Page 33 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
I nod once. I’ll handle it.
The library’s one of the warmest rooms in the house. Low bookshelves, beanbags, big windows that catch the sun in the afternoon. It’s a soft space. Asafeone. Bailey made sure of that.
When I open the door, I find him curled up on the window bench, hugging a Star Wars plushie to his chest, staring down at a book he isn’t reading. He’s just looking at it.
“Hey, bud,” I say, stepping in quietly. “Room for one more?”
He doesn’t look at me. Just nods.
I sit at the far end of the bench, giving him space. Let the quiet settle between us like a blanket instead of a wall. Sometimes the best thing you can give someone is silence.
Eventually, Eli glances up. “Are you here to make me talk?”
“Nope,” I say, leaning back against the wall. “Just here in case you want to.”
He considers that. Then goes back to pretending to read. A long minute passes. Then Eli asks, without looking up, “Were you always big?”
I blink. “Big?”
“Like…grown-up. Strong.”
I hide a smile. “Nope. I was a string bean until I hit fifteen. Couldn’t lift a backpack without tipping over.”
He peeks up at me, just a little. “Did people make fun of you?”
“All the time. Especially my older brothers.”
“You have brothers?”
“Two,” I say. “Twice as annoying and half as smart as me.”
That gets the ghost of a smile. Eli shifts on the bench, adjusting his grip on the plushie. His voice drops a little. “My dad says I’ll never be a quarterback like him if I keep wearing glasses.”
My gut twists.
Eli keeps going, staring down at his hands now. “He said quarterbacks don’t read books all day. Said I should spend more time outside playing and less time with my nose in books. That it’s not…manly.” He says the last word like it tastes bad.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Do you like reading?”
He nods.
“Do you like being inside more than outside?”
Another nod.
“Do you like wearing glasses?”
He hesitates, then shrugs. “I like seeing.”
I nod. “Then that’s all that matters.”
He looks at me, eyes wide behind thick lenses. “But he said I won’t be like him if I keep being like me.”
I meet his gaze head-on. “Good.”
That stuns him.
“Your dad wants you to be like him. I want you to be likeyou.”
