Page 12 of Embers of You (Amity #1)

Jameson

“Saw Lily is back for the summer,” Jo goads Parker while he’s on dish duty tonight at the station.

I shake my head, knowing exactly how this is about to go down between them.

“Good for her,” Parker grumbles.

“She looked really pretty. You think she has a boyfriend at her fancy college?”

“Wouldn’t care if she did,” he says, washing the dishes more aggressively than he needs to. We all know this is getting to him.

“Sure seems like you would care, doesn’t it, Jameson?”

“Don’t bring me into this,” I announce.

“You’ll probably see her quite a bit this summer if she works at Trish’s again,” Jo continues.

Parker continues to mumble under his breath, and I stop paying attention.

We all know about Lily being the one that got away.

They were high school sweethearts, and she chose to leave for college.

He was pretty broken up about her for a while, and even got a reputation for being a bit of a playboy with how he acted afterwards.

“Speaking of pretty things over at Trish’s, are you having any luck with the new girl?” Dave asks me, nudging my knee with his own.

“Don’t call her a pretty thing. Her name’s Sutton.”

“So, it’s going well then.”

“What’s with all of you wanting to gossip all the time?” I stand up, twisting to stretch my back.

“It’s more entertaining than sitting here twiddling our thumbs,” Dave retorts.

“Maybe to you, but I think I’d prefer if you did exactly that. It would save me from a headache.”

The signal for a call goes off, and a rag is thrown at me, and I see it was Jo who threw it. I catch it before it falls onto the ground and toss it back to her.

“If you all are done screwing around, we have some lives to save,” I taunt as we all get ready to go on the call.

We get to the small business office that’s complaining about smoke, thinking there’s a fire. Turns out it’s just an issue with the fluorescent lights needing to be replaced. The manager of the building shows up and looks at us like we’re the cause of the issue.

“What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“We responded to a call about smoke in the building,” I answer easily.

“This seems unnecessary, the building is fine. There’s no fire,” the manager snaps.

“There could have been, though,” I reason.

“Well, there’s not.” The man, who couldn’t be more than five foot seven and is wearing a shirt that doesn’t even cover his gut, storms off and I look at the woman who made the call.

“He’s great,” she says sarcastically once he’s out of earshot.

“You did the right thing by calling us,” I tell her honestly.

Once we are back to the station, I tell my crew that I’m going to try to rest a bit. Really, I just want some space away from them for a few minutes.

Laying down on one of the hard cots, I take my phone out and see there’s a text from the number I made sure to save after she called to tell me Duke was ready.

I’ve shown an incredible amount of restraint not reaching out to her and seeing that she’s texted me has a giant smile spreading across my face.

Sutton: I could come by tomorrow if you’re not busy.

My stomach swoops when I think about her offering to come over but then remember it’s because I asked her to groom my horse. My master plan to see her more suddenly feels like it’s not good enough, but it’s even worse when I have to reply saying no.

Jameson: I’ll still be on shift tomorrow. What about this weekend?

Sutton: Maybe. I’ll check my schedule.

Jameson: Any chance you could check your schedule for free time to hang out with me too?

Sutton: Nice try.

Jameson: How was the pizza?

This time it takes her a little longer to respond. I think she’s not going to, and I drop my phone face down on my chest right before it dings again.

Sutton: It was good.

Sutton: Thank you.

It may not be much, but for some reason her texts give me hope that maybe she’s not totally shut off on the idea of us at least being friends. Even if that’s all I get I’ll take it happily with her.

“Jameson!” My name is called, and I groan, it’s not like we’re getting a call, this is purely station drama once again.

“Did you run away?” another voice yells.

“Not yet,” I respond, putting my phone away and getting up to join everyone back in the main room.

As I head back down, I think about how this is one of the rare times that I’m counting down the hours until I can go home. There’s a chance I could see Sutton for longer than a passing minute, and I haven’t had something to look forward to in a long while.

