Page 34 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
“But he says I’ll get picked on.”
I sit back. “Eli, let me tell you something. The people who get picked on? The nerds, the bookworms, the kids who see the world a little differently? They’re the ones who grow up torunit.”
He blinks. “Really?”
“Really. You know Wesley?”
He nods fast.
“Biggest nerd I know. He built a business with a laptop and too much caffeine. Now we all work forhim.” Not entirely the truth, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Eli snorts. “Wesley’s not a nerd.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Have youseenhis video game setup?”
He laughs. “No.”
“You know what else?” I ask, pulling the contacts case from my pocket to gesture to it. “I wear contacts.”
Eli squints. “You do?”
“Yup. Have since I was seventeen. I can’t see anything past ten feet without ’em. Total blur.”
“Really?”
“Really. Glasses, contacts, whatever—it’s just gear. It doesn’t change who you are. It’s no different than wearing a helmet when you ride your bike or sneakers when you run.”
He’s quiet for a second. Then, softly, “What if I want to play football one day?”
“Then we’ll get you the best glasses in the world—or a killer pair of contacts—and you’ll play like a champ.”
Eli smiles. Just a little. But it’s enough. He slides his glasses higher on his nose. “You think it’s okay to like both? Reading and football?”
“I think it’s more than okay. I think it’ssmart.If you want to be a good quarterback, you have to learn about strategy and leadership. That usually requires books.”
He leans back against the window. “But it’s not what Dad wants.”
“Maybe not,” I say. “But your job isn’t to be whathewants. It’s to be whoyouare.”
He watches me carefully, like he’s not used to hearing that. His little brow furrows, trying to solve the disconnect I just threw at him.
Hell, I remember being that kid. The one trying to meet someone else’s idea of strength. Trying to act right. Be useful. Fit into a frame that didn’t match my shape. It doesn’t matter how hard you try—it neverfeelsright. Until someone shows you that you don’t have to break yourself to be worth something.
“You know what I think makes someone a real man?” I ask him.
Eli’s brows rise just a little.
“Someone who knows what he loves and protects it.”
He nods like that makes sense. “That’s what you guys do.”
“Exactly.”
We sit there for a moment longer, not talking.
Then he grins. “Can I get contacts?”
“With your mom’s permission. We’ll make it a whole mission. Operation: Secret Eyes.”
