Page 20 of More Than a Hero (Baytown Heroes #12)

The bright fluorescent lights of SuperMart gleamed down on the wide aisles, reflecting off polished tile floors that had seen countless shopping carts roll over them.

The store was packed with towering shelves stacked with everything from cereal to camping gear, and the distant hum of checkout beeps created a background rhythm to the Saturday afternoon chaos.

“No, no. It’s not in the baking section. It’s going to be where the toothpaste is,” Marty said.

“But if it’s like a toothpick, it’s gonna be with the cake mixes,” Jimmy countered. “I know that because I’ve been with my mom when she got toothpicks.” Jimmy’s voice held the certainty of someone who had navigated these aisles before.

“It’s like a toothpick, but not a toothpick,” Marty said, rubbing his chin as if that might help him remember more details.

Jimmy sighed, shifting his weight. “Okay, Mr. Marty, can you just tell me what it looks like?”

“It’s blue. Well, sometimes it’s green. Or, uh… kind of bluish-green. I think I’ve even seen ’em in white.”

Jimmy’s brows drew together. “Okay, let’s forget about the color. Is it the shape of a toothpick?”

“Not really. But it does have a sharp point. Only on one end.”

Marty squinted, scanning the store. “I tell you what. I think we can find it together if you just help me get to where the toothpaste is.”

“You got it, Mr. Marty.”

The two set off down the gleaming aisle, weaving through displays of brightly packaged mouthwashes and toothbrush multipacks. After a thorough search, Jimmy finally plucked a bag of floss picks from the shelf, holding them up like a game show prize. “This it?” he asked, his eyebrows arched.

“That’s it!” Marty declared triumphantly, a grin splitting his wrinkled face.

Jimmy stared at the package in disbelief, then gave a slow nod. “Well… I’m glad we found ’em.”

The pair strolled off, heading toward the next item on the list, leaving Angie watching with a smirk.

From everything she’d seen so far, the kids had more patience than some adults, and the adopted grandparents weren’t just shopping for themselves—they were making sure the kids got things they liked too.

Curious, she drifted toward the men’s clothing section, where she spotted another unlikely duo deep in a debate.

“I need the large,” Harold said, squinting at a package of undershirts.

Caleb, arms crossed, gave him a skeptical once-over. “Mr. Harold, you ain’t that big.”

Harold frowned. “What do you mean, I ain’t that big? I’ve always bought large.”

Caleb flipped the package over and pointed at the sizing chart. “According to this, I think you’d only be a medium.”

“But I always wear a large,” Harold insisted.

Kryon raised an eyebrow, first looking at Caleb, then back at Harold. “You tryna look like you’re from the hood?”

Harold’s forehead creased, adding extra depth to the wrinkles already there. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s just a look, you know?” Kryon shrugged. “Big oversized white T-shirts? That’s what some guys wear on purpose.”

Harold’s lips pressed into a thin line as he processed this revelation. With an exaggerated scowl, he shook his head. “I’m not trying to look like anything. I just want my shirts to fit.”

Caleb stood next to Harold, still holding the package of undershirts as if he were trying to understand the older man's reasoning. “Can you tell me why?”

Harold frowned and gave a halfhearted shrug. “It’s just easier.”

“Easier?” Caleb tilted his head. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Harold.”

Harold let out a slow breath, as if deciding how much to say. “My arms and shoulders don’t work as good as they used to. If the T-shirt’s too tight, it’s hard to pull over my head and get my arms through. But if it’s a little bigger, I got more room to move, and I can usually get it on by myself.”

Caleb stilled, glancing between Harold, Kyron, and the undershirts in his hands.

After a beat, he nodded. “Well… okay. I think that makes sense. I never thought about it, but you’re right.

” Without hesitation, he tossed the package of large T-shirts into their shopping cart.

Then, with an easy grin, he patted Harold on the shoulder. “What’s next?”

Harold gave a small, appreciative smile and nudged the cart forward. “Something on the list about socks, I think.”

A few aisles away, Angie had slipped out of sight behind a display of neatly folded jeans, pressing her fingers to her eyes in an effort to keep a tear from falling.

She had expected the outing to be productive, maybe even enjoyable.

But she hadn’t expected moments like this.

Moments when her clients weren’t just picking out things they needed but also opening up and sharing things they might not have said otherwise.

A warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she jumped, spinning around.

Pete stood there, brows drawn together in concern. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, not at all. This is going so much better than I imagined. My clients are opening up. They're telling the kids about things they need or things that bother them. And your kids…” Her voice wavered, but she smiled. “Your kids are amazing.”

