Ty huffed. “When’s the last time you checked your cell phone?”
“I always turn it off during business hours. No personal calls.” He cast a sideways glance at Ollie as if to make a point.
Ollie resisted the urge to flip him off.
“You have akid!”
“Yes, and Ialsohave a wife.”
God, Ollie hated this guyso much.
“Who can’t reach you right now to let you know that your kid is in the hospital.”
Ah.
Chiu took a step back and collapsed into the chair. All the color had drained from his face. “My—Peter?”
“He took a line drive to the throat that collapsed his trachea. He’s fine. Field surgery.” Ty gave a tight smile. “Even though the EMTs took forever to arrive.”
Jesus. Ollie could guess what that had looked like. And the fact that someone could have died—again—if Ty hadn’t been in the right place at the right time made him absolutely furious.
Chiu’s mouth worked soundlessly for the second time that day. Then he managed, “You…?”
“Me,” Ty agreed. “Because that’s what I do, Mr. Chiu. Don’t forget that. And so the last thing you’re going to do as part of this agreement? You’re going to go see your son in the hospital.” He leaned down. “And you’re never going to miss another one of his games. You’re going to be at every extracurricular event that kid has for the rest of his life—sports, concerts, plays, blood drives, bake sales, fundraiser car washes. All of it, Mr. Chiu. You’re going to do that for me because my dad didn’t. Understand?”
Chiu licked his lips and reached out for Ty’s hand. “Yes. I—thank you. Yes.”
Blinking, Ty shook it.
Suddenly Chiu seemed very small and very tired. Ollie cleared his throat and figured,what the hell. “Would you like a ride to the hospital?”
Chapter 22
TY LEFTthe mayor’s office in a daze with Ollie’s hand in his.
The past week had all blurred together in his head. Nothing felt real. Maybe it was the sudden relief from the stress of this meeting? From the end of the schoolyear? Maybe—
They stepped back into the main meeting hall, and Ty stopped in his tracks.
No one had left.
For the first time, he took in the full picture. Several people held signs with slogans: Friends of Tyler Morris. Protect Our Good Samaritans. SUFFOLK HIGH SCHOOL LOVES COACH M.
Jenny Darel, who always glowered at Ty when he went to use the copy machine, was there, wearing a button—jeez, most of them had buttons—bearing the EMS symbol inside the Maltese cross.
Ty tried to swallow, but there was a lump in his throat. He managed it on the second try. “Ollie… what…?”
Ollie tugged Ty’s hand until he turned toward him, then put his hand on Ty’s face. He leaned their foreheads together. “They weren’t going to let Chiu chase you out of here without a fight.”
Theynothing. Ollie organized this. Ty’s eyes stung. “Nobody’s ever—” His throat closed up again. He couldn’t finish.
“They fucking should,” Ollie said fiercely. “And as long as I’m around, they always will.”
Ty squeezed his eyes shut and let Ollie hug him for a long minute.
Then he wiped his eyes and turned to the crowd. “Uh—”
They descended on him as one with handshakes and thanks—staff from the school, off-duty paramedics, Jake and Peggy and Jason and half a dozen parents, three kids from the baseball team, and the redheaded sixth grader who threw spitballs.
