Page 42 of More Than a Hero (Baytown Heroes #12)

Angie sat at her desk, poring over the ESAAA budget, wondering how to squeeze blood from a stone when her phone buzzed. It was buried on her desk, but she shuffled some papers around to find it. She glanced at the screen and grinned, seeing Pete’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” she said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she leaned back in her chair, feeling her hips ache in protest.

“Angie, I hate to do this, but I have to work late. There’s no way I can get to the Y in time to work with the kids.” Pete’s voice was laced with frustration, and she heard people talking in the background.

Angie straightened and shook her head with a small smile. “Are you okay? Is something happening?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Pete said, his voice low but steady in her ear, a slight tension just beneath it. “But there’s been an incident up near the north end of Accawmacke, close to the state line. Jeremy and I are dealing with it.”

Angie heard what he wasn’t saying just as clearly as what he did. She already recognized the tone. He was giving her as much as he could, without crossing lines he’d drawn to protect both his work and her peace of mind. She respected that.

She leaned back in her chair, cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek. “What do you want to do about tonight?”

He sighed, then said, “I can message the boys. Let them know we’ll have to cancel.”

“Do you think they’d mind doing chair yoga instead?”

There was a brief pause, and then his chuckle warmed her chest. “No, not at all. They’d probably get a kick out of it, especially if they’re with the adoptive grandparents. That crew knows how to make anything fun.”

She smiled, imagining the boys sprawled out with exaggerated poses, the older folks egging them on with lighthearted competitiveness and laughter.

“I’ll still pick up my group for the Y. I can take one of the bigger ESAAA vans, then swing by for the boys, too.

If they’re game for chair yoga, I’ll give them their usual hangout time at the YMCA, then drive everyone home. ”

Pete exhaled slowly on the other end of the line, the sound curling into her like a tender hesitation. “Do you think that’ll be too much on you?”

She softened her voice, lacing it with just enough tease to draw him back from worry. “Too much? You forget who you’re talking to? I’ve already wrangled my crew into a van. What’s a few more kids? They’re good boys. They’ll fall in line.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she said firmly. “They’ll love it. And the grandparents will get such a kick out of having them in the class.”

He chuckled again, the sound a little more relaxed this time. “Chair yoga? Wish I could see that.”

She could imagine his amused brow lift through the phone. “Oh, they’ll go for it,” she replied confidently. “And if I know the kids, they’ll make a competition out of it before the first leg lift.”

Pete let out another sigh, softer now, a trace of warmth behind it. “If you’re sure… I just don’t want you overdoing it.”

“I won’t. Honestly,” she added, voice dropping into something more sincere, “I think I need it, too.”

There was a pause. “Are you okay? Are you hurting?”

Her chest tightened with something sweet. There had been a time when hearing someone questioning her pain level would have made her feel exposed. She hated feeling vulnerable. But not with Pete. Her RA was part of her reality, but so was he. And his concern didn’t weigh her down. It held her up.

“No worse than usual,” she admitted. “But I’ve been stuck in my office chair for hours. My body’s reminding me that I need to move. And hydrate.”

“You do,” he said gently. “So drink some water. Stretch a little. Be kind to yourself, sweetheart.”

She smiled, touched by the tenderness threading through his voice. “I will. I promise.”

There was a moment when neither of them spoke, as they shared a breath across the distance. Then he sighed again, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Thanks, Angie. I owe you.”

She leaned her head back, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You do,” she teased. “But I’ll let you make it up to me later.”

“If I make it back in time, I’ll come to the Y. Meet you there.”

She heard the lingering uncertainty. “No worries,” she said, with quiet confidence. “I have it all covered. And I can swing by and feed Queenie, too. You just take care of you.”

“You do the same, babe.” His voice had a little gravel in it now, that edge she loved. “And thank you.”

After they disconnected, Angie couldn’t stop the soft and lingering smile that bloomed across her face. She already missed the idea of seeing Pete tonight, but at the same time, there was a quiet contentment in knowing where they stood.

They hadn’t made a big declaration. They didn’t need to.

Somehow, they’d just become a couple. One day, she was teasing him over coffee, then the next day, they were texting good night like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now, even if he wasn’t beside her, he was with her.

