Witch’s Promise (Shadowguards #3.5)

11. Sean

Chapter 11

Sean

H e winced as he prodded the fresh bruises blooming across his face. Fuck, he looked like shit. The days since his encounter with Gabe had crawled by, each one a painful reminder of what he'd lost and what he stood to lose again.

He couldn't help himself though. The fight last night had been inevitable, a desperate attempt to exorcise the demons that haunted him since seeing Gabe again. The familiar dance of violence, the rush of adrenaline, the satisfying crunch of bone against bone - it was the only thing that made him feel alive anymore. Well, that and the hefty payout from The Elder. A man had to eat, after all.

Sean ran a hand through his disheveled hair, grimacing at the tangles. Christ, he was a mess. How the hell was he supposed to show up at Gabe's dad's birthday party looking like he'd gone ten rounds with a meat grinder? He needed help, and there was only one person he could turn to in a crisis like this.

Katelyn.

His fingers fumbled with his phone, muscle memory taking over as he dialed her number. She picked up on the second ring, because of course she did. Katelyn Cross was nothing if not reliable.

"Let me guess," her voice crackled through the speaker, a mix of exasperation and fondness. "You need me to work my magic on your sorry ass again?"

Sean chuckled, the sound rough in his throat. "You know me too well, Kate. Think you can swing by? I promise I'll make it worth your while."

There was a pause, and Sean could practically see Katelyn rolling her eyes. "Fine. But this is the last time, Sean. I mean it. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Just please?"

Another sigh. "We'll be there in twenty. And Sean? Try not to pick any more fights between now and then, okay?"

The line went dead, and Sean slumped against the bathroom sink. He was lucky to have Katelyn in his life, even if he didn't deserve her friendship. Hell, he didn't deserve much of anything these days.

True to her word, Katelyn arrived twenty minutes later, her husband Ricci in tow. Sean buzzed them up, nervously pacing the small confines of his studio apartment. It wasn't much, but it was home. Or at least, as close to a home as he allowed himself these days.

The knock on the door startled him out of his brooding. He opened it to find Katelyn, radiant even in her early stages of pregnancy, with Ricci hovering protectively behind her.

"Jesus Christ, Sean," Katelyn muttered, pushing past him into the apartment. "You look like you went three rounds with a bulldozer."

Sean managed a weak smile.

Ricci snorted, helping Katelyn settle onto Sean's threadbare couch. "I'm sure the other guy's laughing all the way to the bank. You've got to stop this shit, man."

Sean bristled at the criticism, even though he knew Ricci was right. "Yeah, well, we can't all have picture-perfect lives, can we?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Sean regretted them. Ricci's face darkened, and Katelyn shot him a warning look.

"Sit your ass down," she commanded, patting the spot next to her on the couch. "And start talking. What the hell happened.”

Sean obeyed, sinking into the worn cushions with a groan. His body ached in places he'd forgotten existed, a testament to the beating he'd taken - and given - the night before.

"It was... fuck, Kate. I don't even know where to start."

Katelyn's expression softened, her hand finding his and squeezing gently. "The beginning's usually a good place."

So Sean talked. He told them about seeing Gabe at the coffee shop, about following him like some creepy stalker. He recounted their conversation by the river, the weight of unspoken words and years of regret hanging between them.

"And now he's invited me to his dad's birthday party," Sean finished, running a hand through his hair. "Can you believe that shit? After everything I put him through, he's giving me another chance."

Katelyn was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. "And you're going, right?"

Sean nodded, a knot of anxiety forming in his gut. "Yeah. I mean, I have to, don't I? It might be my only shot at making things right."

"Or fucking them up even more spectacularly," Ricci muttered, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Katelyn.

"Not helping, babe," she hissed before turning back to Sean. "Look, I think it's good that you're going. But Sean, you've got to be honest with him. About everything."

The weight of her words settled over Sean like a lead blanket. Everything. His father's organization, the years of violence and guilt, the desperate attempts to numb the pain. How could he possibly explain all of that to Gabe?

"I don't know if I can, Kate," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if he hates me for it?"

Katelyn's hand tightened around his, her eyes fierce with determination. "Then at least you'll know. But Sean, you can't keep living like this. The fighting, the self-destruction - it's killing you. And for what? Punishment for sins you think you can never atone for?"

Sean flinched, her words hitting too close to home. "You don't understand. The things I've done-"

"Were in the past," Katelyn cut him off. "You're not that person anymore, Sean. You've changed. Grown. It's time you started allowing yourself to believe that."

