Thank God. Come rescue me from Mom.
Ronda was probably hovering with ice packs and Tylenol and snatching away all the reading materials.
Be there in twenty. And get off your phone!
Oh God, save me from my mother.
For the moment Tyson’s prayer went unanswered. Mom fluffed the pillow beside him and tried placing it behind his back. If he stayed in this bed another minute he would lose his mind. “I think I’ll just move to the sofa, Mom.”
Her brows crinkled. “You should stay in bed and rest, honey.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I can rest just as easily on the sofa.”
“Wait, I’ll get your dad to help you.”
“I can walk across the room on my own.” He proved it by coming to his feet and heading toward the living area of the guest room.
Mom dashed to his side—just in case.
“I feel fine this morning. My headache’s gone and I—” As luck would have it he broke out into a coughing fit.
Mom scowled at him. “You feel fine, huh? How did you boys get so stubborn?”
Oh, he could hazard a guess.
After he was settled on the sofa, Mom headed toward the door. “I’ll be right up with some nice green tea to soothe that cough. It’s good for the lungs. Mind you don’t turn on that TV,” she called over her shoulder, then closed the door behind her.
Ty dropped his head against the seatback and flung the throw pillow over his face. He needed Jenna. Once she got here, Mom would stop fussing around.
Jenna.
He’d been thinking of her since he’d awakened at seven o’clock this morning. He hadn’t missed the sheer panic on her face last night. Even the good news about his lungs hadn’t smoothed the creases on her forehead or chased the shadow of fear from her eyes.
Last night she’d faced her biggest nightmare. But he was fine. She’d surely see that even though he sometimes encountered dangerous situations, he and his crew could handle it. Just because her dad had died on the job didn’t mean he would too. In fact, the odds were long against it.
Hopefully a good night’s sleep had left her feeling more optimistic. He was strangely rested and refreshed even though he’d gotten little sleep. Perhaps because the sleep he did get was nightmare free. It was the most restful night he’d had in a while.
He thought of the girl he’d found huddled beneath her bed and allowed a sliver of a smile. Luke had texted this morning with an update. Her dad had appeared at the firehouse with donuts and a good report. He asked them to pass on his gratitude to Tyson.
He could be grateful for the save and still recognize that he’d defied orders and taken a risk because of his guilt over Andre Wallace. Maybe it had worked out this time, but it could’ve ended very differently. Very tragically.
He could never make up for the boy he’d lost, but he could go on helping people, saving lives. Just because he wasn’t perfect didn’t mean he couldn’t be useful. But he needed help processing this guilt that had been weighing so heavily on him. He needed therapy. There was too much on the line to mess around with this any longer.
He would get help, get healthy, and then he would go on helping people as he was meant to do. Just having a plan in place madehim feel better. Peace washed over him, healing a small tucked-away place inside him.
“Tyson?”
At the sound of Jenna’s panic-laced voice, he ripped the pillow off his head. “Hey there.”
Her brow was furrowed as she came through the doorway. “What’s wrong? Why’d you have the pillow over your face?”
“Oh, you know... Mom.”
Jenna’s brow smoothed. “She’s only trying to help. She sent this up for you with strict instructions that you drink it all.”
Ty took the mug of steaming tea. “Yes, ma’am.” He sipped, winced when it tasted like grass clippings, and set it on the coffee table.
“How’s the headache? The cough?”
