Page 130 of Viking

“He asked the kid if he had a valid pilot’s license and then offered to trade his for fruit snacks.”

Owen snorts. “That’s on brand.”

“Completely. And Ryan gave his entire patch stash away to a group of fifth graders because they asked him what it meant to be brave. He told them bravery was doing the right thing even when it can cost you everything.”

The laughter dies down at the mention of his name. There’s a shadow in the room now. A shared one.

Clark turns his chair to face me. “Wait. You keep track of who gave away what?”

“I keep track of everything,” I say, flipping another page. “I know which one of you showed up fifteen minutes late to the STEM expo in Ocean City—”

“Okay, narc,” Clark interrupts, holding up a hand.

“—because you went to get an iced latte.”

“It was hot,” he mutters, sulking slightly.

“You didn’t even bring me one,” I add, smirking. “Unforgivable.”

“Noted for next season,” Clark quips. “Iced lattes equal less judgment.”

“Outreach matters,” I say after a beat, quieter. “The jets pull the crowds, but the pilots? You’re the legacy. The human connection to Raptor Nation—something otherwise unreachable. It’s what stays with people.”

Asher nods slowly. “It’s the part they don’t train us for but might be the most important thing we do.”

I tap the edge of my phone again. Still nothing. My voice tightens. “And the kids…they don’t forget. They remember who looked them in the eye. Who listened. Who made them feel seen.”

Owen shifts in his seat. “And for what it’s worth, Lila? You crushed it this season. Even my mom texted me after the VA visit in Colorado Springs. She said, ‘That nice brunette who runs the demo team has the patience of a saint.’”

Runs the demo team, huh?

I laugh softly. “She’s not wrong. Have y’all met you?”

“Yeah, and we’re delightful.” Porter leans back in his chair, stretching his muscular arms behind his head and grins.

“Debatable.” I glance down at my phone, screen still blank. Ignoring the pit in my stomach, I press on. “I’ll send you each a breakdown by event and prep notes for next year’s structure, but the feedback’s been overwhelmingly positive. Especially from schools and youth centers. We had several requests to bring pilots back in the off-season for mentorship programs.”

“That’s new,” Asher says, looking intrigued.

“It is. I’ll work on it and see what’s viable,” I say, making a note. “But it means we’re doing something right.”

Clark raises his hand like a student. “Question.”

“Yes?”

“Can I be a mentor?” He flashes me the most innocent smile.

“No.” I press my lips together to keep from smiling back.

“And why not?” he asks, rubbing a hand up his face and through his sandy blond hair.

“You told a kid to eat nails!”

“He asked me how I avoid blacking out at high gs,” he tries.

This time I do smile. “And you didn’t think to tell him you went to school? Trained for years? Worked really hard? Made good grades? None of that?”

He bites his lip. “I…”