His frown softened into a grin, and without a word, he cupped her face, brushing his thumb under her eye in a gentle swipe. Then, before she could say anything else, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

“I’m heading to the food section,” he murmured. “Gotta keep an eye on whoever’s already there. No tellin’ what they’ll throw in the cart.”

Angie chuckled, shaking her head as he walked off. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Curly and Mike standing near the women’s clothing section with Ms. Rosetta. Intrigued, she slipped around the next aisle to listen in.

“Why are you getting the dark blue one?” Curly asked, nodding toward the shirt in Ms. Rosetta’s hands.

“Because it’s nice,” she replied, smoothing the fabric between her fingers.

“Yeah, but you looked at the yellow one first.” He pointed at the bright, cheerful fabric hanging on the rack. “That one’s real pretty. Like a happy color.”

Rosetta hesitated. “Yes, but I don’t know if it’s right for me.”

Mike squinted. “You said yellow was your favorite color.”

She nodded, then sighed. “I did. But I don’t want to look like Big Bird in it.”

Mike blinked and looked at Curly before turning his attention back to Rosetta. “Big Bird?”

“From Sesame Street . The great big yellow bird.”

Curly snorted, shaking his head. “Man, life’s too short for you not to get what you want, Ms. Rosetta.”

She froze, blinking at the unexpected wisdom in his words. Her gaze flickered between the dark blue shirt and the bright yellow one, a small, thoughtful frown settling on her face.

Angie watched from a distance, biting back a grin. It seemed today wasn’t just about shopping. It was about realizing what truly mattered, one aisle at a time.

Curly tilted his head and gave her an expectant look. “Let’s ask Mr. George.” Without waiting for a response, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Hey, Mr. George! Which shirt do you think Ms. Rosetta should get?”

Rasheem, who had been helping push George’s wheelchair, steered him closer to where Curly, Mike, and Rosetta stood by the racks of women’s tops.

George, sharp-eyed despite his years, took one glance at the shirts and grinned. “The yellow one.”

Rosetta’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “You think so?”

He nodded, his grin widening. “Daffodils are my favorite color, and Ms. Rosetta, you’d look like a beautiful daffodil if you wore that.”

The boys shared a look before breaking into identical wide grins, while Ms. Rosetta’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink.

“Well then,” she murmured, reaching out and plucking the yellow shirt from the rack. “I suppose I’ll take it.”

Curly pumped a fist. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

Angie watched the scene unfold from a short distance away, her heart swelling. This trip had been about shopping, but more than that, it had been about connections. Moments like this, where a compliment could brighten someone’s day or a simple gesture could make all the difference.

As planned, they had saved the grocery section for last. Angie had always intended it that way, but she was pleasantly surprised when Caleb had suggested the same thing the moment they’d entered the store.

She, Pete, and Richard wandered up and down the food aisles, answering questions, offering suggestions, and making sure everything was running smoothly. Truthfully, though, Angie knew she could have left the kids and their adopted grandparents completely alone, and they would have been just fine.

At checkout, the kids quickly took over the bagging, making sure to thank the elders for the little things they had bought for them.

Once the carts were emptied, the bags packed up, and the receipts tucked away, they all made their way outside. The kids helped load everything into the two ESAAA vans, making sure nothing got left behind. Then it was time for goodbyes.

The elders climbed into one large van, chatting among themselves, already making plans for what they’d do with their purchases. The kids piled into the other, still riding the high of a successful shopping trip.

Richard and Pete were tasked with dropping the kids off at their homes before returning to Angie’s office, where their personal vehicles were parked.

Angie turned to say goodbye to Pete, but before she could get the words out, she noticed that his attention was locked onto something across the parking lot.

She followed his gaze to the side of the supermarket, where a small group of young men lounged against the brick wall, cigarettes dangling from their fingers. They weren’t just hanging out. Dressed in their red and black, they were watching the van full of their kids.

A chill ran down Angie’s spine. She stepped closer to Pete and murmured, “Are you okay?”

Pete jerked slightly, as if snapping out of a trance. When he turned to face her, his expression was carefully neutral, but his eyes were dark with something unreadable.

He forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you back at your office, okay?”

Angie hesitated. Something was off, but she knew pushing him for answers right now wasn’t the right move. Instead, she reached out, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing gently.

“Absolutely,” she said with a small smile. “I’ll be there.”

As Pete turned toward the vans, his body tensed with something unspoken. Angie couldn’t shake the feeling that the lighthearted joy of the afternoon had just shifted into something far more serious. And whatever it was, Pete knew what it was.