Ty tapped the pen against the notepad. “How do you feel about riding lawn mowers? Because pretty soon the grass is going to start growing and there is… a lot of it.”
“How much is a lot?”
“Five acres, I think. But only one of them gets cut.”
“So you’re thinking you do most of the cooking, I do most of the mowing?”
“Works for me if it works for you. And we can sub out as needed.”
Ollie nodded, his lips pursed as though in thought. “Okay, what about if my kid starts to drive you crazy?”
“I’ll go elsewhere?” What a silly question. “I’m a big boy. I’m perfectly capable of running away. Either in my truck or elsewhere on the aforementioned five acres.”
“I meant—you can tell me if he’s bugging you, you know? And I’ll deal with it. You don’t have to. He’s not your responsibility just because he also lives here, but….” He blew out a breath. “I don’t know, I don’t want you yelling at him either.”
Ty didn’t mean to get stuck on that, but he did. “Huh.”
Ollie’s pretty eyes went the tiniest bit flinty. “Problem?”
“Oh God, no.” Ty shook his head, smiling a little. “It just occurred to me that you might be the first good father ever to live inthis house. But seriously, I like kids. I didn’t volunteer to help coach the baseball team because I think I’ll enjoy watching them lose.”
Laughing, Ollie leaned back on his stool. “I take it they’re, uh, not very good this year?”
“I asked Coach Tate about a mercy rule.”
“Oh man.” Ollie reached for his wineglass. “I was thinking about taking Theo to the game this week, but I don’t want to traumatize him. Maybe we’d better skip.”
“Try the lacrosse team instead,” Ty advised wryly. “I hear they’re good.”
Ollie grinned. “Noted.”
“Speaking of Theo, do either of you have any allergies or medical conditions I need to know about?”
“Aside from recent chemo recovery and PTSD?” He tilted his head. “Theo’s allergic to bee and wasp stings. He has an EpiPen. Three, actually—one he has with him all the time, one we keep at home for backup, and one at the school office.”
Ty made a mental note. Jesus, the poor kid—as if he didn’t have enough to worry about. And Ollie had to be living in perpetual fear. But maybe living with a paramedic would help with some of the anxiety. “It’s a big house. We should have an extra extra, maybe, when we figure out where the best place to keep a second one is.”
Shit—that had just come out, the automatic thought of someone who’d been a paramedic for four years. He hoped Ollie didn’t think he was overstepping.
But Ollie’s expression didn’t hold a hint of offense. Instead his amber gaze had gone thoughtful, and he was tilting his head like he was reevaluating something. Ty felt his ears start to heat up under the weight of it; it made him want to squirm. “That’s… actually a really great idea. Thanks.”
“Uh, no problem.”Deflect, deflect, deflect.“What about you, though? Anything I need to know about the PTSD? I know it’s not always predictable, but if you know you have certain triggers…?”
Perfect deflection—Ollie broke the gaze and glanced down at the countertop. Ty felt simultaneously relieved and disgusted with himself. “I keep it together pretty well when I’m awake. Some days are better than others. Hot, loud days are the worst, but out here in the middle of nowhere, I should be okay.”
Four years as a paramedic had made Ty pretty good at hearing the details people didn’t say out loud. “And when you’re not awake?”
He winced. “The nightmares can get pretty intense. I’ve been lucky so far—nothing too bad with Theo in the room with me. He has this kind of wheezy snore when he sleeps, so when I wake up from one and I can hear that… it helps.”
“Okay. It’s a big house, so you can pick rooms that are close together if that’s easier for you, or far apart if you want to be able to, uh, wake up screaming from a nightmare without ruining your kid’s sleep schedule.” Maybe he should let Ollie picktwobedrooms. It wasn’t like Ty was going to use all of them.
“You’re surprisingly chill about this.”
“Yeah, well.” Ty gave a half-smile. “I might never have been in a combat zone, but I’ve had my share of nightmares after bad calls.” Especially in his first year on the job, when the pandemic had just started and everyone was either terrified or defiant. “If I’m around when you’re having a flashback or a nightmare, what’s the best way for me to deal with it?”
Ollie was already shaking his head. “Ty, no. It’s not for you to deal with, all right? I can handle myself.” And then his face got a pinched look, and he closed his eyes and added, “Just—if you can keep Theo distracted, keep me away from him. I don’t want him to see me like that.”
From the defeat in his voice, it had cost him a lot to ask for that. “Hey, no, Ollie, I wouldn’t have asked if I minded, okay? There’s a reason I became a paramedic. I’m not, like, trying to play hero or anything. It’s just, if I can help, I can’t…nothelp.”
