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Lilah’s brow furrowed, and she stepped close to Trace, lowering her voice. “Freddie Jones told Ben he was too small to ever play football like his brother and he should just give up now.” She tapped her fingers against her bicep.
“What?” Trace immediately wanted to protect Ben’s kind soul.
“Yep.” Lilah’s lips puckered. “Is it horrible that I wanted to throat punch a seven-year-old?”
Trace paused, caught between concern and a chuckle. “Not really. As long as you didn’t do it.” Lilah had the patience of a saint and rarely got mad. But she was clearly in mama-bear mode.
“I didn’t.” She thrummed her fingers again. “I adulted . . . and talked to Freddie’s mom. Even though I think she’s a few cards short of a full deck.”
Trace blew out a chuckle. “Adulting is the worst.”
“It is.” Lilah let her arms fall. She gave another sigh. “But now Ben’s really upset. On the drive home, he kept saying he’s too small. That he’s not big like Andy or Dad.” Lilah paused. Her eyes went glassy before she cleared her throat. “Nothing I said made him feel better.”
Trace’s chest clenched. “Would you like me to talk to him? I’m not sure I can do any better, but I can try.”
Lilah nodded. Her lips were a thin line. “Yes. Thank you. He might listen to you better on this one.”
While Trace assisted Andy in feeding the mares, Lilah finagled Sofie out of her car seat. Then they all walked to the house together. Once upstairs, Andy went to take a shower, Lilah carried Sofie to her crib, and Trace headed into the boys’ bedroom.
It was dark outside, but the room was cloaked in soft light from the Spiderman lamp on the dresser. Ben sat cross-legged near his pillows on the bottom bunk bed. His head was dipped, looking at the flashlight in his lap.His dad’s flashlight.
“Hey, buddy.” Trace crouched down and joined Ben on the bottom bunk. He shuffled across the comforter until his back was against the wall. “Your mom told me what happened.” Trace raised his arm, and Ben nestled into the crook of it, setting his head on Trace’s chest. The flashlight was wedged between them. “And I’m here to tell you what Freddie said isn’t true.”
“But . . .” Ben sniffled. “I am small.”
Trace’s heart squeezed. “You’re not small. You’re a growing boy. You’ve grown so much this year.” Ben didn’t reply, but Trace knew the boys regularly measured themselves and marked their heights on the closet door frame. “How much have you grown since Christmas? Tell me.”
“Two inches.” Ben’s reply was just above a whisper.
“See? That’s huge. Can you imagine how tall you’ll be in another year?”
Ben shrugged a shoulder against Trace’s side. “But the other boys at school are all bigger than me. I’m the littlest. I need to get a lot bigger to play football.”
“I watch you and your brother play football all the time. You’realreadyamazing.” Trace cradled Ben, wanting to put him in a bubble and protect him. “Besides, being big or small doesn’t determine what you can or can’t do. You can do anything you put your mind to. I promise you that.”
Ben’s fingers lightly scratched at Trace’s T-shirt. “Freddie made me feel bad.” The sniffles had stopped, but Ben’s voice was still timid.
“Do you remember what your dad said about his flashlight?” Trace asked, touching his finger to the black flashlight that lay between them. That question gained an instant head nod from Ben. “Your dad said to turn his flashlight on if you were ever scared in the dark. So you could see that there’s nothing to be scared of.”
Ben lifted his head from Trace’s chest and looked up at him. “Yeah, so I can see that I’m all right and nothing will hurt me.”
“And it makes you feel better, right?”
“Right.” Ben’s brown eyes blinked. He sniffled one more time and wiped at his nose with his arm.
“I think that applies to this moment too. Should we turn on your dad’s flashlight and see if it will make you feel better?”
A hint of hope crossed Ben’s face. “Yeah.” He picked up the flashlight and clicked it on, beaming a triangle of light into the bedroom. Ben scanned it around the room, brightening every corner.
“Are you feeling better now?” Trace asked hopefully.
Ben turned the flashlight toward Trace, lighting up his stomach and chest. “Yeah, I feel better.” Ben’s sweet smile returned, and he gave Trace a hug.
Trace wrapped both arms around Ben, breathing a silent sigh of relief. If he felt like this after one talk with the kid, what did Lilah feel like doing this day in and day out? As rewarding as it had to be at times, parenting must be the hardest job on the planet. It had to be like watching your heart run around outside of your body and doing everything you could to keep it safe.
“Good,” Trace said. “Because you deserve to be happy, always.”
Ben snuggled back into the crook of Trace’s arm and shone the flashlight out into the room once more. That’s when Trace noticed Lilah standing in the doorway. She was leaning against the frame, her head tilted. One hand lay over her heart.
