Page 14 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

“You have?” She sounds skeptical.

I nod. “In the military. Some guys thought I didn’t belong because I came from a different background. They underestimated me.”

“What did you do?”

“I proved them wrong. Every day, in every way I could.” I lean in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “And sometimes, I imagined their heads exploding when I outperformed them.”

Ashanti giggles, a sound that lightens something in my chest.

“But you know what?” I continue. “The most important thing was knowing who I was and what I was capable of. Their opinions didn’t change that.”

She nods slowly, considering my words. “Mamma says, ‘Do you baby girl and let them choke on your dust.’”

“Your mom sounds pretty smart.”

“She is,” Ashanti says, a hint of pride in her voice. Then her face falls. “But it’s still hard sometimes.”

I understand that feeling all too well. The weight of expectations, the struggle to fit in. It’s a battle I’m still fighting.

“I get it,” I say. “It’s not easy. But you’re tougher than they are, Ashanti. I can see that already.”

She smiles, a small but genuine expression. “Thanks, Mr. Shane.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment. Then, an idea strikes me.

“Hey, want me to show you a few self-defense moves? Might come in handy if those boys try anything again.”

Ashanti’s eyes light up. “Really? You’d do that?”

I stand, offering her my hand. “Absolutely. Come on, I’ll teach you how to break a hold.”

For the next half hour, I guide Ashanti through basic self-defense techniques. She’s a quick learner, her earlier sadness replaced by determination.

“That’s it,” I encourage as she successfully breaks my grip on her wrist. “Use their momentum against them.”

Ashanti grins, flushed with success. “This is awesome! Can we do more?”

“Sure, but let’s take a break first. You’re wearing me out.” I laugh. “Are all the kids like them?”

Ashanti shakes her head. “I have a best friend. Her name is Hailey.”

“That’s good.”

We sit back down on the bench, both of us catching our breath.

“Mr. Shane?” Ashanti says after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The question catches me off guard. I consider my answer carefully.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” I say finally. “And because I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider.”

Ashanti looks at me, her expression serious beyond her years. “Even grown-ups feel that way?”

I nod. “Even grown-ups. Sometimes, especially grown-ups.”

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