Page 64 of More Than a Hero
“For me, this is a special treat.”
The others smiled, likely assuming he was just referring to the fact that he was a bachelor. But as Pete caught Angie’s gaze,he knew she understood the truth. He’d never had this growing up. He’d never sat at a table where laughter flowed easily and where the conversation was light and teasing instead of harsh and cutting. This wasn’t just dinner. This was home.
By the time dessert had been served, Pete felt more at ease than he’d expected. The easy conversation flowed around him, blending playful banter with more thoughtful discussions. The meal had been simple, nothing extravagant, but it was warm, satisfying, and real.
And no one had pushed him into an interrogation.
Not until Bob, who had been listening quietly, set down his fork and turned toward him with a thoughtful expression.
“We know you work with Angie on the Adopt-a-Grandparent program,” he said. “I believe she mentioned that you were already mentoring young people before that. That’s very admirable, Pete. Can I ask how you got into it?”
Pete hesitated, his mind racing for the right response. He could have kept it vague by offering a standard, polished reply that wouldn’t reveal too much. That was what he usually did. It was easier that way. But then his gaze flicked to Angie.
She was watching him, her head tilting ever so slightly. And though her smile was soft, she gave the smallest shake of her head, sending a silent message.You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.
But looking around the table at her family—their open, expectant faces, not judging, just waiting—he realized something. He wanted to tell them.
Because if he and Angie were going to move forward, if they were going to keep building something real, they deserved to know the truth about him. And he wasn’t going to pretend that one day, he’d be bringing her home to his family for a meal like this. That would never happen.
Clearing his throat, he finally spoke. “My family wasn’t like yours,” he admitted, his voice steady but low. “We didn’t have pleasant meals where everyone talked about their day or debated interesting topics. We didn’t havethis.” He gestured vaguely around the table, at the warmth, the easy camaraderie, the love that practically radiated from every interaction.
A quiet hush fell over the room.
“My parents were both alcoholics,” he continued. “And I’m not sure they ever cared for each other very much.”
Roseann let out a soft gasp, her face crumpling slightly in sympathy. “Oh, Pete,” she murmured. “Please don’t feel like you have to explain anything to us.”
He glanced around the table, bracing himself for the usual shift—the pity, the discomfort. But what he saw instead was acceptance. No one looked at him like he was damaged. No one averted their eyes as if embarrassed for him. Instead, there was quiet understanding. Empathy.
He exhaled slowly, feeling a bit lighter. “I don’t feel like I have to,” he said finally, looking at Roseann. Then he shifted his gaze to Angie, the warmth in her expression settling something deep in his chest. “But I care about your daughter a great deal. And if she and I continue the way I hope we are, I don’t see a reason to hide anything.”
Angie reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. She shifted just enough that her body pressed against his, solid and reassuring.
He squeezed her hand once before continuing. “I’ll be honest—I got into some trouble when I was younger. Early teens. I was headed down a bad path, and I could’ve easily ended up in juvie, or worse.” He exhaled sharply, rubbing a thumb along the back of Angie’s hand. “But I was lucky. A store owner and a local police officer gave me a second chance.”
Bob leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable.
Pete glanced at him before continuing. “They didn’t have to, but instead of getting me locked up, they let me work off what I’d done. The store owner gave me a job, and the cop… he became a mentor. Probably the first real male role model I ever had.” His throat tightened for a moment, but he pushed forward. “Because of them, I stayed out of trouble. I graduated, joined the military, and eventually became a detective. Now, I work with the Drug Task Force because it’s what I’m passionate about.”
A small squeeze from Angie’s hand made him look toward her. Her eyes were shining, filled with something deep and unwavering. He didn’t know if it was admiration or understanding—or maybe both—but it calmed the last bit of nervous energy in his chest.
When he glanced back at her parents and grandparents, he saw nothing but quiet approval.
“I never had a grand plan to mentor young people,” he admitted. “But one day, I saw some kids… and I recognized them. They were like me at that age… angry, reckless, looking for something, anything to hold on to. With the help of one of the teachers at the middle school, we put together a program. We work with ten young men. We meet at the YMCA. Sometimes just to let them work out, other times to go over homework. But mostly, we just talk. About life. About the things no one else might be telling them.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing formal. But I figure… maybe it’ll make a difference.”
A beat of silence passed.
Roseann smiled, her voice warm when she finally spoke. “I think that sounds amazing.”
Pete glanced back at Angie, and the pride in her expression made something tighten in his chest.
He smirked slightly. “Well, I think what your daughter does is amazing, too. That Adopt-a-Grandparent program fills such a need for the kids.”
Roseann’s smile widened. “It does. But so does your work, Pete. And we’re grateful for people like you who take the time to see those kids.”
Pete nodded, his throat feeling oddly tight. He wasn’t used to people genuinely caring about the things he did. But maybe, just maybe… he could get used to it.
Angie gave his hand another squeeze, and when he turned to look at her, she was already smiling. And that made everything feel a little bit lighter.
