Sean reached over and placed his large, strong hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”
Gavin gave him a wobbly smile. “Thanks.” It was on the tip of his tongue to add Dad, but the word got stuck in his throat.
They stood up at the same time, Sean pulling him close for the quintessential man hug, giving him two hard slaps on the back.
“Well, I’m heading home. Layla’s brothers are coming down from Philly on Monday to look at the pub.”
In addition to trying to replace all the shit they’d lost, he and Oliver had spent the better part of the last three days with Sean, Justin, Killian, and a huge construction crew, gutting the pub and restaurant, reinforcing the structure, pulling out all the burned furniture, shoveling tons of soot and ash, taking the interior down to bare beams. There was still a lot of work to do, but with each passing day, he felt more and more certain they could bring the place back to life.
“What time’s the meeting?” Gavin asked. “Wouldn’t mind stopping in to say hello to those guys.”
Over the course of the past two years, the Moretti brothers had made more than a few trips to Baltimore—they really were overprotective when it came to Layla and Erin—and as such, they’d been absorbed into the Collins clan. He’d thrown back quite a few pints with Tony, Joe, Luca, and Gio in the pub, and he was grateful for their willingness to help restore it.
“Around ten o’clock. We’ve been pulling together as many pictures of the pub and Sunday’s Side as we can find, to help them once our construction crew puts the bones of the place back together. At the rate we’ve been going, we can start drywalling in a couple of weeks. Tony assures us they can make it look exactly the same.”
“That’s good. Riley doing okay?”
Sean shrugged. “She’s been better. She’s still blaming herself. I was hoping the fire inspector would come back with something other than electrical fire, but…”
“I knew what caused it the second Riley mentioned that outlet. I’m so sorry I didn’t…”
“Don’t you start too. No one is to blame. It was an accident caused by old as shit wiring. If it hadn’t started behind the walls, the sprinkler system might have knocked it down, but…oh fuck it. Lots of buts that don’t change a damn thing. We’re rebuilding it and it’ll be better than ever. That’s all that matters.”
Gavin nodded, letting Sean’s words sink in. He’d had a hard time shaking off his own guilt over his part in not preventing the fire, but Sean was right. It was time to look ahead instead of crying over what-ifs.
“Guess I should start dinner.”
Sean shook his head. “Order pizza.”
“I promised—”
“Dammit, Gavin. You had two pretty big life-altering shocks these last couple of weeks. Take the Boy Scout hat off for a night and give yourself a break.”
Gavin rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Fine.” His foster family had dubbed him the Boy Scout, proclaiming the caregiver gene ran strong inside him. He’d never bothered to tell him he was pretty sure it wasn’t nature but nurture that had created his need to take care of others.
He and Sean said their goodbyes, and Gavin walked back to the refrigerator, determined to figure out dinner. He’d just about convinced himself pizza really was his best bet—he was in no mood to cook—when Erin got home.
“Guys?” she called out.
“In here,” Gavin replied.
Erin appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. “Hey,” she said tiredly, looking around. “Ollie not home yet?”
Gavin shook his head. “Went to visit his Pop Pop. Long day?”
She sighed heavily. “Yeah. I’ve had better. You haven’t started dinner yet, have you?”
He gave her a guilty grin. “I was going to suggest we order pizza.” Then he realized she had a grocery bag in her hand. “But…you have something else in mind?” He gestured toward the bag.
“Yes. I need comfort food. My mom’s comfort food.” She walked into the kitchen and started unloading the groceries. “Homemade lasagna.”
“Damn. That sounds good. But I feel bad. You cooked last night.”
She pierced him with a haughty glare. “Oh, I’m not cooking alone. You’ve just be recruited as my kitchen help. And you’re going to clean up the mess. I’m warning you now…it will be substantial.”
He chuckled and saluted. “Fine. Tell me what to do.”
She tossed the cellophane-wrapped package of mushrooms at him. “Wash and slice those for me. And never,” she waved a box of lasagna noodles in the air, “tell my mother I used store noodles in her recipe.”
Gavin nodded solemnly. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”
The two of them worked in silence for a few minutes as he chopped the vegetables she kept tossing his way, while she assembled and cooked the sauce.
“Want to talk about work?” he asked, when it was clear she wasn’t going to broach the subject on her own. It was rare for him to have to prod her for a story, which told him today really had been rough on her.
She lifted one shoulder, staring intently at the sauce. “A little girl was brought to the E.R. in an ambulance. She’d been riding her bike. Hit by a car.” The story was coming out choppy. “It was bad. Really bad.” Her voice broke.
“Is she okay?” Gavin asked quietly.
“It’s still touch and go. Brain trauma. The thing is…it was her brother.”
“What?”
“Her older brother had just gotten his driver’s license. He didn’t see her. He was the one who hit her.”
“Fuck,” Gavin muttered.
“Yeah. Spent the afternoon watching that poor mother fearing for her daughter’s life while consoling her son. I…I just don’t know how she was holding it together like that. She was…so strong. I think if I’d been her, I would have been in a fetal position in the corner.”
“I doubt that,” Gavin said, stepping next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You do one of the toughest jobs there is, Erin. Constantly surrounded by pain, suffering, even death. And you always do it with a compassion, a kindness, a strength most people will never possess.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re an amazing person.”
She looked up at him, smiling, though her lashes were wet with unshed tears. “Thank you. God…” She wiped at her eyes. “You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better.”
“The little girl will be fine. I’m sure of it.”
Erin nodded, letting his reassurance soak in. “Yeah. She will.”
She picked up the heavy wooden spoon to stir the sauce once more but lost her grip. It dropped into the pan, splashing sauce all over one of his new white shirts. “Oh my God, Gavin! I’m so sorry. Here.” She reached for the hem of his shirt and started to lift it before he realized her intent. “Give it to me. I’ll soak it right away.”
Gavin stepped back, quickly tugging the material back down.
Erin looked at him, confused. “We have to wash the sauce out immediately so it doesn’t stain.”