The thought stayed in her mind all through the afternoon, making even the drudgery of budget reports and expense columns feel bearable.

By the time she waved goodbye to her staff in the late afternoon sunlight, she was practically humming with purpose.

She headed straight to his place, unlocking the door with the spare key he’d given her.

It was a simple gift, made in case he needed a backup person to feed his cat.

But the gesture had meant more than he’d ever said out loud.

The house greeted her with a hush until Queenie emerged from the back room like a queen returning from court with a loud meow.

“Hey, Queenie Girl,” Angie said, crouching down with a fond smile.

The aging cat responded with a loud, throaty meow before weaving herself through Angie’s ankles in greeting.

Angie reached to scratch gently behind the cat’s ears, affection curling in her chest. Pete could be the very definition of no-nonsense.

But then he’d adopted this older rescue with arthritis and a crumpled ear as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She loved how he gave quietly, not trying to impress anyone.

She found Queenie’s dish, portioned out her dinner, and stood by as the cat buried her nose into the soft food with eagerness.

“Good girl,” she whispered, fingers brushing Queenie’s back before she locked up behind her.

The drive home was peaceful, the late sun casting long golden rays across the farmland. As she pulled into her driveway, she spotted her grandparents out in the yard. Just the sight of them brought a warmth she’d never stop being grateful for.

She greeted them both, savoring the comfort of their familiar hugs. They moved to the porch, where three lemonades already waited on the small table. Angie raised a brow. “Were you expecting company?”

“Of course we were,” Grandma Dorothy said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You.”

Laughing, Angie settled onto one of the vintage rockers, sipping the lemonade.

Grandpa Stan shot her a knowing look, a glint in his eye. “Seems like that nice young police officer you’re sweet on has been around a lot lately.”

Before she could respond, Grandma Dorothy gave him a light swat on the arm. “Stanley, don’t you go embarrassing her.”

Turning to Angie with a conspiratorial wink, she added, “Although… I wouldn’t mind if he came by for dinner one evening.”

Angie chuckled, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Well, I’m pretty sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of him, so yeah… dinner can be arranged.”

“Oh, good.” Dorothy clapped her hands lightly. “Then things are progressing?”

“They are,” Angie said with a nod. A small pause. “I guess it’s moving kind of fast…”

Dorothy’s voice was warm and sure. “Honey, when it’s right, you just know.”

Stan nodded beside her. “Your grandma and I knew on our first date.”

Angie leaned forward, heart soft. “Really? Tell me more.”

But Grandpa Stan glanced at his watch and shook his head with a grin. “We would, but isn’t this your night at the Y?”

“Oh! Shoot!” She sprang up, kissing their cheeks before dashing toward the house. “Love you both!”

A quick change into leggings and a loose, comfortable top, a fast bite to eat, and Angie was out the door again, heading back to the ESAAA center to grab the larger van.

As she pulled up to Careway Senior Apartments, her group was already gathering on the curb.

She climbed out and opened the side door, helping each one aboard with practiced ease.

Mr. George peered at her from the passenger seat, fiddling with his hearing aid.

“This is the big van. Everything all right?”

Angie gave him a reassuring smile. “Just a change of plans. The kids are joining us for yoga tonight.”

Ms. Hannah clapped delightedly. “Oh, how wonderful! It’s about time they saw what we get up to!”

Mr. Marty grumbled something unintelligible but gave a sly grin. “We’ll see if they can keep up.”

Angie chuckled as she pulled out onto the road, taking the scenic back route toward the pickup spot.

As she approached the familiar lot, she saw the boys waiting, their lanky frames casting long shadows in the fading light.

They hopped on board with easy smiles and quick greetings, immediately buckling themselves in like they’d done it a hundred times.

Jalen leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Pete messaged us. Said you were picking us up.” With a curious tilt of his head, he asked, “Who’s gonna watch us in the gym?”

“You’ll be joining us for chair yoga,” Angie said, glancing into the rearview mirror just in time to catch their wide-eyed expressions.

“Chair yoga?” Mike asked, like she’d just told him they were going ballroom dancing with nuns.

