“What’d she say?” Rafe smirked at Sionn’s assessing glance. “Don’t give me that look. I can’t see you unloading to a guy. Sorry there, man, but you’re more of a talk-to-a-chick kind of guy. If your therapist was a man, you’d either look at him as someone to bang or not interested in.”
“She told me not to feel guilty about Oona’s getting shot.” It was impossible. Most days he only briefly felt that searing pang of remorse in his chest. Before he’d let Dee play, it’d been worse. Now, the mornings held more of a… hope to them, knowing that the musician would show up at some point to play guitar and talk. “How that hell can I not feel that? I was there.”
“We’re Catholic,” Rafe pointed out. “Is that even possible? Not having guilt?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” A seagull pecked at the ground a few feet away from them, and Sionn tossed it a bit of his sticky bun. A small war escalated over the crumbs, and the first bird battered off the newcomers with his wings, gulping down the bread quickly. “They say we’re sinners because we’re gay. Do you feel guilty about that?”
“Nope. Not a fucking shred of guilt.” Rafe’s wolfish grin made Sionn chuckle. Then the blond sobered. “But killing’s different. Someone dying in front of you is different. You did what you could, didn’t you? You popped the guy after he shot her. You didn’t give him time to shoot the kid again, and she’s running around shopping her head off now. You’re supposed to feel guilt about that? Because he was on your team? You didn’t hire him. He worked for the same firm you did. They’re the ones that fucked up.”
“He was probably supposed to have gotten the whole family.” He chewed on his upper lip, thinking back. “It’s just a pretty shitty thing to happen. No kid should die because her father wants to change the world. What happened to wanting to be the good guy, eh?”
“Dude, some people die just because they’re in the way. You and I know that one.” Rafe’s eyes darkened, and something passed between them. “You did your job, and someone else fucked up. It came out the way it was supposed to. You’re sitting here with me all emo like some eyeliner-wearing angst boy, while I’m still the hottest thing in San Francisco.”
“You know what I thought about when I was lying on the floor?”
“Oh my fucking God, this fucking hurts?” Rafe shot back. “Or maybe, hell, am I dying and I haven’t slept with Andrade yet?”
“Right, boyo, like you’d be what my last thought would be,” Sionn murmured, picking up his coffee again. “I was pissed off because I was thinking how much of a fecking brat she was. Like a minute before everything went down, that’s what I was thinking, then I’m on the ground because one of the team shot me.”
“Pretty sure you think that about me too,” Rafe snorted. “Probably will be thinking it right before you lower me into the ground.”
“Probably.” Rafe kicked at his shin, and he yelped. “Hey, just don’t go looking for pallbearers yet. I’d probably drop you right now. Give me a few months to get the scar tissue to go down.”
“Not planning on dying any time soon. I’ve already taken a shot at it, remember? Didn’t like it,” he pointed out. “So, let’s get back to the reason I’m sitting here drinking coffee instead of slamming down some pancakes down at Mel’s… you know, that guitarist you wanna bang.”
“He’s probably not even—”
“You know what this reminds me of? High school,” Rafe exclaimed, slamming his hand on the steel-topped table. The cups rattled in their saucers, and a knife skittered across the flat surface, smearing butter on the edge of Sionn’s hand. “You hanging out behind the guys and not going up to anyone at the dance.”
“I was gay,” Sionn pointed out. “At a Catholic school. Who the fuck was I going to ask to dance?”
“Me. I would have danced with you.” He shook his head. “But see, that’s not the point.”
“What is the point? Because you’ve lost me, Andrade.”
“The point is that you don’t take risks—”
“And you take too many,” Sionn cut in.
“Focus, Murphy, focus. We’re talking about your tight ass, not mine.” As reprimands went, it was soft, but the tap of a fork’s tines on the back of Sionn’s hand was enough to get his attention. “Go ask him out for dinner. Enough with the damned coffee chats. Take a fucking chance. So you don’t ride off into the sunset on your damned matching unicorns. That shit doesn’t matter. Just go do something fun. If you get laid and things get funner, then even better.”
“Is funner even a word?” He cocked his head at Rafe.
His friend sighed and motioned to the waitress for a refill. “It sure as fuck won’t be if you don’t even try.”