“And what do you think—” My words halt as Gunner runs by the window. He has one little boy hitching a ride piggy-back style and another chasing after them while Trey shouts at them from farther away. But it’s not the kids or the actions that catch my attention, it’s the expression on Gunner’s face. Pure freaking joy. And in all honesty, I’m not one hundred percent sure why it hits me so hard, but it does. He’s . . . beautiful. Selfless.

“Yeah, he’s kind of amazing,” Ellie says, breaking through my fog. I startle and look at her.

“What?” I ask, flustered.

“You were mid-sentence when he ran by and then forgot to finish what you were saying.” She shrugs and gives me a knowing smile. “So I figured I’d finish your thought for you.”

I clear my throat and force myself not to look out the window again, where it seems there’s an epic invisible battle of some sort taking place. “Yes. He is. Uh—where were we?”

“You mean before or after you were admiring him?”

I give her my best Dekker-glare but she just laughs. “Before.”

“Oh, right.” Another smirk. “I was explaining how we use managing the rec league to help pay for these kids.” She points to the six boys currently pretend-attacking Gunner. “Any child who has lost a parent in combat receives any and all that we offer at no cost.”

“Why?” It’s a simple word but it can ask so many questions.

“To help their remaining parent out. To give the kids some of what they are now missing. A father or a mother figure. We try to help ease the grief associated with losing a parent in a way where the kids don’t feel like they’re making the parent they have sadder.”

I nod over the lump forming in my throat. How many times did I bury my head in my pillow to cry at night so I wouldn’t make my dad more upset after we lost my mom?

“That’s amazing. So it’s just sports or do you—”

“It’s more than sports. We do community service events like park clean-up or facilitate them mentoring younger kids.”

“Mentoring younger kids?” I laugh. “They’re kids themselves.”