Page 2 of Love for Thea

Carole blinked, looking more confused by the data points than the bird. Ben, however, just leaned against the tree trunk watching Thea. He’d lived around the girl long enough to know her tells. When the twins were upset, they broke things; when Carole was upset, she cried. When Thea was upset, she started counting data points.

He didn’t think it was weird; he just thought it was the way Thea’s brain handled stress. It was consistent. And on a ranch with seven siblings and constant chaos, Ben appreciated anything that was consistent.

“You heard her, Carole. Thea’s got the facts.” Ben gave Thea a quick, easy nod, treating her like any other member of the crew. “Data says he goes back in the nest.”

He reached down, and Thea handed over the bird with a solemnity that made him feel like he was being handed a live grenade.

“We have to put him back,” Thea said, her dark eyes locking onto his. She didn’t ask him to do it; she just looked at him like he was the only person standing between the bird and the end of the world.

“Alright,” he said seriously, his voice dropping an octave. “Hand him over.”

Ben carefully tucked the bird into his shirt, climbed the oak tree, and settled the fledgling back into the nest. When he dropped back down, he saw Thea finally let go of her wrist, her shoulders dropping an inch.

“Done,” Ben said, looking to the girls for their approval.

“Thanks, Benji,” Carole breathed, her eyes bright with relief. She turned to Thea, looping an arm through her friend’s. “You’re staying for supper, right? Ma said she was making extra biscuits because it’s almost…umm you know.”

Carole didn’t finish the sentence, but the shadow of Ben’s departure fell over the group anyway. Thea didn’t answer Carole right away. She looked up at the high branches of the oak tree, then back at Ben, her gaze uncomfortably direct.

“You’re leaving soon,” Thea said. It wasn’t a question; it was another fact she had cataloged.

“Two weeks,” Ben nodded.

“To go be a soldier. To save people.”

“A SEAL,” he corrected gently.

Thea nodded slowly, her mind seeming to weigh the new title against the boy she had known her whole life. “You’re good at saving things,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice devoid of the usual teenage teasing. “Data point: your success rate with the livestock and the local wildlife is statistically significant. So you’ll probably be good at that, too.”

Ben felt a strange, unexpected lump in his throat. He’d heard plenty of “Oorahs” and proud speeches from this dad and the twins, but there was something about Thea’s clinical assessment that made it feel more real. To her, his success wasn’t a hope; it was a calculation.

“Thanks, Thea,” Ben said, giving her a small, lopsided smile. “I’ll try not to mess up the percentages.”

Suddenly, Ronald Adams’ booming voice called out across the yard, “Kids! Supper!”

Ben blinked, startled by how late it had grown. The sun was dipping low, shadows stretching across the yard. Time had slipped away while they’d been distracted. He muttered under his breath, “Hopefully everyone finished their chores.”

The call to supper drew the family inside, where the kitchen buzzed with the clatter of plates and eager shouts. Ronald took his seat at the head of the long oak table, waiting as the eight children and Thea settled in. Ben slid into his usual spot beside Wyatt, while across from them, Mace made a stealthy grab for a biscuit.

“Negative, Mace,” Logan hissed, swatting at his twin’s hand. “That’s not optimal infiltration! You need a diversion first!”

“My stomach’s on a recon mission!” Mace retorted, a crumb already clinging to his chin.

Ben chuckled, watching the twins’ antics amid the clatter of plates, the scraping of forks, and the occasional burst of laughter filling the warm kitchen. Ever since he’d signed his enlistment papers, the twins had traded “cowboys and Indians” for military manuals and tactical lingo. They were obsessed with the vocabulary of his future, as if speaking the language would bring them closer to the world he was about to enter.

Ronald raised a single eyebrow: that was “the look.” Mace immediately dropped the biscuit, mumbling an apology.

“Zara, Sophie, sit still,” Ronald addressed the five-year-old twins whose fingers fidgeted with napkins and whose eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Who can tell me what we saw in the garden today? What were the bees doing?”

“They were dancing!” Sophie giggled, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air. “On the big yellow flowers!”

“They’re making honey,” Zara added importantly, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “But they’re fuzzy. I want to pet one.”

“Don’t pet the bees, Zara,” Ronald laughed, the rich scent of fresh bread and stew weaving through the air.

Then he turned to Thea. “And you, Thea? I saw you out by the creek with your notebook. What was the verdict on the water levels?”

Thea’s face flushed. Immediately, her hand slipped beneath the table, pressing her index and middle fingers into the pulse point of her opposite wrist as she gathered her thoughts. Ben noticed the small, hidden movement but said nothing.