“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

I mixed up the pink toner while smiling back at Valerie, who was nervously tapping the arms of my sleek salon chair.

It had been two weeks since I last saw her, and per Caroline’s request, and apparently after going wild on Pinterest and looking up kickass hairstyles, Valerie was back to get some pink in her hair.

I couldn’t believe it myself until she showed up.

“This is exciting!” I said. Not only for her, but for me, as well.

Now I had the opportunity to tell more of the good stuff about Sean earlier than I was anticipating.

After our paint night where he revealed his god-awful upbringing, plus a couple more nights I’d gone over to help out where he shared a little bit more, I had become fully, whole-heart committed to talking Sean up in hopes Valerie would let him see his girls.

I was ready with a plan before she arrived.

I’d point out all his good qualities, reassure her of the things I knew to be true, and just simply state my opinion on the man. I was allowed to have an opinion.

I knew one could argue this wasn’t any of my business, and I needed to stay out of it. But what kind of person would I be if I kept quiet and passed on an opportunity to help my friend? Not a person I would want to be friends with, that was for damn sure.

I just needed Valerie to bring him up. Or…

I just needed to say the right thing to encourage her to bring him up.

“So, what’s new?” I asked as I sectioned off her hair, leaving down the pieces underneath she wanted to color pink.

“Not much, really. My life is kind of boring.”

“Has Sean reached out to you any more?”

Or, another option, I could lose my patience in this matter and simply bring him up myself. Great.

I wasn’t being obvious at all.

She bit down on an ice cube and swirled her drink. “Yeah, he called last week, telling me how sorry he is again and how he’s trying to do right by the girls this time. It’s the same ol’ speech, basically. All his messages are the same.”

“You don’t talk to him?”

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

I nodded with my lips pressed so tightly together, they began to sting.

Shit. I was in way over my head with this. What was I supposed to say? Should I tell her how much I liked talking to him? What the hell good would that do?

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” she asked, with honest concern in her voice.

Holding her hair against a piece of foil, I started applying the color. “What do you mean?”

“By not letting him see the girls…They ask about him, and I just—”

“Aw, they do?” I met her eyes in the mirror, and she nodded, causing my heart to ache.

“They think he’s on vacation.” Valerie rolled her eyes. “A vacation lasting over a year, can you imagine? I’d kill for that.”

I giggled.

“I think I’m doing the right thing,” she said solemnly. “But then, I think I’m doing the wrong thing, and I worry I’m going to regret it as they get older. I worry about it all the time. It would be easier if the court was involved.”

My stomach tightened.

“Uh, yeah, but then that’s so official,” I rebutted, panic filling me as I thought about Sean being ordered to stay away from his girls, and what that would do to him. “And would you want that? What if you changed your mind?”

“I know,” she agreed. “That’s why I haven’t done it.”

>Tension eased from my shoulders.

“What if the girls end up hating me for this, Shay? What if they get older and find out Sean never went on vacation and hate me for keeping them apart?”

Shaking my head, I dropped the brush into the bowl I was dipping out of and closed off the foil around her hair. “They won’t hate you,” I told her, taking the clips out now that I was finished, then gripping her shoulders and looking into the mirror. “And whatever you decide to do, Sean will understand. This is your call, Valerie. He knows that.”

She snorted. “You say that like you know him.”

“I do know him. He’s my friend.”

She frowned.

Shit. Too obvious. Too obvious. Now everything I say, she’ll think I’m doing for him.

“I mean, we work together, remember? He’s my work friend,” I covered, which wasn’t a lie. Not at all. We were friends who met at work.

That was exactly what we were.

“Oh, that’s right.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I keep forgetting that. That is so crazy to me.”

I smiled.

Then, as his work friend, I gave in to the urge I was battling something fierce and said what needed to be said.

“He’s a really decent guy. More than decent,” I told her. “He’s helped me out of a few jams, and he seems to really have his shit together. He’s done amazing work on that house. It looks great.”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, her gaze falling away.

“It’s your choice. They are your girls, and you will protect them and make the right decision. I know you will.”

Valerie reached up and placed her hand on top of one of mine. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” I winked at her. “Now, it’s dryer time. And then, hellllo, Ms. Pink.”

Valerie giggled, then followed me over to the dryer so she could cook.

After washing and a quick blow dry, followed by some curls, because I never let any woman leave here without a little something fancy, I spun Valerie in the chair and let her check out her new look.

“Oh, my God. I actually love it!” she squealed, fingering the ends of her hair to see the pop of color underneath.

“See? You doubt me. I told you it would look awesome.”

Valerie sprung from her chair and wrapped her arms around me. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning back to smile. “For this, and the listening, and just…thank you.”

“Anytime,” I said, meaning that.

I really, really liked her.

After she paid and made sure her follow-up appointment with me was booked, I walked Valerie to the door, stepping out and waving as she climbed the stairs.

“See ya!” I called out.

“Later, Shay!”