Ricci cleared his throat, his earlier annoyance softening into something like sympathy. "Look, man. I know I give you shit, but Kate's right. You deserve a shot at happiness, same as anyone else. Don't fuck it up by holding onto guilt that isn't yours to carry anymore."

Sean blinked, surprised by the unexpected support. He opened his mouth to argue, to list all the reasons why he didn't deserve forgiveness or happiness or any of it. But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, he found himself nodding, a strange mix of fear and hope churning in his gut. "Okay. I'll... I'll try. But first, we've got to do something about this face. I can't show up looking like I just crawled out of a bar fight."

Katelyn laughed, the sound brightening the dingy apartment. "Now that, I can help with. Ricci, be a dear and grab my bag from the car?"

Katelyn's laughter faded as Ricci returned with her bag, a weathered leather satchel that had seen better days. Sean watched, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation churning in his gut, as she rummaged through its contents. Her hands emerged clutching a small, ornate jar, its surface etched with symbols Sean didn't recognize.

"Alright, tough guy," Katelyn said, unscrewing the lid. "Let's see what we can do about that face of yours."

The scent hit Sean first - a heady mixture of herbs and something else, something distinctly magical. It made his nose tingle and his eyes water. "Christ, Kate. What the hell is that stuff?"

Katelyn smirked, dipping her fingers into the jar. "Trust me, you don't want to know. Now hold still."

The ointment was cool against his skin, Katelyn's touch gentle as she applied it to his bruises. Sean closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax into the sensation. It had been so long since anyone had touched him with such care, such tenderness. The realization made his chest ache with a longing he couldn't quite name.

"There," Katelyn said after a few minutes. "Take a look."

Sean opened his eyes, blinking in the harsh bathroom light. He turned to the mirror, bracing himself for disappointment. But the face that stared back at him was...

"Holy shit," he breathed, leaning in for a closer look. The bruises were gone. Completely fucking gone. It was like the fight had never happened. "Kate, how the hell..."

Katelyn shrugged, but there was a hint of pride in her smile. "Let's just say I know a healing witch who owes me a favor. Cost me a pretty penny, but it was worth it to see that look on your face."

Sean ran a hand over his newly healed skin, marveling at the smooth texture. No pain, no swelling, not even a hint of discoloration. It was a fucking miracle.

"I don't know how to thank you," he said, turning to face Katelyn. The words felt inadequate, pathetically small in the face of her kindness. "I mean it, Kate. This is... fuck, it's more than I deserve."

Katelyn's expression softened, a mix of exasperation and fondness that Sean had grown all too familiar with over the years. "You know, one of these days, you're going to have to start believing that you do deserve good things, Sean."

The words hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. Sean looked away, unable to meet her gaze. Because how could he explain it to her? How could he make her understand the weight of guilt that pressed down on him every goddamn day? The faces of the people he'd hurt, the lives he'd ruined in the name of family loyalty. No amount of magical healing could erase those scars.

"Kate, I-"

"Save it," she cut him off, her tone gentler than her words. "I don't need your thanks, Sean. What I need is for you to get your shit together and go after what you want. For once in your life, allow yourself to be happy. That's all the repayment I need."

Sean swallowed hard, throat tight with emotion he couldn't quite name. "And if I fuck it up? If I hurt him again?"

Katelyn sighed, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "Then you pick yourself up and try again. That's what normal people do, you know. They make mistakes, they learn from them, they move forward. It's about damn time you joined the rest of us in the land of the living."

A chuckle escaped Sean's lips, surprising even himself. "When did you get so wise, huh?"

"Probably around the time I decided to let this idiot knock me up," Katelyn replied, jerking a thumb towards Ricci, who let out an indignant "Hey!" from the other room.

The moment of levity was short-lived, though. As Sean caught sight of his reflection again, the reality of what he was about to do came crashing back down. Gabe's father's birthday party. A chance to make things right, or to fuck them up even more spectacularly.

"I should get ready," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Can't show up empty-handed, right?"

Katelyn nodded, understanding flashing in her eyes. "Go. We'll clear out. And Sean?"

He paused at the bathroom door, looking back at her.

"Remember what I said. You deserve happiness too. Don't sabotage yourself before you even get started, okay?"

Sean managed a tight nod before escaping to his bedroom. He stood there for a moment, surrounded by the sparse furnishings that passed for his life these days. A bed, a dresser, a small desk covered in papers he never seemed to get around to sorting. It was a far cry from the life he'd once imagined for himself. The life he might have had, if things had been different.

With a sigh, Sean began to get ready. He showered, scrubbing away the last traces of the previous night's fight. As the hot water pounded against his skin, he tried to wash away the doubts and fears that clung to him like a second skin. It didn't work, of course. It never did.

