Chapter 5: Serena
The morning after our skating session, I stood on my cabin's deck with my coffee, watching the sunrise paint the mountains gold and trying very hard not to think about Brad Wilder's hands on my waist. I'd already been up for two hours, lesson planning and creating adaptive materials for the upcoming week, but my mind kept drifting to blue eyes and unexpected vulnerability.
"Miss Serena! Miss Serena!" Finn's excited voice carried through the trees, startling a family of deer I'd been watching.
He burst through the tree line, wearing dinosaur pajamas and snow boots, his hair sticking up in every direction. My heart did a little flip at the sight of him—this brave, bright child who carried an inhaler like other kids carried toy cars.
"Finn?" I set down my coffee, stunned. "What are you—how did you—?"
"WE'RE NEIGHBORS!" He practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his toes as his breath made little clouds in the cold air. "Can you believe it? This is better than when I found out chicken nuggets could be dinosaur-shaped!"
The world tilted slightly. Neighbors?
My eyes tracked past him to the house I’d been ogling for days—the one that looked like it belonged in an architectural magazine spread, the one I'd assumed was some tech millionaire's weekend retreat—that was theirs?
Brad emerged beside Finn moments later, looking both mortified and shocked. His hair was damp from a shower, and he wore jeans and a flannel shirt that made him look like he'dstepped out of a mountain-lifestyle catalog. "Finn, you can't just—" He stopped short when he saw me, his expression shifting from parental frustration to complete surprise. "Serena? You're our neighbor?"
"Apparently so," I managed, still trying to process this revelation.
"I'm sorry. He saw you from his telescope and took off before I could stop him. We had no idea you were our neighbor."
"You have a telescope?" I asked Finn, genuinely interested.
"For stars and planets and sometimes for spying—but Dad says that's rude, so I only spy on the deer." He tilted his head, still bouncing at the edge of the tree line. "You should come see it! And have breakfast! Dad's making special pancakes!"
"Finn, Miss Serena probably has plans—" Brad's voice carried across the distance.
"Actually, I don't," I called back, surprising myself. "And I haven't had breakfast yet."
"Then you have to come!" Finn's face lit up even brighter. "Dad makes the pancakes look like hockey pucks and we have real maple syrup, not the fake stuff, and orange juice with pulp but also without pulp because I don't like stringy things in my drinks!"
Brad's expression cycled through embarrassment, resignation, and something that might have been pleasure. "You really don't have to—"
"I'd love to," I said, meaning it. "Give me five minutes? I'll walk over."
"YES!" Finn did a little victory dance before Brad guided him back into their house. "We'll be waiting!"
I watched them disappear into the forest that separated our properties, then quickly ran inside to grab my phone and check my reflection. Five minutes later, I was navigating the narrow deer path through the trees, following the glimpses of glass and steel through the branches.
Their house intimidated me as I approached—all soaring windows and clean lines. I climbed the wooden steps to their front door and rang the bell, hearing Finn's excited shriek of "She's here!" from inside.
Brad opened the door, looking slightly flustered but welcoming. "Come in. Finn's been narrating your entire walk from the window."
"I saw you through the trees!" Finn confirmed, grabbing my hand the moment I stepped inside. "Come see everything!"
The interior was surprisingly warm despite the modern aesthetic. Yes, the kitchen had professional-grade appliances and the living room looked like a furniture showroom, but there were also Finn's drawings covering the refrigerator, a blanket fort half-constructed in the corner, and enough blocks scattered on the coffee table to build a small city.
"Sorry about the mess," Brad said automatically, though the house was cleaner than mine on my best day.
"If this is messy, you should see my house," I said, making Finn giggle.
Brad moved around the kitchen with practiced efficiency, pulling out ingredients while Finn provided running commentary about their usual breakfast routine, whichapparently involved a lot of negotiation about fruit intake and whether chocolate chips counted as a food group.
"So you're gonna be at my school!" Finn announced, as if this was breaking news despite clearly having known for a while. "You said you’re an Inclusion Specialist! But what does 'Inclusion Specialist' actually mean? Dad looked it up but the internet used big words and he tried to explain but sometimes Dad makes things more confusing when he uses his professor voice."
Brad paused mid-pancake flip. "I don't have a professor voice."
"You totally do," Finn insisted, then turned back to me expectantly.
