“Mick didn’t do anything,” I cut in, propping my hands on my hips. “And if he had, I would take care of him myself. I know I’ve needed help with Mama sometimes, but that’s an extreme situation, Jamison. When it comes to my own love life, I’m a grown up. I can take care of myself, by myself, and I’m sick of you acting like I’m a child without the brains God gave a billy goat.”
His eyebrows lift. “Sorry,” he says, obviously a little surprised by the force of my reaction.
I’m shocked too.
And maybe…full of shit.
Sure, I can take care of myself all by myself, but I don’t want to anymore.
I don’t want to face the future standing on my own two feet without anyone to lean on. I like the way Mick looks out for me, the way he checks the refrigerator before we run out of half-and-half for our coffee and insists I take an occasional break from my brutal workout routine to let my body recover and my muscles heal. I appreciate the way he rubs my shoulders after my third night sleeping on the lumpy cot at the station and how intently he listens. He listens with every part of him—body and soul—making me feel safe telling him things I’ve never told anyone else.
And it isn’t just him being there for me that I love.
I love being there for him.
I love the way he rests his head in my lap after dinner, wanting me to run my fingers through his hair while he studies for his EMT courses because he says my touch helps him think. I like cooking him breakfast and grabbing his dirty clothes so we can do laundry together at my place. I like taking care of him and being taken care of.
The thought of going back to a life without these sweet intimacies I’ve started to take for granted the past few weeks is flat-out devastating.
So devastating tears are already welling in my eyes again, even with Jamison standing right in front of me.
“Hey, now,” he says, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Then what’s the matter? What happened to make your pretty face all red?”
I press my lips together, fighting another wave of tears. Jamison lives to tease me. He’s only conventionally nice when I’m really down, and I can’t remember him ever calling me pretty.
I must truly be a pathetic-looking specimen indeed.
“You can talk to me, you know. About anything at all.” He leans down, catching my eye with an expression so kind it threatens to break my heart all over again. “I won’t tell a soul if you don’t want me to. I just want to help.”
I sniff, the unfamiliar urge to spill my guts warring with my usual “saying nothing is best when feelings are concerned” policy.
“Is it your mom?” he asks. “Did something happen?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s Mick’s horrible ex-girlfriend,” I confess, the dam breaking. “She’s here, and she’s pregnant.”
Jamison’s eyes widen ever so slightly before he nods, as if this isn’t the most awful news ever. “I see.”
“It’s his!” I emphasize. “They’re going to have a baby together.”
His eyes narrow. “Well, they made a baby together, and they’re each going to have to do their part to raise it. But that doesn’t mean they’ll be doing any of it together.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, frowning. “Of course, it does. She’ll be in his life forever. That’s it. Everything we planned is over.”
He lifts one shoulder in a gesture so casual it makes me want to choke him a little. “She’ll be in his life. And if she’s as bad as you say, I can’t imagine that will be fun for you or Mick. But it’s nothing other couples haven’t dealt with. It doesn’t have to be over unless you and Mick decide for it to be over.”
I wince. “You don’t understand. I can’t be a stepmom, Jamison. I’m not cut out for it. I have no frame of reference for how to give a kid a normal life, and I know this woman is going to do everything she can to make things difficult. It will be drama and more drama, just like with my mom. I’ll be stuck in my shitty childhood all over again.”
“So, you want to break up with Mick,” he supplies, making me blink in surprise.
“No, I don’t,” I say in a wounded voice. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“You really love him?” he asks with enough empathy that I feel safe nodding yes.
“Well, then…” He gives my arm a soft punch. “I suggest you woman up, buttercup, and prove you’re as tough as you say you are.”
I cross my arms at my chest and glare at him, but before I can respond, he pushes on.
“Put yourself in his place—Mick just found out he’s going to be a dad. He’s got to be scared to death. But instead of offering your support, you’re out here crying.” He pauses, meeting my glare with a smile. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, Faith, but this isn’t like you. You save lives. You put yourself in danger for other people all the time without a second thought. You’re a hero. You’re not the girl who goes running off to cry in her hankie when things get tough.”
Hero.
The word sparks something inside my memory.
The fortuneteller in New Orleans…
She mentioned adversity and a card that symbolized someone being called upon to stand strong in a time of trial.
Someone, who would need to be a hero…
“But I’m scared,” I whisper, knowing I’m in a dark place if I’m willing to admit that to Jamison.
He steps closer, brushing his thumb across my damp cheek. “That’s okay. We all get scared when the stakes are high, and there are no higher stakes than knowing you might lose the person you love.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh more melancholy than anything I’ve heard out of him in all the years I’ve known him. “But if you run away without a fight, you’ll regret it. Take it from someone who knows from experience.”
I glance up at him, surprised. As far as I know, he hasn’t been in a serious relationship with anyone—or anything—aside from his Mustang in years. “Who was she?”
He shrugs and his focus drops to the concrete. “Someone it would have been really hard to be with. There were a lot of things standing between us. She got scared and walked away and I…let her. I let her go when I should have done everything I could to convince her we were worth fighting for. Missed her every day since.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
A wry smile curves one side of his mouth. “Yeah, well, don’t be sorry. Be smart and learn from my mistakes.”
I open my mouth to promise I’ll try, but before I can speak, a voice calls my name from across the street. Even before I turn, I know it’s Mick coming to convince me we’re worth fighting for.
But Jamison’s spared him the trouble.
On impulse, I throw my arms around his neck, giving him a fierce hug.
He laughs. “You’re welcome. Now get in there and fight.”
“I will,” I promise as I pull away, turning to watch Mick jogging across the street.
As soon as his eyes meet mine, I know fighting is the right call.
All I want to do is take him home and show him how much I love him, to prove to him that I’m prepared to be his port in the storm, his hero when the chips are down, and the person who stands by him no matter how hard things get.