The door across the hall opened as I was turning to head back inside, and Monica (6B) stepped out, directing her son, Thomas, who was carrying a nightstand.

“Hey, Shay!” she said, seeing me, then looking to her son, she said, “Just go stick it at the curb. It’s broken.”

Thomas carried the small table up the stairs.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Girl, tons. First of all, Victor loved my hair!”

I high-fived her. Sweet!

“Of course he did,” I said. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“What else is happening?”

“Well, he got a transfer.”

“No way! So, you guys are moving?”

Bummer. There goes that client.

“Yeah, but, girl, this is a good move. Guess where they’re sending him?”

I shrugged.

“Hawaii!” she shrieked.

“What? Oh, my God, that’s awesome!”

“I know! We’re so excited,” she said, pressing her back against the door to hold it open when Thomas went back inside. “The kids especially. You know, it’s just been hard with their dad being gone so much.”

“I can imagine. When are you guys leaving?”

“Victor doesn’t need to check in until the end of the month, but we’re taking the kids on a nice, long vacation before we go. Disney.”

“Disney World!” the kids screamed from inside.

I laughed.

“They’re a little excited,” Monica chuckled. “We’re planning on leaving right from Disney. It would be a waste to come back here. We’re selling all our furniture now, and what we don’t sell, I’m just sticking out by the curb.”

“Wait, what?” I stepped closer. “You’re not taking your furniture with you?”

Her eyes doubled in size. “Do you have any idea how much it would cost us to ship our furniture to Hawaii, Shay? Like, I don’t know, but I’m guessing a lot. No way. We’ll just start fresh there. It’s on-base housing, so that’s cheap. And Victor is getting a good chunk of money for transferring. We’ll be fine. Most of the stuff we have are hand-me-downs anyway. I’m excited to buy all new stuff.”

Thomas stepped out carrying the matching nightstand.

I blocked him.

“Hey,” he grumbled.

“How much are you selling everything for?” I asked Monica, keeping my arm around the table so Thomas couldn’t move.

“Why? You interested?” She looked perplexed. “Isn’t your place fully furnished?”

“Yes, but I have a friend who is needing a lot of stuff. Like basically, everything.”

“Really? Well.” She shrugged. “For you, Shay, nothing. Just take it.”

“Oh, my God, I can’t do that!” I gaped. “I at least need to give you something.”

“You gave me fantastic hair.”

“Which you paid for.”

“After a discount…”

I cocked my head.

She cocked hers. “Fine. What do you want to pay me?”

I smiled, patted Thomas on the head after dropping my arm away, stepped closer, and keenly suggested, “How about six dollars and fifty-seven cents?”

Monica cracked up. “Well, that’s a specific amount!”

I nodded, still holding my smile and ready to throw more money on top of my offer if she came to her senses.

But it wasn’t needed.

Monica stuck out her hand. “Deal!”

After I paid Monica for her entire apartment full of furniture (six fifty-seven, what a steal!), we discussed when she wanted the furniture out. Anytime this week would be perfect, the sooner the better.

And what was sooner than right now?

Stepping back inside my apartment and shutting the door with my hip, I sent out a group text to Syd and Tori.

Hey! If I can get a hold of a moving truck, can I borrow your man muscle tonight to deliver some furniture? Pretty please? ;)

The first response came from Tori: Where are you delivering furniture to?

Stitch. I just bought him a shit ton of it for under seven bucks. BOOM!

Syd responded next: You bought Stitch furniture? Why?

Because he doesn’t have any. Can I borrow your man muscle or not? I gotta make a call.

Tori: Holy shit. You’re in love with him.

Syd: I was just typing that. Twins!

Oh, my God.

He’s my FRIEND.

Tori: So are we. Where’s our furniture?

Syd: Good one.  Also, I’d like to be filled in on the hows and whys of this new friendship. I feel like we have a lot to discuss.

Tori: Sounds like we need a girls’ night.

Syd: I second that.

I had zero problem with planning a girls’ night, so I shared that, but kept on topic.

Third it. Now FOCUS. Man muscle? Yes? No?

Syd: Trouble is in. Just say when and where.

Trouble was her fiancé, Brian. She always called him that.

Awesome. Thank you, Syd!

Tori: I’m closing tonight, but Jamie can help. Just don’t use up all his muscle. I’ll want some of it later.

Yes!

Thank you! Okay, let me call around and I’ll let you both know. xoxo

After Googling Budget Rental, calling them, and finding out they were booked until next week, I got the number to Penske and dialed them up. That’s where I hit the mother lode. They had a truck big enough for a fully furnished, two-bedroom apartment available immediately.

Smiling from ear to ear, I reserved the truck and sent out the text to Tori and Syd.

Then I helped Monica with some packing.

Stomach fluttering and breaths coming quick, I knocked on Sean’s door while the boys and Syd waited by the truck.

It was just past six, and the sun was beginning to set low behind the house. The sky glowed orange and dark mustard yellow.

We made it just in time to take care of this with some light out.