After I get off shift, I’m exhausted as usual, but I still make sure to check in with Ma as soon as I get home. Instead of finding her inside resting like she should be, she’s out on the back deck taking care of some of the plants.

“Ma, what are you doing?” I ask, approaching her.

“Something I love. So if you tell me to stop I’m going to bury you with some of these flowers,” she threatens, pointing her gardening gloves at me.

“It’s not nice to threaten your one and only child, you know?”

“It’s also not nice for my one and only child to try and take away my favorite activities.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m looking out for you.”

“So am I. Because if you ever tried to stop your future wife from doing something she enjoys she would already have you six feet under. I’m giving you a courtesy warning.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re vicious?” I laugh.

She joins me with her own laughter that quickly turns into a cough, and I rush to help her to the bench. Her coughing subsides and she waves me off. “I’m fine, you overreact.”

I wish that’s what it was, but I know she’s downplaying it.

I know we all want to believe she’s not as sick as she is, and luckily most days she seems like she’s not sick at all.

But there’s glimpses like this that bring us back to reality.

The unknown of her diagnosis and treatment, the unknown of the disease as a whole.

“Can I go back to my gardening now?” she asks sarcastically.

“You don’t need my permission.” I gesture toward the flower boxes with an open hand, and she goes back to working on them.

I don’t move from my spot on the bench, taking my phone out to act like I’m doing something on it.

“Go get some rest, you look exhausted,” she tells me.

“I’m fine, if you’re going to be out here then so am I.”

“You’re worse than an overbearing parent.”

“I’m not a parent.” I chuckle.

“You’re not, so maybe you should do something about that and give me grandkids instead of hovering over me.” She gives me a pointed look.

I shake my head, still messing around on my phone and end up pulling up the text thread with Sutton.

Jameson: How’s your schedule looking?

“Are you texting a girl?” my mom asks suddenly. I look up at her, wondering if she has a superpower I’ve never been informed of.

“Who says I’m texting anyone?”

“So you are. Good, she can get you off my back for a little bit.” She smiles over her shoulder at me.

“No woman will ever get me off your back, Ma. You come first.”

She sighs just as my phone signals that I got a text.

Sutton: I’m free tomorrow.

Jameson: Perfect, come by any time.

Sutton: Can I bring my dog?

Jameson: Of course.

I send her my address and feel my mom sit next to me on the bench again. Her cool hand rests on my arm, pulling my attention to her.

“I’m worried about you,” she says suddenly. I’m taken aback because if anyone should be worried between the two of us, it should be me when it comes to her.

“Why?”

“You saying that I come first. I love you, son, but when you find the right woman, she needs to be your priority.”

“If that ever happened, you both could be my priority.”

“You’re such a sweet man.” She takes my hand in hers, patting the top of it. “Someone must’ve done a good job raising you.”

“Yeah. My ma did a pretty good job.”

“She did. You should reward her by getting married and giving her grandchildren.”

“Okay, we’re done with this conversation.” I shake my head.

“Good, I’m done out here. So, you go back home and get some rest while I hide away in the only place you’ll allow me to be.”

“Oh, stop.” I pull her in for a half hug.

I assist her inside, where Duke greets me lazily after getting up from the dog bed I set up in my parent’s house for when I’m working.

He ends up following me back to my little house on the property, though I try to tell him I’m not going to be the most fun.

He doesn’t care, and it’s evident when he plops down on the bed.

At least I’m in good company.

I didn’t see my dad out on our walk home, which is for the best. I can really only handle him on days I didn’t just get off shift. The exhaustion makes my fuse even shorter when it comes to him and our relationship.

As I lay down on my back, folding my arms across my chest, I’m planning to just take a short nap. My phone dings, and I glance at it to see another response from Sutton. Knowing I’m going to see her tomorrow makes it easier for me to relax.

Sutton: I’ll be there around noon.