Page 6 of Heart of a Hero

His mom had died several years ago after Benji’s mother died. Richard spent more time at his house helping with Benji, so he eventually sold the family home to move into a spare bedroom in Mark’s house. Now, he watched Benji when he got off the bus until Mark came home. Since Richard’s room was an en suite on the other side of the house, he had plenty of space to call his own.

“How was your day?” he asked.

Before he had a chance to answer, Benji immediately jumped in. “Did you catch any bad guys today, Dad?”

To a ten-year-old, Mark’s job was the greatest in the world. What little boy didn’t want to think that his dad was out fighting crime like a superhero every day?

As they walked into the house, he ruffled Benji’s hair. “I didn’t catch any bad guys today, Son.” Looking up at his dad, Mark replied, “It was a good day. I went by Brad’s and was able to check on Bess.”

“Thank goodness! I couldn’t believe it when you told me what had happened. Somehow, it seems that those Crowder girls always manage to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!”

“At least both of their stories ended well,” he said. God knows he’d seen plenty of dangerous situations as a police officer and deputy to know it was good when the victims came out okay.

As they walked into the kitchen, the smells from dinner reached him, and his mouth watered. “Dad, you spoil us. If you weren’t in our lives, I’d probably be boiling a hot dog or making a grilled cheese.”

Richard laughed as he patted his shoulder, moving past him into the kitchen. “You never have to thank me. Although it’s nice to be appreciated.”

Benji had run down the hall to wash his hands, and Mark reached into the cabinets to pull out the plates.

“You know,” Richard said, capturing his attention. “Your mother and I shared a lot of duties over the years. Some of them were very traditional. I usually took care of our vehicles and the yard, and she took care of the house and the cooking. Everything else, we divided up. When she died, I would’ve felt lost if I didn’t have you and Benji. Allowing me to be part of your lives means I get a chance to see my grandson grow and develop every day. So, believe me, sharing your home and your lives means the world to me.”

Mark set the plates on the counter, then walked over and clapped his dad on the shoulder. “I know you say that if Mom were still alive, you’d be caring for her. But that still doesn’t negate the fact that I’m grateful you’re here with Benji and me.”

Richard blinked, then shoulder-bumped him out of the way. “It’s time for dinner,” he playfully groused. They soon settled down to their meal with Benji, who entertained them with tales of fifth grade.

After dinner, Mark’s evening was much like most when he didn’t have to work. Instead of bath time, Benji now took showers since he considered that to be manly. Mark checked to ensure Benji’s homework was complete, his backpack was ready for the next day, and his teeth were brushed. After his son ran downstairs to hug his grandfather good night, he bounded back up with his childlike energy.

Benji climbed into bed, pulling out one of his favorite books to read before sleeping. Mark recognized the book from a series they had checked out from the library. He sat on the end of Benji’s bed, and they talked about the characters and Benji’s favorite parts of the story.

Then, standing, he bent over to wrap his arms around his son and hugged him while saying good night.

“I love you, Dad. You know that, right?” Benji asked, looking up at him.

“I love you, too. And yes, I know you love me.” Tilting his head to the side, he stared at Benji’s ten-year-old face filled with emotions Mark couldn’t put his finger on. “Is there something on your mind?”

Shaking his head, Benji shrugged. “No. It’s just that I was talking to Eddie Shackley today after school, and he mentioned how his real dad had gotten killed when he was a police officer. That was before he got his stepdad, Sam. It just got me thinking that I wanted you to know… just in case.”

It struck Mark that Benji was already moving into the preteen stage, even at ten, when emotions and thoughts were maturing. But for Mark, they sometimes came way too fast for him to be prepared.

Sitting back down beside Benji on his bed, he said, “I know you love me. And I love you too. And I won’t pretend that nothing bad will ever happen because you and I already know it can. But we can’t live each day being worried about what-ifs. We can make smart choices and smart decisions and hope each day goes better than the one before.”

He held his breath, uncertain if his words made sense, but then Benji's smile widened, and Mark's heart felt lighter. Hugging his son again, he stood and walked out the door, flipping the light off as he went.

He knew his son would read by the light on his nightstand until he got sleepy. He also knew that his son would sometimes read too late when he was engrossed in a story. Turning before he shut the door, he reminded, “Lights out in thirty minutes.”

Receiving affirmation, he closed the door and headed back downstairs.

Most of his evenings were very much like this one. Sometimes he and his dad would catch up on local gossip or the news. Other times, he’d sit in the living room reading or watching TV. Richard made sure to respect Mark’s privacy while also enjoying time by himself. And on those evenings, he turned in early.

Mark headed up the stairs. The house was now quiet except for the creaks of the old floors. He let the shower's warm water wash away the day’s tension, but thoughts of Karen moved to the forefront of his mind. Once in bed, he perched his reading glasses on his nose as he opened the book he’d left on his nightstand. But tonight, the words swirled together, and he finally gave up, placing the book back where he picked it up.He pulled off his glasses and put them on the nightstand, then sighed as he leaned back against the pillows. The truth was, he couldn’t get Karen off his mind.

Her features created a beautiful woman, and she seemed to radiate calm mixed with humor—and those warm brown eyes. When she looked at him, he felt like the only person in the room, as though her attention was a spotlight, and he was caught in its glow. The sensation had left him unsettled and wanting more, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, he sighed again. He had not been in a relationship since becoming a widower, and truthfully, the dates he’d gone on had left much to be desired. Sliding under the covers, he turned out the light, rolled over, and punched his pillow.

He chastised himself, letting out a low snort of disbelief. How ridiculous was it to be so consumed with thoughts of a woman he’d just met? It made no sense. Even though he told himself to let it go, he knew he didn’t really want to.

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