The door swung open and Sean stood there, suspicion pinching his brow. To be expected: I hadn’t alerted him of my amazing stroke of luck.

“Hey.” I smiled at him and took his hand, tugging it gently. “Come here.”

“What?” he asked, stepping out onto the porch.

I pointed at the truck and yelled, “Do it!”

Jamie, Tori’s boyfriend, flipped the lock on the door and pushed it up, revealing the truckload of home goods.

">“Surprise!” I yelled, looking back at Sean. “My neighbor is moving to Hawaii and isn’t taking her furniture with her, so it’s yours! All of it.”

Sean cut his eyes to me. “What?”

“Now you have furniture. My neighbor had a little girl, so there’s a pretty sweet pink dresser in there with ladybug designs along the edges. Plus, two twin beds. A couch. A kitchen table—”

“What the fuck are you doing?” he grated, jerking out of my hold. “You got me furniture? Are you fuckin’ with me?”

His sharp tone stepped me back.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Sean stared at me, his chest shuddering, his eyes wider than I’d ever seen. He looked terrified.

">Then he turned his attention to the truck, and hollered, “Take it back!”

I gaped at him. “What? Why?” I questioned. I heard murmuring at my back, then the sound of the heavy door sliding. “Wait! Just wait a second!” I yelled, pausing Jamie and Brian, who were both closing it up. I turned back to Sean. “Why can’t you take it?”

“What the fuck, Shayla?” he half growled, half whispered.

I shook my head, confused.

“You think I can’t do this myself? Is that it?” His voice quaked.

“What? No!”

“Then why? I didn’t ask you for shit! I don’t ask you for nothin’. I don’t deserve…” He cursed and took a step closer to the edge, bellowing, “Take that fuckin’ shit back now!”

“No!” I hollered, pointing at Jamie, who was yanking the door back down. “Don’t you move! Keep it open!”

Brian started shaking his head, saying something I couldn’t make out at this distance. Syd looked so nervous, I was surprised she wasn’t crawling behind that furniture and hiding. Jamie just looked amused, which was typically how he looked, but he took his hand off the door as instructed.

Good.

Then, knowing they weren’t closing it up, I planted a firm hand on Sean’s chest and pushed him back. “You don’t get to decide whether or not someone does something nice for you, do you understand?” I snapped.

He blinked down at me, still looking terrified. Plus, he was panting now. I could feel his heart pounding against my palm.

“You do not ever get to decide whether someone treats you with kindness, Sean. Not ever,” I told him, holding his stare and speaking with boldness, but also keeping my voice gentled. “You paid six fifty-seven for my tacos. I paid six fifty-seven for your furniture. You did for me. I’m doing for you. But get this, even if you hadn’t done for me, I’d still be doing for you because you’re my friend, because you deserve kindness, because you’re a good person who should be having good put back on them, and because I wanted to do it. Don’t look at this as a favor. Look at it as a gift. And take it.”

Sean rushed out a breath. Then he swallowed thickly.

“Okay?” I whispered.

Hesitating, he waited for me to wrap my other hand around his wrist before he closed his mouth, inhaled shakily, and jerked his chin.

I smiled and gave his wrist a squeeze in comfort.

“Okay, we’re good!” I hollered over my shoulder.

The door slid open, and the boys got to work unloading and hauling stuff in while Syd and I directed them where to put it. Women just knew furniture placement better than men. It was a fact.

Sean stood back at first, just watching everything get carried inside, looking uncomfortable, like he didn’t feel like he belonged in his own house anymore, then, as if finally accepting what was happening, the second he saw that ladybug dresser, he jumped in and grabbed an end.

Once everything was carried off the truck, Sean thanked Jamie and Brian for their help, shaking both their hands, which I think was the first time the three of them had ever conversed.

While this happened, Syd tugged on my elbow and whispered in my ear, “He needs to come to family dinner.”

I smiled at her. I couldn’t have agreed more.

The boys and Syd took off in the truck. I drove separately and got to work on saying my goodbyes.

First, to Mac and Cheese.

“You guys seem to be settled in,” I said, bending down in front of the pretzel barrel. The fish swam about, their mouths opening in search for food. “Be good to him,” I whispered.

I stepped out of the kitchen.

Sean was glancing around his fully furnished living room, hands on his hips, the shake of his head coming every few seconds.

“Am I more than you bargained for yet?” I asked him.

He turned to me and rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes squinted in confusion. “What?”

“Being my friend,” I explained, walking over to him. “I just basically forced a truckload of furniture on you. You already admitted to thinking I’m bossy.” I reached his side and smiled up at him. “Just wondering if you’re regretting helping me yet, now that you see what all you got yourself into.”

Sean looked all over my face. “I don’t regret it,” he answered, which made my heart skip and beat wildly. “But I ain’t used to this.”

“Friends doing stuff for you?”

“That. And friends…”

I frowned.

Sean looked at my mouth, then shook his head. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“You never had any friends? Not even when you were a kid?”

