“Hey Sutton. You okay?”
I lifted my head from the table in the common room of the firehouse. Crew sat down next to me, face lined with concern.
Giving him a weak smile, I said, “I’ve been better.”
He glanced around the room to make sure everyone else was preoccupied, then leaned closer. “This about Lane?”
I grimaced and groaned, hating how transparent I was. “That obvious?”
“You’ve had tough calls before,” he said. “But you’ve always been able to compartmentalize. This is different. And your reaction when he got shot…”
“What about it?”
Crew took a beat to study me, as if weighing whether to press the issue. Instead, he said, “I know he’s my brother, but I hopeyouknow you can talk to me. Or let me get Aspen down here, and you can talk to her.”
I choked on a laugh. “Youwouldwant to sic your wife on me.”
“I offered myself up first,” he pointed out.
Crew and I had worked together for a long time at the Dusk Valley Fire Department, which was responsible for emergency fire, rescue, and injury response for much of Owyhee County. We’d developed a solid working relationship and, dare I say, friendship over the years. I respected his opinion. Working in a job like this, where lives were constantly on the line and we all heavily relied on each other, requiring us to have our shit together both mentally and physically, we’d gotten close.
Still, this was awkward as hell because this was hisbrotherwe were talking about.
Before I could direct us into calmer conversational waters, he surprised me by standing, hauling me out of my chair, and pulling me into a hug. He held me for far longer than was necessary, crushing me to his chest. Long enough, in fact, that several of our colleagues shot us funny looks as they walked past.
When he let go, he yielded a step and held me at arm’s length.
“Thank you.”
“For…?”
“Saving him. He’s a pain in the ass more often than not, but I doubt my family would’ve survived if he hadn’t. So…thank you.”
I swallowed hard, my eyes fixed on the floor at my feet. “I was just doing my job,” I said weakly.
“You held your shit together and gave him a fighting chance. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“You were there too,” I reminded him.
He shook his head. “That save was all you, Sutton.”
Unsure what else to say—and, truthfully, not wanting to speak at all lest the emotion stuck in my throat become evident in my words—I gave him a tense smile and walked away.
Crew was wrong about me though.
I wasn’t selling myself short, and it wasn’t an overinflated sense of self-importance talking when I said I’d saved lives before. Thatwasthe job. Speaking in the grand scheme of things, Lane’s life was no more important than that of anyone else who existed in the world. I hated the idea that members of this community, his family especially, hero-worshipped me. I didn’t deserve it, and I knew it would only make Lane uncomfortable, feeling like he owed me something.
The last thing I needed was to further muddy the waters where he and our relationship was concerned.
Crew, apparently not done with the conversation, didn’t let me get very far before he caught up with me and pulled me around to face him again.
“Have you been to visit him?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t think he’d be too happy to see me.”
“Are you joking?”
“No?” I said, though my intonation made it come out as more of a question.