Dressing was a careful process, each item of clothing chosen with painstaking deliberation. Dark jeans, a crisp button-down shirt, the leather jacket that had seen him through more fights than he cared to remember. It was armor, in its own way. A shield against the vulnerability he was about to expose himself to.

As Sean gave himself one last once-over in the mirror, he couldn't help but think of all the ways this could go wrong. All the ways he could fuck it up, hurt Gabe again, prove once and for all that he didn't deserve a second chance.

But Katelyn's words echoed in his mind, a counterpoint to the familiar litany of self-doubt. You deserve happiness too. Don't sabotage yourself.

"Fuck it," Sean muttered, grabbing his keys and wallet. He was going to do this. He had to.

The walk to Petal Pushers was mercifully short. The cool autumn air nipped at his cheeks, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves and woodsmoke. It was a smell that always reminded Sean of home, of the Salem he'd known before everything had gone to shit.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Sean pushed his way inside, the familiar scent of flowers washing over him. It was a comforting ritual, one he'd performed countless times over the years. His eyes automatically sought out the pristine white tulips nestled in a corner display.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer," Mrs. Landry called out, emerging from behind a veritable wall of sunflowers. Her smile was as warm as ever, though Sean caught the flicker of concern in her eyes as she took in his appearance. "The usual, I presume?"

Sean managed a small smile in return, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not today, Mrs. L. I need something... different. It's for a party."

Mrs. Landry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "A party, you say? Well now, that is different. Special occasion?"

Sean hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. How could he explain the significance of this moment? The weight of history and regret that hung over it?

"It's... it's for someone I used to know," he said finally. "Someone I hurt. I'm trying to make it right."

Understanding dawned in Mrs. Landry's eyes. She nodded, a determined set to her jaw. "Say no more, dear. I know just the thing."

Sean watched as she bustled about the shop, pulling flowers from various displays with practiced ease. Her hands moved with a grace that spoke of years of experience, weaving together a bouquet that was somehow both elegant and unpretentious.

When she presented him with the finished product, Sean felt his breath catch in his throat. It was beautiful. Soft shades of blue and purple, accented with sprigs of white. It spoke of new beginnings, of hope and possibility.

"It's perfect," Sean said, his voice rough with emotion. "How much do I owe you?"

Mrs. Landry waved him off. "Consider it a gift, dear. For new beginnings."

Sean opened his mouth to protest, but the look in Mrs. Landry's eyes stopped him. Instead, he simply nodded, cradling the bouquet carefully in his arms.

Sean clutched the bouquet to his chest as he swung his leg over his motorcycle, the familiar rumble of the engine doing little to calm his frayed nerves. The address Gabe had given him was burned into his memory, each turn and street name a mantra he'd repeated to himself on the ride over. He couldn't fuck this up. Not again.

The wind whipped through his hair as he navigated the winding streets of Salem, each mile bringing him closer to a confrontation he'd both longed for and dreaded for years. The bouquet, safely tucked into the saddlebag, felt like a ticking time bomb. A peace offering? An apology? Fuck if he knew anymore.

As Sean turned onto Gabe's street, his breath caught in his throat. The houses here were a far cry from the modest neighborhood they'd grown up in. Each property seemed to sprawl for acres, manicured lawns and wrought-iron gates screaming of old money and even older secrets.

The address matched the one scrawled on the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. Sean pulled up to the curb, killing the engine and taking a moment to gape at the house - no, the fucking mansion - before him.

It was an imposing structure, all red brick and white columns, with windows that gleamed in the late afternoon sun. The driveway was packed with cars, everything from sensible sedans to flashy sports cars that probably cost more than Sean had made in his entire life.

He retrieved the bouquet from the saddlebag, wincing as he noticed a few petals had been crushed during the ride. Fuck. Of course he'd manage to screw up even this small gesture.

The walk to the front door felt like a death march, each step bringing Sean closer to a reckoning he wasn't sure he was ready for. The sounds of the party drifted through the air - laughter, music, the clinking of glasses. It was the sound of happiness, of normalcy. Everything Sean had convinced himself he didn't deserve.

His finger hovered over the doorbell, doubt gnawing at him like a rabid dog. What the fuck was he doing here? He didn't belong in this world of wealth and success. He was a fuck-up, a washed-up fighter with more baggage than a goddamn airport carousel.

The chime was barely audible over the noise of the party, and for a moment, Sean thought about bolting. He could hop on his bike, tear out of here, pretend this whole thing had never happened. It would be easier that way. Safer.

But then the door swung open, and all thoughts of escape evaporated like mist in the morning sun.