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“That sounded rough,” he said quietly. “Are you alright?”
Jane let out a shaky breath, pressing her palms to burning eyes. “I don’t know how to take away his pain.”
“Because you can’t.” Strong hands grasped her shoulders. She looked up into Bridger’s earnest face. “He’s a great kid, he’ll heal. People do.” His voice resonated with quiet conviction. “The Lord doesn’t give us more than we can bear. He’ll see the boy through this. You, too.”
Comfort washed over her, blunting the sharp ache in her heart. Bridger was right. Faith would guide Kellen through this. He would survive. No. Not just survive. He’d thrive if she had anything to say about it.
“Thank you.” She covered his hand with hers. “I needed to hear that.”
The hint of a smile touched his lips. “Anytime.” He hitched a thumb at the door. “Maybe I should give it a go. Man-to-man kind of deal. Might help.”
“Please.” It couldn’t hurt. Kellen had only known Bridger a few hours, but he clearly thought the world of the former SEAL.
Jane peeked over Bridger’s shoulder as he swung the door back open. Kellen was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast.
She moved out of sight and hugged herself hard, letting the deep murmur of Bridger’s voice calm her.
From outside the room, she caught snatches of their conversation. Or more correctly, Bridger’s monologue.
“...know it’s hard to accept...”
“...doesn’t mean he didn’t love you...”
“...when you’re ready to talk...”
“Leave me alone!” Kellen yelled. The first words out of him since Bridger had gone inside.
Bridger exited the bedroom, shaking his head. The door slammed shut behind him.
He shrugged helplessly. “That did not go well.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For trying.”
They wandered down the hallway, out of earshot.
“Of course. I heard what he said, about Pete not being his father.” His brow furrowed. “Any idea what that’s about?”
“No clue. Pete wasn’t father of the year, for sure, but Kellen’s reaction...it really threw me. I’m not sure how to get through to him.”
“Trauma can do strange things. Maybe his mind is trying to protect itself by denying the truth.”
Jane took a deep breath. “I need to get him some professional help. A therapist, someone who specializes in childhood trauma and grief counseling.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Having an objective third party could make it easier for him to open up.”
Her gaze travelled down the empty hallway. “Probably best if we give him some time to calm down.”
Bridger followed her into the main living area. Paige sat curled up on the living room sofa, laptop open on her knees, fingers clacking rapidly over the keys. Fenn lounged in an armchair, long legs stretched out, tossing a tennis ball idly up and down.
They both looked up as Jane and Bridger entered.
Paige tilted her head in the direction of Kellen’s bedroom. “How’d it go?”
Jane sighed, perching on the edge of the coffee table. “Not great. He got really upset, insisted Pete isn’t his father.”
Fenn sat up straighter, frowning. “He said Pete isn’t his dad? That makes no sense.”
“I know,” Jane said. “I’m completely blindsided.”