“I would’ve been a shitty friend when I was a kid,” he answered. “I was lookin’ out for me back then. I didn’t give a fuck about anyone else.”

I tried to picture a younger version of the man standing in front of me—Sean as a child. Alone. Never feeling love. Never knowing how to give it.

He was never shown kindness. He was never taught any morals. He wasn’t guided or tended to. He said it before—he took up space.

And still, coming from that, from nothing, Sean had good in him. A lot of it.

I thought that said more about the man he was than anything he could tell me.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t regret me, but I wouldn’t let you back out now even if you tried,” I said, feeling the need to remind him of my bullheadedness, in case he was forgetting about it.

“Can’t say that surprises me. It ain’t like you ever give me a choice in shit.”

I narrowed my eyes at his profile.

He smirked, then slowly looked down at me without moving his head. And because Sean smirking was damn near close to Sean smiling, I smiled back.

Then, side by side, we both got back to admiring all that furniture.

It was Wednesday night, twenty after nine, and I was pampering myself with a rose-infused sheet mask while posting client snapshots on my Instagram and Facebook feed.

To my delight, I was up twenty-some followers on my Facebook page, and over fifty on my Instagram account.

This put me in a fantastic mood.

I had also discovered, when I planted my butt on the coach after applying my mask, that Comcast had put all episodes of Shameless On Demand, free for subscribers to watch at no charge.

My fantastic mood elevated to tremendous status. I fucking loved Shameless.

I was halfway into episode one, season one, and enjoying myself immensely when a knock sounded on my door.

It was late. I wasn’t expecting any visitors; however, I was still getting walk-in hair cut appointments from fellow Pebble Dune residents, so the knock didn’t surprise me.

In fact, I looked forward to these knocks.

Nevertheless, I had plans this evening involving Lip Gallagher and some pampering, so I was prepared to tell whoever it was to come back around tomorrow, or another day that worked for them.

Pressing close to the door, I peered through the peephole and saw Sean standing on the other side of it.

I gasped.

Not even Lip Gallagher showering me in Korean sheet masks would keep me from opening this door right now.

I hadn’t seen Sean in two days. I’d missed him.

As a friend and more.

But Sean never came to visit without the intention to help. And I knew I didn’t need any help…

So why was he here?

“Hey!” I called through the door, reaching for the deadbolt, then, remembering the current state of my face, I yanked my hand back and gulped. “Uh, just a sec!”

Dashing to my one and only bathroom, which was on the other side of the apartment by the kitchen, I glanced at the timer I’d set on the counter.

I still had two minutes left before my mask reached full oxidizing potential.

You have got to be kidding me.

Sean knocked again.

I looked at myself in the mirror and decided timed masks were stupid. They should start oxidizing the moment they touch your skin and reach full potential a second later.

Immediate gratification.

Ripping the thin sheet off my face, I tossed it into the wastebasket next to the sink, patted the essence into my skin, ran a quick brush through my hair to give it some life, pinched my cheeks, and then ran back across the apartment and unlocked the door.

“Hi!” I rushed out, holding the door open for Sean to enter. “This is a surprise. What’s up?”

Sean stopped in the entryway and turned to look at me.

He was wearing dark-wash jeans, his motorcycle boots, and a tight black T-shirt, skipping the thermal, I was assuming, since the weather tonight was on the warmer side.

“Val called,” he shared, rubbing both hands down his face, then reaching around to grip his neck so his elbows pointed straight at me.

My eyes widened to the size of baseballs. “She did?” I asked, pushing the door closed.

Sean nodded.

“What did she say?”

“That I could see my girls.” He looked ready to hit the floor.

“Oh, my God! Sean! That’s great!” I cried, closing the distance between us in two quick steps.

I wrapped my arms around his middle and squeezed him tight, smiling when I felt his arms drop around me.

His hands gently, almost cautiously, formed to my hips.

Holy God, this was nice. I have lived a full life now.

“Why aren’t you jumping up and down? This is good news,” I asked, keeping pressed close.

I didn’t want to move. Ever.

He smelled so good. Sean didn’t wear cologne from what I could tell. And I didn’t think it was soap I was smelling. It was just…him. He smelled like the outdoors. Like the wind when it filled your car as you were driving past a meadow with the windows down. A little sweet, but all man. Dirt and grass and every other scent you’d catch while you were outside working on something.

“I’m fuckin’ scared,” he admitted, which immediately had me leaning away to peer up at him.

God, his honesty sometimes…it was shocking. Sean fought me until he didn’t.

At all.

“They don’t know me anymore,” he elaborated. “It’s been over a fuckin’ year. What if they…they could hate me.”

“They won’t.”

“I’d fuckin’ hate me.”

I shook my head. “Kids don’t think like that. Not that young. I promise.”

