So, fine, she wouldn’t talk about Anthony. Not with another man. Not in that man’s bed. Certainly not when she was so raw where her first love was concerned right now.
“Well,” she finally began, “because it would’ve been nice to have been able to imagine there being heroes around who could save all the people I lost,” she said. Outside of her family, Anthony was the only other person who ever knew all this about Dani, who knew how loss had shaped so much of her life.
Sean reached out, bridging the short distance between them and clasping Dani’s hand in his. In her mind’s eye, this man was always larger than life. His job. His usually gregarious personality. His sexuality and swagger. Who knew this sweet, soft, quiet side to him existed as well? And it made it easier for her to keep talking.
“My mom died when I was only two weeks old from complications of my birth, so I grew up with my dad and his parents, my nana and pap. I missed having a mom, but I also had a lot of love in my life. And I had Granny, my mom’s mother, to tell me who my mama was and keep me connected to that whole side of the family. That was really important because my dad and his family were white, but my mama’s people were members of the Kiowa tribe, and without Granny, I wouldn’t have really had a way to learn about or be a part of that community.”
“It keeps happening,” Sean said, swallowing.
“What?”
“Finding things that we have in common. My mom died when I was really young, too. I was five, but my memories of her are pretty vague. More impressions or feelings than fully formed memories, if that makes sense.”
“It does,” she said, surprised to hear that Sean had apparently been noting all those commonalities just like she had. And this answered her question about what his mother had been like given that he’d described his dad as a “shit father”. “Five is so young. I’m sorry. And you’re right. It does keep happening, doesn’t it?”
He nodded. “Tell me more.”
Dani adjusted her head on the pillow and took a deep breath, because she really hadn’t told him anything yet. “Granny knew everyone. She knew their business and she knew how to get shit done. She made sure people had food if they needed it. She made arrangements for people to go to the doctor if they needed to. She volunteered for everything and she was impossible to say no to, which made her highly effective at recruiting volunteers for absolutely everything.”
“She sounds like a badass like you.”
Dani grinned. “She definitely was. I come by my ball-busting naturally.” She winked and loved that it made Sean chuckle. “She took me along to help out on everything she did. I served at the elders’ Christmas dinner, sold raffle tickets at the annual summer festival, and helped deliver meals to people who couldn’t get out and about. She took me to all the Pow Wows and made sure I attended the youth language and culture camps. My favorite thing, though, was the Black Leggings Warrior Society Ceremonial, a dance that recognizes the role of warriors and soldiers in the tribe and honors their contributions to the country. To young me it was so inspiring, because these were people who’d devoted their lives to serving other people, and that’s what I wanted, too. It’s part of what made me want to join the army.”
“And what made you want to be a nurse?” Sean asked, like he was absolutely fascinated.
Dani’s gaze dropped to where his thumb was lazily stroking across her knuckles. That little bit of connection felt so good. It was exactly the kind of thing she’d been missing for so long.
“Is this okay?” he asked, squeezing her hand.
“Yeah.”
“Is this too weird?” he asked. “Us, being serious and talking about real stuff?”
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that told her how much this was meaning to him—and it made her realize it meant something to her, too. Whatever this was, they were in it together. “If it’s weird at all, it’s good weird.”
He quirked a lopsided grin. “Good weird kinda describes us, don’t you think? ‘Your crazy matches my crazy. Big time.’”
She laughed at the line from ‘Deadpool’. “Apparently so,” she said, squeezing his hand. And then she sighed, because she was at the hard part of her story now.
“You don’t have to answer my question if you don’t want to,” he said, giving her an out.
But she wanted to tell him. “No, it’s okay. I haven’t talked about any of this in a really long time, and it’s nice. I became a nurse because my father died in a construction accident when I was eight. It took the ambulance twenty minutes to arrive. I was with Granny when we heard about it, and we were close enough that she drove us there. She knew the foreman, and he took one look at me and wouldn’t let us get closer. My dad was bleeding out no matter what they did, and he didn’t want me to see him that way. But I wanted nothing more than to go to him. To help him. And that was the day I decided, whatever I did with my life, I would help people.”