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The screen showed the typed message in the top of the radar screen.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And if that didn’t already make you a hero, we have footage of you saving two small children from a lightning strike yesterday,” she said. “And not just them; you saved myself and my cameraman.”
The footage cut to a shaky view from Shane running up the steps, then panning back in time to see Jeremiah skid in the mud, collect the two kids, and race back before the lightning lit up and blew out the fence.
Ellis pointed at the TV. “Holy shit, dude, was that you?”
“Yes, that was him.” I went back to staring at Jeremiah. “You asked her to come speak to you? I’m sorry. But why?”
He shrugged. “Because I had something to say.”
I looked back at the TV, to the Jeremiah on screen. Lindsey was smiling at him in a way that made me want to poke her in the eye.
“This footage has gone viral,” she said. “What do you have to say to the people who are calling you a hero?”
On-screen Jeremiah looked right at the camera. “Nothing. I’m not a hero. I just had no other way to let my dad know I was okay. He’s in Melbourne. Dad, if you’re watching this, I’m fine and I’ll call you when the phone towers are back up.”
Then on-screen Jeremiah smiled at Lindsey and simply turned and walked back up to the office. Lindsey stood there with her microphone, not knowing what else to say.
I snorted out a laugh because that was funny as hell, but then I looked at Jeremiah next to me, and with a heavy sigh, I dropped my forehead to his shoulder. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t even think. Your dad must have been worried, and you... You must have been so...” I looked up at him. “And I didn’t even stop to think. I’m a terrible boyfriend. I’m so sorry.”
Jeremiah took my hand. “My father would have been mildly concerned at best. I just thought he might like to know, and when someone from Channel 4 came to collect the van, I told them to pass on a message to come interview me. They used me, so I used them. I think she was hoping for some exclusive scoop or whatever. But anyway, it doesn’t matter. Hopefully my father sees that.”
I still felt bad.
“I’m sure he was more than mildly concerned,” I offered. “But still, I’m sorry. We got home last night and crashed, then we were up and gone this morning. I barely had time to speak to you, and then I spent all afternoon sulking like a fucking child. I should have been more considerate.”
“You were,” he said.
“What? Considerate? Or sulking like a child?” I asked, then regretted it because I didn’t want to know. I already knew. “You don’t need to answer. I’m sorry.”
Jeremiah laughed and he nudged his knee to mine. When I met his gaze, his eyes were happy and soft. He was still holding the bird, which we still hadn’t named.
God.
“We should call him Hazer,” I suggested.
Jeremiah screwed his nose up, clearly not liking that suggestion.
“I can’t believe you skidded across that mud and collected those two kids like they do in the movies,” Ellis said, disbelief still clear on his face. “You wanna watch out. The Buffaloes will be looking to sign you up.”
Jeremiah squinted at him. “The buffaloes?”
“Football,” I offered.
“Oh.” He grimaced. “No thanks.”
I snorted. “What if we call him First,” I suggested as a bird name. “As in he was thefirsttime you almost died yesterday.”
He rolled his eyes, then looked at the little bird. “Naming something is a lot of responsibility.”
Ellis groaned. “For the love of god, you two. Mr Percival is right there.” He waved his hand at us. “I already called you the storm boys, so really, what other namecouldyou call it?”
My initial reaction was to tell him to sod off. And I wanted to hate the name suggestion, but I couldn’t. I looked at Jeremiah and he smiled.
“Mr Percival is kind of nice,” he said. “Well, it’s appropriate. Though he’s not a pelican.”