“Well…what about the house? It ain’t good enough. I don’t got a playground out back for them yet, and the beds don’t have anything on them. It’s small. It’s too fuckin’ small, and that fuckin’ basement…I still gotta work on that. And some of those walls I patched look like shit…I should’ve done better. I—”

“Sean, hey.” I grabbed his face, forcing him to stop. “Those girls are not going to care about any of that. They just want to spend time with you. It’s about you. Not stuff. Not your house. And quit selling yourself short, will you? You have done an amazing job getting that house ready. It looks great.”

He thought on what I said, nodded his head firmly, once, then I felt his hands slide away from my hips, and he stepped back, forcing us apart.

“You gotta help me,” he pleaded, looking desperate. “I need your help.”

Now, this was a first…“Of course, I’ll help you. What do you need?”

He took the elastic out of his hair and let all those golden strands down.

My hand hit my chest. “Oh, my God, you don’t want me to chop off your hair, do you?” I questioned, feeling slightly nauseated at the idea. “I really don’t want to do that.”

I’d help him another way. There had to be something else.

“Not all of it,” Sean specified. “I just don’t want my girls not recognizing me. It’s gonna be hard enough for them. It’s been so fuckin’ long. I don’t want them scared it ain’t me.”

“How short do you want it?”

He touched just above his shoulder. “’Bout here?” His brows raised. “That’s how it was last time they saw me.”

That was three inches, give or take. It would still be longish, which made me happy. Sean’s hair was just…wow. It just felt wrong to cut it off.

“Okay. I can do that.”

“This too,” he said, rubbing his hand over his short, thick beard. “I want them seein’ me. Not this.”

“Do you want it shaved completely?”

I tried picturing Sean barefaced.

I couldn’t do it.

He shook his head. “I had a goatee before I got locked up, plus a little on my jaw.” He stroked his fingers there. “Just not this full, you know?”

“Got it.” I held my arm out, directing him toward the salon room. “Right this way, sir. Let’s get you ready so those beautiful girls recognize you.”

His eyes gentled, and I thought I saw a faint smile before he walked in front of me. He stopped at the open door.

“You like goin’ by Shay for this?” he asked, pointing at the sign hanging there.

I got beside him. “I don’t know. I’m still deciding. I go back and forth.” Turning my head and tilting it back, I met his gaze. “What do you like?”

“I think you already know that.”

My stomach clenched as I was flooded with the memory of my very first conversation with Sean.

He liked Shayla better. He always did. He never called me Shay.

And because I was on the fence about this decision, not preferring one over the other and possibly waiting for that little shove in the direction I needed to take, I had zero issues changing that sign and all my social media handles immediately.

Hair by Shayla sounded more professional anyway.

Or maybe I just knew I would really like the way it would sound coming out of Sean’s mouth.

“I like Hair by Shayla better too, now that I think about it,” I mumbled.

The corner of Sean’s mouth twitched. It was the subtlest movement, but I saw it.

Wow.

Yeah, I was totally changing that name.

Sean stepped inside the room.

Happy with my decision and what I was about to do, I followed behind wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

I was finally getting the chance to play with Sean’s hair. To say I was excited about it was an understatement.

“Have a seat,” I said, and once he did, I draped the cape across him and fastened it at the neck. “Ready?” I smiled at him in the mirror.

Eyes still soft, he nodded.

I got started.

I wet Sean’s hair down with a spray bottle, then I clipped up half of it, had him tilt so his chin touched his chest, and snipped three inches off the back.

Neither one of us said a word.

It was weird.

I was never quiet doing this, but I just kept picturing Sean’s face when I first opened my door, and hearing that unguarded fear in his voice, and I concentrated unlike I had ever concentrated on anything. This suddenly became the most important haircut of my life, because it was so profoundly important to Sean, and I didn’t want to risk anything distracting me from giving him exactly what he’d asked for.

Lip Gallagher himself could’ve walked into this room with Justin Timberlake riding him like a pony, and I wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing, even if they were throwing sheet masks around like Mardi Gras beads.

Setting my scissors and comb aside, I stood behind Sean and checked symmetry, pulling down the pieces of hair framing his face. I checked a couple more strands. They were even. Then I ran my fingers through the back of his hair and looked in the mirror, smiling at him.

“How’s that?” I asked. “It’ll dry and shorten a little, so it’ll come up to about where you were wanting it.”

Sean nodded. “It’s good.”

“Excellent.” I brushed the cape off, then, removing it, I shook off the hair. “Now, the beard. We gotta do that in the bathroom,” I said.

Sean stood from the chair, bent down, and checked his hair in the mirror. If I didn’t know him, or if it were anyone else, I would’ve said that was for vanity reasons, but I knew it wasn’t. Sean wasn’t looking for him.

The chair I used for shampooing was a thrift store purchase I’d found a few months back. It was that squeaky restaurant plastic, and a hideous shade of brown, but it reclined, stood at the height I needed, and it wasn’t too much for me to lug in and out of my bathroom.

Until I could afford a shampoo bowl setup, this would have to do.

I pulled the chair into the bathroom and got it in place in front of the sink. Then I motioned for Sean to take a seat.

