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“How can you be so cool?” I asked, modulating my tone at the last moment so it didn’t sound accusatory.

He’d been a hero, jumping in so quickly. I didn’t want to imply otherwise.

He rubbed his hands up and down my shoulders and arms, soothing me wordlessly.

“It’s my job,” he murmured.

I shuddered, using the movement as an excuse to sink into his chest, seeking comfort.

“Well, your job sucks,” I groused.

His bark of laughter forced a smile to my lips.

“Yeah, some days it does. But today is a win, Andi. We’ve got to celebrate it.”

I shivered. The last thing I felt like was celebrating.

“Win? You and I haveverydifferent definitions of that word.”

I pulled back slightly to stare up into his face. “Ted collapsed. How is that winning?”

He shook his head before meeting my gaze head-on. “We did everything we could. Did everything right. You kept it together. Be proud. I was lucky to have you with me.”

I exhaled, trying to release some of the stress cocktail still fizzling in my bloodstream.

Luck. Ted was lucky to have Ty, not me. He’d kept his cool, directing the others without faltering. No hesitation, just clear direction. And his confidence kept us calm, working together. Ty had probably saved Ted’s life.

I glanced over as the medics lifted Ted onto a stretcher. The other man’s skin was still ashen, but he’d opened his eyes. I mustered a smile for Ty.

“You’re a hero.”

The light in his eyes died.

“I was in the right place at the right time,” he insisted gruffly, slowly setting me away from him. Pushing me away.

I felt the physical distance as if a gulf had opened between us. Ty didn’t want my praise.

Shelly put a motherly arm around my waist, giving me a squeeze.

“You both did great.”

I forced a smile. “Thanks, Shelly. You too.”

I cast one last glance at Ty. He held himself aloof, his gaze focused somewhere off in the distance. For the hero of the story, why did he seem like he wanted to play the villain? Teenage Ty would have puffed up at the compliment. This older, softer version of the man I’d grown up with kept surprising me. High school Ty hadn’t known the meaning of modesty, but this more mature version struck me with his calm competence. He’d moved away from running his mouth about his own prowess and grown into someone I wanted on my team. For trivia or in life as a friend. Any way I could get him.

Chapter 4 – Ty

After Ramon Gonzalez, our jury coordinator, settled us back down, we went through the motions of finishing lunch before returning to the courtroom. Minus Ted. His absence hung like a pall over our group. A miasma we couldn’t shake. There had been no updates from the hospital yet, which wasn’t exactly surprising. It was possible we wouldn’t get one at all. We weren’t Ted’s friends or family. More like temporary coworkers.

I resumed my knitting as I settled into my juror seat, wanting to keep my hands busy. Needing to.

Andi had called me a hero.

I bit back a snort.Right.‘Cause heroes sat behind a desk. I usually felt anything but heroic. Especially when things went badly. As a voice on the phone, I could direct, I could calm, but I couldn’t fix anything. And some days, it killed me. Listening instead of acting, was slowly eating away at me. Telling myself I was helping didn’t always appease the voice inside that couldn’t control the outcome. Stepping off the field, becoming support staff instead of a key player, still chafed. But my soccer injuries meant I couldn’t pass the physical requirements for other first responder jobs.

Granted, this time I’d been hands-on, helping. I ignored the fine tremor and churning in my gut, breathing out the residual stress.

I had endured the congratulations from my fellow jury members. They didn’t need to know I’d been worried. I offered distracted smiles and returned to my knitting as soon as I could without being rude.