…the odds here? It had to be Sean, right? But do I ask? I don’t know. And if it is, do I say I know him?

Shit! Why did people think this was a therapy session? It wasn’t. We should be talking hair and hair only.

Valerie took another drink of her tea, watching me work in the mirror.

I had to ask. I had to know.

“So, what does he do now that he’s not in jail?”

It was a terrible lead-in, but I couldn’t just say, Hey, what’s his name? That would be too obvious.

“He’s a cook. He’s always been a cook, but he’s never really held a job down. Not really the professional, hardworking type, if you know what I mean. He’s a loser.”

I bit my tongue.

I really didn’t want to hate Valerie, since I was liking her so much and really wanted to keep her as a client, so I kept telling myself she had reason to feel the way she did, and I wouldn’t judge her based on that.

“Anyway, he’s saying he’s kept the same job since he got out. I just don’t know if I believe him. Sean’s a liar.”

Bingo.

“Sean.” I met her eyes and stuck my hand on my hip. “You don’t mean Sean Molina, do you?” I asked nonchalantly.

Or, at least, attempted to ask nonchalantly.

Her eyes flickered wider. “Y-Yes. Do you know him?”

“I work with him.”

“You…what? What do you mean?”

“I’m a waitress at Whitecaps. That’s where he works. I work there too.”

“Get out of here!”

I chuckled. “Totally serious. Small world, right?”

“Wow, that’s crazy.”

I dipped my brush in the color and parted another section. “He’s, uh, been there for over a year,” I shared, glancing at the mirror.

She lifted her gaze. “He has?”

I nodded. “He’s really good too. His food kicks ass.”

“Sean’s always been a good cook. That doesn’t surprise me,” she said, biting her lip. “That’s…he’s really been there for over a year? Are you sure?”

“He started after I started. I’m sure.”

She brought her glass to her mouth, mumbling a “huh” before taking another sip.

Valerie wasn’t expecting Sean to be telling the truth, or maybe she just had a hard time believing it herself. I had no idea what all Sean had done to lose that trust from her, assuming it was more than the arrest I was aware of, even though that was probably plenty enough, and even though I wanted to pry more than I wanted her walking out of here with kickass hair, I didn’t feel right about doing this behind Sean’s back, which was exactly how it felt.

But if Valerie were to offer up information, or inquire about stuff I knew about, I supposed that was different.

“How does he seem?” she asked.

“Good. Focused. He was running the kitchen by himself up until very recently, and he didn’t have a problem. He just bought a house.”

Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her that. What if Sean didn’t want her knowing?

Focus on hair, Shay!

“Sean owning a house,” she mumbled, shaking her head a little. “The only thing he ever owned was a trailer. We lived in an apartment with the girls. As soon as we met and got serious, Sean went out and found a place. He refused to stay in that trailer with me. He wouldn’t even let me in it. I think he was embarrassed. It was pretty dumpy. He kept it, though. Stored it somewhere, I guess. Good thing too, since he didn’t have anywhere to go after he got out. I’d left him.”

I listened and focused on my task.

“It’s like, you give people so many chances and they just keep blowing it. You have to eventually say, enough is enough, you know? I didn’t blame Sean at first. When he’d get into trouble or whatever, it’s like, I knew it was all because of his terrible home life. He didn’t know any different. But then, I’d think, why am I justifying this? It didn’t matter why he was doing the things he was doing, he shouldn’t have been doing them. Especially when kids are involved. I mean, my God. I was so unbelievably angry with him when I found out what he did. Even after I knew he was stealing that car to get the money to pay for the hospital bill, I’d had it, you know? The fact that he had the girls with him and he didn’t think. He didn’t stop and worry what that would do to them? No. There was no justifying that. My babies were terrified. And when I had to pick them up from the police station, I knew I was done. No more chances.”

Valerie paused to take a drink, then licked the sweet tea off her lips and shook her head.

“And now you’re telling me he’s holding down a job and wasn’t lying to me about the house, and I got to be the bad guy and say no.” She sighed, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “I’m going to need to walk out of her with fabulous hair today. My mood is kind of crappy now.”

“That I got you covered on,” I replied, offering her a smile.

Valerie didn’t say any more about Sean after that, but I could tell her mind was heavy and keeping her thoughts hostage. We kept the conversation light throughout the rest of the appointment.

Honestly, I was grateful she was finished sharing for the day. I had a lot to process and work out inside my own head. There were so many questions I wanted answers to, things I was still unclear about.

Who was Sean Molina? Where did he come from? What all had he done, and why? And who was so terrible to him growing up?

I promised Valerie hair no short of fabulous, and I delivered. She was ecstatic with me and the finished product and declared Hair by Shay the hottest spot in Dogwood, swearing she’d refer me to all her friends.

I only had one worry—

I knew I couldn’t keep this from Sean.