He plopped down and stretched out his legs until the toes of his booted feet touched the wall.

“Okay, straight razor, or my Venus?” I held up Sean’s choices. “Obviously, the Venus would have a fresh blade. But I’m going to warn you, it has a strip of lotion that’ll leave your face smelling pretty.”

Brow tight, Sean’s tipped his head at the straight razor.

“No pretty face for you, huh?” I set the blades down and pressed on his shoulder while I angled the chair back, putting Sean’s head closer to the sink.

Then I folded a hand towel and stuck it under his head for comfort.

After trimming down his beard to get rid of most of the length, then taking clippers to it, I wet down his cheeks, jaw, and chin with the spray bottle from the bedroom, wiped off any water dripping down to his shirt, and pulled my bottle of conditioner out of the shower caddy.

“I think conditioner does a better job than shaving cream,” I explained, squirting a little on my fingertips and then smoothing it over Sean’s jaw.

He stiffened.

“What?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled between his teeth. “That’s you.”

“What’s me?”

“That. What you’re puttin’ on my face. That’s you.”

Confused, I quit applying the conditioner to his beard. “Huh?”

Sean closed his eyes. He was breathing heavily through his nostrils. “I didn’t know what it was—shampoo, shit you put on your skin, or if it was just you, smelling like honey. Now I know.” He opened his eyes and looked at me.

I took his heavy breathing and stiffness as my smell not being a good one.

An ache passed under my skin and sunk deep, burning a hole clear through my heart.

Rejection was one of the worst pains one could ever feel. It stuck with you. Scars healed. Bruises went away.

Rejection was lasting. It was a memory you could conjure up at any time and hurt from, over and over again. It never left you.

“Uh, I can…use something else,” I stammered, my throat suddenly tight and distorting my voice. “I have other stuff—”

Sean’s arm shot out and his hand wrapped around my wrist as I was turning to grab another option out of the shower. He curtly shook his head.

“No?” I questioned softly.

“No.” His voice was urgent.

“You don’t mind it?”

“I do not fuckin’ mind it.”

My breath caught. “Okay,” I rushed out, licking my dry lips. “Okay, um, that’s…I’m glad you don’t mind. That’s nice of you.”

Oh, my God, Sean liked the way I smell.

Or he at least tolerated it enough to wear it on his face.

Either way, ohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.

Be cool, Shay. Be cool.

“It’s actually not just this,” I informed him. “I have the matching shampoo too. Plus, my body wash is crème brûlée, which basically smells like honey. I like the smell. It’s subtle but there, you know? Not too harsh.”

Sean didn’t say anything in return, but he seemed to be taking in the information I was sharing. He kept his eyes on me.

I took that as a good sign.

Once I finished applying the conditioner and wiped my hands clean, I plugged the sink and filled it with water. Then I picked up the razor.

“I’ve never shaved another person before. You might lose a lip,” I said, leaning over and touching the blade to Sean’s skin.

His eyes cut to mine.

“Just kidding,” I whispered.

Sean relaxed, exhaling, then looked to the ceiling.

Fighting a grin, I held his face and carefully dragged the blade down his skin.

I took my time. I was careful, not just around the harsh angle of Sean’s jaw, but everywhere. I remembered his request—how he kept his beard before—and followed it to a T. Like during the haircut, we didn’t converse, which worked for me, considering how close I was to Sean’s mouth with my mouth, and how enticed I’d be to lean in and taste his words if he started speaking them. Feeling his breath on my hand was temptation enough. Besides, I needed full concentration for this. Sean’s face would be the first thing those girls looked at. And he was trusting me to make this less scary for him, when he was terrified they wouldn’t recognize who he was. He worried they’d pull back when they saw him or turn away. He was half convinced they would.

I needed this to be perfect. I wouldn’t give him any less than that. Sean had come to my apartment, asking for my help, and I wouldn’t let him down.

When I had finished up and cleaned off the blade, I took a towel and wiped the excess conditioner off Sean’s face. Then I leaned back and smiled.

“All done. Check it out.”

Sean pushed out of the chair and stood in front of the mirror. He lifted his chin and stroked his face. He looked left and then right, and then he looked straight on.

“I feel like I’m meeting another you,” I said. “The man you were before, I mean. This is what he looked like.”

Sean turned to me. “You don’t wanna know him,” he mumbled.

“No?” I reached up and touched his jaw, which I could see now without hindrance of a full beard.

It was angular, like it was chiseled out of stone. It was a really good jaw.

“I like this,” I told him, referring to his jaw and the rest of his face I’d just shaven. His damp hair was tucked behind his ears. It grazed the tops of his shoulders. “I liked the beard too. But this…I feel like you aren’t hiding from me anymore. This is you.”

His muscle beneath my hand twitched.

“When are you seeing your girls?” I asked.

“Tomorrow. Val’s bringing them over after work.”

“Are you off tomorrow?”

“I switched with J.R. I’m coverin’ the morning.”