From behind him, Ms. Rosetta chimed in, her tone dry but amused. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Inside the YMCA, Angie led the group through the familiar halls, the kids accompanying the older adults with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

The room they entered was flooded with late afternoon light, airy and welcoming, the scent of lavender diffusers lingering in the air.

Rows of sturdy chairs replaced traditional yoga mats.

The boys looked around, surprise on their faces. Rasheem eyed the setup with a skeptical frown. “So… we just sit there?”

A low chuckle came from Mr. Bertram. “Oh, you’ll see.”

The instructor walked into the room. She was a petite woman with silver-white hair pulled back in a neat bun, her posture impossibly elegant. She carried herself with a graceful calm, her presence soft but commanding.

“Angie!” she greeted warmly, eyes sparkling as she took in the newcomers. “And today, you brought reinforcements?”

Angie grinned. “Change of plans. Think you can handle a few extra limbs in the room?”

The instructor gave a theatrical sigh, then smiled. “Absolutely. The more, the merrier.”

As the boys grabbed chairs and settled in beside their grandparent matches, Angie watched with a full heart. It was one of her favorite sights—these little blended families being stitched together by kindness and time.

The instructor clapped her hands, calling the class to order. “Let’s start with a few deep breaths. In through the nose… and out through the mouth.”

A hush fell over the room as everyone followed her lead. Eyes closed, chests rising and falling in unison. An occasional snort or chuckle erupted from the boys, but they soon got into the rhythm.

Darius peeked one eye open and whispered, “So far, so easy.”

Angie pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh.

Soon, they were rolling their necks, stretching their shoulders, and reaching their arms up and over in a slow wave of movement. The boys fidgeted at first, glancing sideways at their elder counterparts for cues. But when the instructor called for lifted legs and firm posture, things got real.

“Whoa,” Curly muttered, wobbling in his chair. “This is harder than it looks.”

“Balance is key,” Mr. Harold offered, lifting his leg with slow, practiced control. “Use your core.”

“Core?” Kyron echoed, eyes narrowed.

“Your middle,” Mr. Marty explained, patting his own stomach. “Muscles in your belly and back. That’s where your strength comes from.”

Jimmy wasn’t about to be left behind. He sat up straighter, bracing himself and lifting one leg with exaggerated precision. “Like this?”

Ms. Hannah clapped. “Look at that! You’re a natural!”

The class moved on with a rhythm all its own.

There were moments of serious effort—gritted teeth, trembling limbs—and just as many bursts of laughter.

Mr. Bertram stole the show with a dramatic Utkatasana that had half the class giggling, only for him to wink when he said, “That was my fierce pose!”

The other boys declared they also wanted to try it, each making a concerted effort. By the time they reached the final stretch, Angie’s muscles were tingling. She leaned back in her chair, turning slightly, and paused.

There, in the doorway, stood Pete.

His shirtsleeves were rolled to his forearms, and his hair was pushed back as though his fingers had just been dragging through it.

Something in his expression made her breath catch.

He hadn’t said a word yet, just stood there, arms folded loosely across his chest, eyes scanning the room full of kids and elders bent in gentle concentration.

Then Tony spotted him. “Mr. Pete! You made it!”

David grinned. “We’re basically chair yoga champions now.”

Pete chuckled and stepped inside, the sound like a ripple in still water. “That so?”

Angie reached across the empty chair beside her and patted the seat, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Have a seat, Detective. You might learn something.”

He hesitated just long enough for the boys to start goading him, then gave her that slow, sideways grin that never failed to make her stomach flutter. He dropped into the chair with a grunt and rolled his shoulders, mock serious. “Alright. Show me what you got.”

The instructor, never one to waste a teaching moment, added a final stretch to the session, this one just for him. Pete did his best to mimic the move, but his long limbs and not-so-flexible frame betrayed him, earning chuckles from both kids and elders alike.

Easy, genuine laughter bubbled up around the room. It was the kind of expression that came when people felt safe and connected. Angie glanced sideways at Pete. Their eyes met across the heads of giggling boys and beaming seniors.

He mouthed, “ Thank you .”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. The smile she gave him said everything.