Page 18 of More Than a Hero
“In a roundabout way,” Pete admitted. “I graduated, joined the military, and thanks to Frank’s influence, I went through military police training. I liked the structure. I liked knowing the rules. Hell, I needed the rules. And it wasn’t hard to fall into a role where I helped others keep them, too.”
Angie let out a slow breath, shaking her head with admiration. “For a quiet man, you really know how to weave an amazing story that holds my rapt attention.”
Pete threw his head back and laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Yeah, well… I don’t know if I’ve ever told anybody all of this.”
Her brows lifted. “Really?”
He shifted, turning slightly so he was facing her more fully. “Really,” he confirmed. He hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t like talking about myself. But I like spending time with you, Angie. And eventually, if we keep seeing each other, some of these things would come out anyway.”
She studied him for a long moment, warmth settling in her chest. “So now you pay it forward, right?”
His brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”
She gestured toward him. “Frank and the grocer helped you when you were young and impressionable. It made a difference in your life. Hell, it probably made the difference between you ending up in jail and becoming the man you are now. And now you’re doing it for others.”
Pete was quiet for a beat, then let out a slow exhale. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess that’s right. I was already helping out with the American Legion and coaching the ball teams, but I started realizing we had some kids slipping through the cracks. Gangs have started creeping down from Baltimore, and there are a lot of young guys who are ripe for the picking.”
His fingers absently played with the label on his bottle, his expression unreadable. “One of the middle school teachers and I started meeting with some of them at the YMCA once a week. We help them work out, get some homework done, and just talk.” His jaw flexed. “I don’t kid myself into thinking I’ll get through to all of them. But if I can help some? Then it’s worth it.”
Angie’s throat tightened, emotion pressing against her ribs. “I think you’re amazing,” she murmured.
His gaze snapped to hers, sharp, searching.
“I mean it,” she continued, her voice steady. “I can’t remember the last time I was so fascinated… not just on a date, but just getting to know someone. I’m so glad you shared all of this with me.”
Pete nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Me too.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken. Something undeniable. She could feel it in the air, in the weight of his gaze, in the way his hand still lingered near hers. After a moment, she inhaled deeply, shifting slightly. “Do you still see your parents?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “My dad died while I was in the military,” he said, his voice measured. “I came home for the funeral, and my mom stayed drunk the entire time.”
Angie’s stomach twisted.
“She died a few years later,” he continued, exhaling sharply. “Liver disease. My dad had it, too. They drank their way into an early grave.”
She squeezed his hand, not knowing what to say, only wanting to offer something.
But Pete didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he tilted his head, his lips curving into something softer.
“What about Frank?” she asked.
A genuine grin spread across his face. “He’s in a retirement home in Virginia Beach. I try to see him at least once a month.”
Angie smiled widely, giving his hand a gentle shake. “Maybe next time you visit him, I can go too.”
Pete’s brows lifted slightly, as if the suggestion had caught him off guard.
She shrugged, smiling. “I’d love to meet the man who helped you become who you are.”
His expression shifted into something warm. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. “I can’t think of anything better.”
The space between them had shrunk without either of them acknowledging it. Pete’s arm rested along the back of the sofa, fingers grazing the ends of her hair as they sat facing each other. Their voices had quieted, the air between them charged with something unspoken.
Angie could feel her heart beating a little faster, her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. Pete had spent the last hour telling her things he hadn’t told many people. And she had hung on every word, drawn to the way he spoke, to the pieces of himself he had entrusted to her.
Now, he wasn’t speaking at all. Neither was she. But the silence felt alive.
Her gaze dipped to his mouth for half a second before she dragged it back up to meet his eyes. His dark, steady gaze told her he’d noticed.