“I’m covering the morning too.” I smiled. “Yay.”

I loved it when we worked together.

Sean’s eyes, which had been holding mine, lowered to my mouth. He swallowed, then pulled back so my hand left him, and uttered, “I gotta go.”

Those were not the words I was hoping he’d say, and not just because he was leaving.

A huge part of me wished Sean wanted me with him tomorrow to share this important moment in his life. But he didn’t propose it. I wasn’t even sure it was on his mind. And it hurt—him not wanting me there or not thinking to offer. But it was a selfish desire, and deep down in my heart, where honest feelings budded and flourished, it was more important to me that Sean was getting this chance for himself than having my own part in it.

So, as I left the bathroom, I didn’t allow that disappointment to fester. I thought about what this was going to mean to him instead.

And as I thought about it, feeling good, feeling excited for him, I realized Sean was booking it through my apartment, steps fast and heavy, like he was suddenly in a rush to get out of here.

Did I mess something up?

“Hey!” I lunged forward and grasped his elbow, giving it a tug until Sean stopped retreating and turned back, a step away from the door. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” I asked him.

His face was tense, then he registered my meaning and shook his head sharply, once. “I just gotta go,” he said.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why? Do you have plans? Do you need to go do something?”

He stared at me, and I knew his answer without him speaking it.

Maybe he didn’t know…

“You don’t have to leave, Sean. I’m not asking you to leave. You can stay. We can…I don’t know, watch TV or something. Do you want to do that with me?”

Still, he said nothing. Just kept staring.

I begged, please stay, inside my head. I almost said the words out loud. I was desperate for him to know he could be here. That he could always be here.

Awareness came on abruptly. My eyes began to sting, because I realized that was it. He didn’t think he deserved what I was giving. Sean didn’t think he was good enough for this, for my company. For spending time with me and hearing me tell him things like you can stay, and this is you, I like it. He didn’t think he was worth it.

“Sean,” I whispered.

He tugged out of my hold and pleaded, “Stop,” his voice beaten down and broken.

I imagined him, beaten down and broken. A child unloved.

Then he took a step back, turned, and walked out. I touched my fingers to my mouth while I stared at the door. I almost walked away.

But that was not the person I was.

“Sean!” I hollered, twisting the knob and swinging the door open. Then seeing him standing there and not expecting him to be, I doubled back.

Sean was facing the door. His head was down, his chest was moving quickly, and his hands were clenched into fists at his side.

“Hey,” I spoke softly and reached for him, but he stepped back.

I wanted to reach out again, even further this time. Fighting that urge was a difficult one, but I managed, and instead waited.

Seconds blurred into minutes, then finally…

“I’m nothin’,” he whispered to the ground, with more pain in his voice than I’d ever heard pour out of a person before.

Oh, God.

“Sean…”

He lifted his head. There were tears in his eyes.

“I deserve nothin’,” he continued. “Sure as fuck nothin’ good anymore. And that’s not ever gonna change, no matter what the fuck I do, or what you say or what anybody fuckin’ says. I know that now. You need to quit lookin’ at me like I’m worth lookin’ at. I’m not. I’m nobody. I’m nothin’ to nobody. A fuckin’ fuckup. Tell me to leave.” He rushed out a breath. His eyes lost focus on the floor between us, then he whispered this time—he pleaded, “Tell me to leave, Shayla. Tell me I’m nothin’, so I can leave.”

Breath catching with emotion, I bit the tremble in my lip and shook my head.

He’d said those words to me before—I’m nothin’ to nobody—and I knew Sean was repeating something he’d heard. Something he was told, over and over, until he believed it himself.

A switch turned on inside me. People I never met and probably would never meet, I hated them. I despised whoever did this to Sean, and I would forever feel this. I knew it.

“Please,” he begged.

“I can’t.”

>“Please.”

I shook my head faster, telling him, “You’re not nothing, Sean. I won’t say that. And I won’t tell you to leave—I don’t want you to.”

His eyes came up. He was still and silent, but his breathing…my God, it filled my ears. The sound—it was tortured.

I reached out and took hold of his wrist. “Come inside. Please. Just…watch TV with me. Or we can talk. Or we can just sit there, I don’t care.”

His chest shuddered.

I tugged on his arm ever so slightly, urging him.

I was prepared to drop down on my knees and beg, to not let go of Sean unless he forced me and still, putting up one helluva fight, but he stepped forward when I pulled, then took another on his own.

I held my breath.

Fighting off tears out of pure joy, I moved aside so Sean could enter my apartment.

He walked to the couch and took a seat on the end. I secured the door, then sat on the cushion beside him.

“Talk? TV?” I asked. “I was watching Shameless before you came over. Ever watch that?”

Sean shook his head. He looked lost.

“That’s okay. All the seasons are on demand right now, so we can start from the beginning.” I snagged the remote off the cushion and cued episode one again, starting it over. “The one girl’s name is Fiona.” I smiled when that grabbed his attention. “If you don’t like it, we can watch something else.”

