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“I mean my dad,” Kellen corrected himself, playing with the hem of his shirt, his face suddenly serious.
Jane’s heart hitched. He hadn’t mentioned Pete since they snatched him out of that motel. It was a stark reminder of the complex web of emotions they were navigating, and she couldn’t help but worry about the uncertainty clouding their future.
“Your dad has his own kind of cool tricks, Kel,” Tai offered, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, not everyone needs to be a superhero.”
Kellen nodded, though his ambivalence still hung in the air. The room lapsed into silence, punctuated only by the clink of silverware against plates and the whisper of the wind outside.
“Jane’s a photographer,” Kellen announced between bites. “That’s kinda cool.”
The team eyed her with interest. Her cheeks warmed at the unaccustomed attention. She waved her fork in a dismissive gesture. “It’s just a hobby.”
“I’ve seen your work. Could be a lot more,” Bridger insisted, drawing a nod from Kellen.
“She’s super good,” Kellen added. “I think lots of people would buy your pictures. They’d probably pay you like a hundred bucks.”
She didn’t know whether to hug the little angel, or cry. All this time, she’d agonized about how much he must hate her…
The Lord truly was guiding her life.
Obviously exhausted now, Kellen picked at his untouched salad. He needed greens, but Jane was not about to push him tonight, of all nights.
Eyes on Jane, Bridger held up a forkful of salad, chewing with obvious delight.
Kellen’s eyes widened. He looked at his plate, then Bridger, then the plate again. “Do you like salad?”
Bridger made a face. “I’m not gonna lie. When I was your age, I hated the stuff. But once I got into SEAL training, I noticed that the strongest, baddest dudes there chowed down their veggies. I figured if it was good for them, veggies would be good for me. Still hate Brussel sprouts, though. Yuck.”
Kellen grimaced. “Seriously yuck.” He stared at the innocent greens, clearly skeptical, despite his hero’s words.
Tai planted his huge forearms on the table. “Ever heard of Popeye?”
“Who?”
“He’s kinda of like an old-school Captain America,” Fenn explained. “Only he was a sailor.”
Kellen was all ears now. “Was he tough?”
Tai bent an arm, showing off an immense bicep. “Tougher than me.”
“And he ate salad?”
“Only when he wanted to rumble with the bad guys,” Bridger added.
Kellen considered that for a second, forked up a tiny bite of romaine and nibbled at the edges. Then another. While the team watched, hiding smiles, he finally put an entire forkful in his mouth, chewing with gusto.
Bridger winked at her. She tried to smile back, but her lips wouldn’t quite cooperate. They were trembling too hard. She quickly dashed the tears from her eyes, not wanting Kellen––or the others––to see how touched she was.
This was the kind of family Kellen deserved. Men and women dedicated to the Lord, and to humanity.
Once Kellen’s plate was clean, Jane caught his attention. “Time for bed.”
“Alright...” Kellen agreed reluctantly.
“Hang on,” Tai ordered, jumping up from the table. He ran down the hall, returning with one of his tech tees in hand. He tossed it to Kellen. “Take this. It’ll be a little big for a while, but if you keep eating healthy, you’re gonna bust straight out of that shirt you got on now in like a week.”
Kellen caught the oversized tee, hugging it to his chest and surreptitiously, squeezing his own tiny biceps. Jane had to turn a way to hide a smile.
“Sleep well, dude.” Bridger’s voice was warm, tinged with the same mix of relief and affection Jane felt.
