Page 135 of Through the Flames
But Ella laughed softly from across the table, like she already knew the truth: no one here was judging me.
They were just pulling me further in.
Her mom leaned forward, eyes bright. “So, Hunter, how was it playing with Dom? He’s quite the character, isn’t he?”
I stiffened. Dom was loud and full of energy, the exact opposite of me. “Uh … yeah. He’s … energetic,” I said carefully, my voice clipped.
Her dad chuckled. “That’s one way to put it. Did he drive you crazy?”
I swallowed, trying not to wince. “Sometimes. But he’s a good teammate.”
Her mom tilted her head, studying me, but her smile was warm, not interrogative. “And the draft! We heard congratulations are in order. How does it feel to be picked?”
I blinked, caught off guard. The words felt enormous in the quiet moment. “It … it’s good,” I said finally. “Exciting. Nerve-wracking.”
Ella squeezed my knee under the table, a small, grounding gesture.
“See? You’re fine,” she whispered.
I forced air into my lungs, unclenched my jaw, and took a tentative bite. Ella’s dad leaned in, grinning. “You’ll have to tell us all about the Combine stories someday. I bet you’ve got some crazy ones.”
I nodded, my words caught somewhere between awe and nerves. The room felt heavy with attention, but with Ella there, her hand quietly reassuring me, I didn’t completely crumble.
Her mom laughed again, just lightly, not mocking, and asked, “Tell me, Hunter, do you actually like playing with her little brother, or are you just being polite?”
I swallowed, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth despite myself. “He’s a handful. But yeah, he’s good.”
Ella’s small laugh beside me was enough to steady me. For the first time at the table, I let a little of myself show, just enough to feel human.
Slowly, the warmth seeped back in.
Darlene piling food onto my plate, telling me I looked too thin. Her dad asking about the Combine, about drills and scouts. The little cousin tugging at my sleeve, begging me to throw the ball with him in the yard after dinner.
And Ella, beside me, laughing louder than anyone, her hand brushing mine whenever she passed me something.
Every touch was subtle but deliberate. Her way of saying,You’re mine. I’m yours.
For once, I didn’t feel like an outsider.
After dinner, when the table was cleared, Darlene shooed Ella and Ray toward the living room with a drawled, “Go on now, I’ll keep Hunter to help me in the kitchen.”
I froze, unsure if this was a punishment or some kind of test. But Ella squeezed my wrist, eyes saying,It’s okay, before disappearing down the hall.
Darlene filled the sink, rolled up her sleeves, and handed me a dish towel. “You dry, I’ll wash.” Her tone wasn’t bossy, more matter-of-fact, like I already belonged here.
For a while, the only sounds were the clink of dishes and the rush of warm water. I didn’t know how to fill the silence, but she did.
“You know,” she said softly, eyes on the plate in her hands, “Ella’s always been able to spot people worth fighting for. She got that from me.”
My throat closed. I stared at the towel in my hands like it held answers.
“You’re not broken, Hunter,” she added in a low but steady voice. “You’re just carrying more than most boys your age, and I want you to know—” She turned then, suds dripping down her wrists and her eyes shining. “We’re real glad you’re here. We want you here.”
The words gutted me. My chest ached like she’d reached right in and rewired something. This wasn’t pity or judgment, but a warm, genuine kind of acceptance.
I swallowed hard and blinked fast, but my voice still cracked when I said, “Thank you.”
Darlene didn’t press. She just bumped my shoulder lightly with hers and handed me another plate. “Now, you better get used to it, sugar. ’Cause around here, you’re family.”