“Watch what you want.”

“Don’t tempt me. I have four episodes of Sheer Genius saved,” I warned, grinning at his furrowed brow. “Relax. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I got no idea what this is.”

“It’s a reality show focused on hair styling. I never watched it when it originally aired, then I caught some reruns last month. Instantly hooked me. Now I have my DVR set to record them all when they pop on. But it would seriously bore you. Shameless is better.”

“Put on what you want. I’ll sit here.”

I sucked in a breath as my nose started stinging.

Sean just wanted to be here. That was all he wanted. He didn’t care about anything else.

I fought the urge to hug him again and settled for squeezing his knee.

“Which shows do you like to watch?” I asked.

“Don’t know. I never had a TV.”

I slowly turned my head and gaped.

Then before Sean could see it and feel embarrassed, or anything that might make him want to bolt again, I quickly looked away.

“It’s overrated. I don’t even know why I have one. I barely watch it. Most shows are crap.” I peeked over at him without moving my head.

I thought, though I couldn’t be sure without being obvious and actually turning to look, that his mouth was lifted.

That possibility made me seriously happy.

The show started. Sean watched with focus while I watched with half focus, giving him more attention than the Gallaghers.

Then, before I knew it, my long day of haircuts and colors caught up to me, and I’d dozed off at some point during episode two.

I knew this because, when I finally stirred awake and my lashes fluttered open, I saw the on demand menu pulled up, with episode three cued.

Someone just needed to hit play.

I planted my hand to push off the cushion, but feeling a firm thigh under my palm instead of comfy coach, I froze. That was when I registered the feel of breath moving in Sean’s body.

His chest rose under my cheek, slow and steady.

I opened my eyes more.

Sean was still upright, but I wasn’t. I had somehow curled up against his side in my sleep, nearly on top of him. My arm was draped around his waist, my leg was thrown over his knee, and my cheek was pressing to his chest.

I was literally sleeping on Sean.

Tilting my head back, I peered up and saw his head resting against the cushion. Sean’s eyes were closed. He was out cold.

He wasn’t holding me or touching me in any way I wasn’t encouraging. His one arm was draped over the armrest and his other, as I slowly peeled away, I saw was resting on the back of the couch behind me.

One might interpret that as an invitation to cuddle.

Maybe that was exactly what I’d done. Or maybe Sean and I fell asleep simultaneously, and being the natural cuddler I was, I instinctively took the opportunity presented to me.

I couldn’t be sure how this had gone down. I just knew I really didn’t want to move, ever, and furthermore, I really didn’t want to do the very thing I did next.

“Sean,” I whispered, rousing him awake with my touch on his cheek.

Eyes slipping open, he lifted his head while inhaling through his nose, and looked over at me.

“It’s after two in the morning,” I informed him, noticing the time when I’d seen which episode was cued up on the TV. “We fell asleep.”

He sat up more, brought his arm that was behind me down between us, and scrubbed at his face. “Shit,” he muttered, sliding forward. “That show put me out. You were right about TV bein’ crap. Fuck, that was bad.”

My mouth fell open.

He looked over at me and chuckled.

I sighed and melted deeper into the cushion, because Sean laughing inside his chest was a beautiful sound I didn’t hear enough, and I didn’t even care about him insulting my taste in television anymore. That laugh made up for it.

Then, because my sigh was audible and borderline swoony, I played it off so it wasn’t weird by stretching into a yawn.

Sean pushed off from the couch and stood.

“Are you leaving?” I asked, getting to my feet as well.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay to drive? You’re not too tired?”

He smirked, asking, “You Mama-Bearin’ me?”

“I’m looking out for you,” I countered, laughing at him. Mama Bear. That was cute. “I don’t want you wrecking or anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Okay. But, still, can you do me a favor and text me when you get home? Just so I don’t worry…”

Sean stared at me, his brows moving slightly lower, his eyes narrowing the tiniest bit, so faintly, I’d have missed it if I wasn’t already looking directly at them.

Then he did something I will never, ever forget, no matter how many times he did it again, if I was lucky. I’d remember this first time forever. I just knew I would.

Because he had never done anything like it before.

Sean reached out as he stepped closer, getting beside me at the same time as his hand reached around and settled on the side of my neck. Then, as his head dropped beside mine, his hand gave me a squeeze.

It was gentle, barely any pressure, but I felt it.

It was his version of a hug.

Before I could think to do anything in return or say a word, Sean dropped his hand and moved away.

I watched over my shoulder and followed him to the door, the skin on my neck tingling wonderfully.

As Sean went to leave, that gentle look was back in his eyes, and his mouth was lifted ever so slightly in the corner when he jerked his chin in farewell.

“Later,” he called out.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Friends hug, Shay. You know that. Snap out of it!

“Uh, later,” I returned.

The door shut behind him.

Before I turned in for bed that night, I got my text. One word.

Home.

I stared at it, smiling, until I fell asleep.