“April,” Shea hedged quietly, “this is Sebastian. Baz.” She almost corrected the last with a reverence I didn’t come close to deserving. Shea tipped her head to the side like she was trying to convey something, and it became apparent this wasn’t the first time April had heard my name.
April gave her a succinct nod, like she already knew exactly who I was. Yet she didn’t have the first clue who I really was, either. “Right. Baz.” Her voice was clipped and hard, before she braided it with a dense thread of sarcasm. “So nice of you to drop by so early in the morning.”
With a sound clearly shouting Please don’t embarrass me, Shea cleared her throat. Warily, she looked back at me. “Baz, this is my best friend and roommate, April. April and I have been friends since we were seven. She’s…” Her voice lost its edge of apprehension, filled right up with fondness, though she said it like a joke. “She helps take care of Kallie and she thinks she needs to take care of me.”
April huffed out a sigh. “Someone has to take care of you.” She turned back to me with all kinds of feigned pleasantries, each word oozing a warning. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian. I hope you stick around longer than to just enjoy the coffee.”
Shea cringed and I bit back a laugh that came at my own expense, because April’s warm reception sure as hell didn’t do anything to make me feel welcome. But you had to respect someone who didn’t hesitate to say exactly what was on their mind.
No doubt, Shea had the same questions running through her own mind. Five minutes ago, I was hightailing it out her door and the next I was running right back through it.
Surely I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t make sense of it.
“Oh crap!” Shea shouted. The smell of burned pancakes suddenly hit the air, and Shea raced for the burner, yanking the skillet from the flame. “Crap,” she said again, then laughed, slanting me an eye. “Guess I was distracted.”
Right.
“Ewwww! I don’t like burnt pancakes, Momma. They’re icky!” This from that same little voice that under April’s scrutiny I’d almost forgotten was there.
“It’s okay, baby,” Shea tossed over her shoulder while she scraped the burnt batter from the pan and into the garbage. “It’s only two. Our big ol’ bowl is still full of mix. I’ll make new. Why don’t you set the table? We have a guest this morning, so set it for four. You think you can do that, my big girl?”
“Yep!” Kallie replied, probably a little too enthusiastically for someone who’d just been asked to do a chore.
Shea gestured with her chin toward the table. “Have a seat and I’ll get you some coffee.”
Awkwardly, I stood there having no idea what to do. Run like I should have in the first place? Intervene on the mess Shea seemed to be making in the kitchen? Or maybe make myself right at home, hunt down a mug, and pour myself some coffee? Shea obviously had her hands full, but April jumped in on the breakfast, so I finally gave up and accepted her direction, heading toward the table.
Caramel eyes went wide as that same curiosity was renewed. My chest got all tight, the little girl setting me on edge.
This had to rank up there with some of the worst ideas I’d ever had, and I’d done some really stupid shit in my life. I knew it was wrong—being here when I knew I couldn’t stay—feeding that false hope Shea was watching me with, but I didn’t know how to make myself walk away.
I wanted to float in it, just for a little while, in Shea’s good and light. Worse yet, I wanted to delve into just a little more of her dark. Wanted her to show me just how deep it went, somehow knowing it would drown me when she did.
I touched the back of the chair to Kallie’s right. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
“You can’t sit there, silly…that’s my mommy’s chair.” A bell-like laugh rang from her and she pointed to the chair at the opposite side of the table. “You sit in that one. That’s our special spot for people who don’t live here.”
“Um…okay…thank you.”
I rubbed a palm over my face. What in the name of God was I doing?