Page 12 of Mine to Keep

“So, tell me how it feels to be a local hero.” Lanie eased herself into one of the patio chairs and tucked her short, silver hair behind her ears. Even though she’d let her hair go natural, Jamison couldn’t believe that she was in her mid-fifties. She had the body of a thirty-year-old, and her skin was flawless. Even her gray hair didn’t give away her age.

Her blue eyes sparkled like the stars in the night sky, and she had a smile that could knock the socks off any man.

She looped her arm over the back of her chair. She had a relaxed way about her that Jamison had to admire, especially when he’d been so damn cold every other time he’d been around her—even though he had no reason to be. She had nothing to do with why he was so angry with his family.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not a hero. Not by any stretch of the imagination,” Jamison said softly. “And I’d prefer not to speak of it anymore.” Though it wasn’t just because he was tired of being asked about the day’s events. Every time someone brought it up, he saw Zadie with the cord around her neck, her little body turning blue, and the terror filled his mind all over again. He didn’t want to relive that anymore.

“Oh, but you are,” Lanie said with confidence. “I completely understand your humility and the fact that you don’t want to draw attention to yourself, but put yourself in that young woman’s shoes or those of her family. Or think if that were Farrah or Nancy and you were any of your buddies. You’d be grateful for their efforts.”

He had to admit that she had a point. But that didn’t make him a hero.

And it didn’t change the horrifying realization that Zadie could have died. If she had, then what would they be calling him? Because it certainly wouldn’t be a hero.

“That doesn’t make me a hero. It makes me an off-duty firefighter doing his job.” Jamison uncorked the bottle of wine and left it on the table to breathe while he took a long draw from his beer. There was nothing he hated more than being the center of attention.

Lanie nodded. “If that makes you sleep better at night, I’ll give it to you.” She took the wine and poured herself a glass. She waved the bottle in front of Jamison and Farrah.

Jamison shook his head. While he enjoyed wine a lot, he wanted to finish his beer first.

Farrah nodded, pushing her glass toward Lanie. “I’ll never turn down a good vino.”

Lanie took a long sip of her wine and leaned forward. “You know I have two kids of my own, right?”

“Yes,” Jamison said. “And my father told me you have a grandchild on the way.”

“I do,” Lanie said with a beaming smile. “My eldest, Janet, is due in two months. However, Janet was born much like Zadie.”

Jamison arched a brow. “Really?” he said.

“My ex and I were on vacation when I went into labor, five weeks early. We were driving on the interstate when my water broke. A police officer delivered Janet at a truck stop. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. My daughter was okay, but I nearly bled to death. I’m sitting here today thanks to that officer. He’d tell you that he’s no hero, too, but in my eyes, my daughter’s, and even my asshole ex-husband’s, he’s the most amazing man who ever walked this Earth because of what he did that day. Perhaps you believe you were just doing your job, but not everyone can do what you do.” Lanie reached across the table and took Jamison’s hand. “I get being humble. I understand not wanting everyone to make a big deal of things. But understand that to those you rescue, and to those who witness it, it’s a fucking huge deal. Just roll with the compliments. We appreciate you.”

No matter how hard Jamison wanted to argue with Lanie, he couldn’t. He nodded and smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I look forward to meeting your kids.”

“Good. They will be at Nancy’s birthday party.” Lanie pushed the wine bottle in Jamison’s direction.

He took it and poured himself a hearty glass. “I’m going to need this after that declaration.”

“I thought so.”

“This is a lot for me,” Jamison admitted.

“I know,” Lanie said. “I don’t want to bombard you with my family. However, I love your father. He makes me happy.”

“That’s obvious.” Farrah stood. “I’m going to see if those two clowns need my help.”

Before Jamison could protest, Farrah was halfway across the yard, and he was left alone with his father’s girlfriend.

“I don’t believe she was supposed to leave us unattended,” Jamison said.

“Your father was more worried about you and Seth than the two of us, but that seemed to go okay.”

“So far.” Jamison felt at ease with Lanie, a sensation he welcomed, especially when he was in any of his brothers’ presence. “The nightisstill young. One of us could stay something that will piss the other off.”

“I heard you had a dry sense of humor.”

Jamison sipped his wine, swallowing his normal go-to response, which would have been:I get that from my dad.But he often didn’t knowwhathe got from being raised by Dalton Kirby or what he got from having Steve Jayne as his biological father.

“You’re not alone,” Lanie said. “Some go their entire lives believing one thing about their identity, only to find out something entirely different.”

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