They stayed like that for a moment while I sat frozen, witnessing something too private, too raw. Then Finn pulled back, wiping his nose on his pajama sleeve.
"Miss Serena makes you laugh," he announced. "Real laughs, not the fake ones you do for other people. You should date her."
"FINN."
I nearly choked on my coffee. "Oh, that's—Finn, your dad and I are just friends."
"But you could be more," Finn insisted with the terrifying logic of childhood. "You're nice and pretty and you understand about my breathing and you live next door which is super convenient."
"Okay!" Brad clapped his hands once, face now fully red. "Who wants to show Miss Serena the telescope?"
"Smooth subject change, Dad," Finn said dryly, but he grabbed my hand again. "Come on! My room is cool. I have a nebulizer that looks like a dragon!"
Finn's room was indeed cool—space-themed with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, shelves full of books and blocks, and medical equipment integrated so naturally it just seemed part of the décor. The nebulizer did look like a dragon, the peakflow meter was decorated with stickers, and his medication chart was disguised as a rocket ship tracking chart.
"This is amazing," I told Brad, who hovered in the doorway protectively.
"We try to make it not scary," he said quietly while Finn demonstrated his telescope. "Normal, routine, just part of life."
"You've done an incredible job."
"Have I?" The question came out raw, uncertain. "Sometimes I think I'm just terrified and calling it love."
"The two aren't mutually exclusive," I said, moving closer to him while Finn focused on adjusting his telescope. "Love is terrifying when you have something to lose."
He looked at me then, really looked, and I saw past his careful control to the man underneath—lonely, scared, trying so hard to be everything his son needed.
"Dad, Miss Serena, look!" Finn called. "You can see an eagle!"
We moved to the telescope together, the intimate moment shifting as we joined Finn at the window, watching the majestic bird soar above the treeline.
I spent another hour with them, looking through the telescope, helping Finn with a puzzle, existing in their space like I belonged there. It felt dangerous, this easy intimacy, the way Finn casually leaned against me while showing me his books, the way Brad's eyes followed me with something like wonder.
As I left, Finn extracted promises—I'd come for dinner sometime, I'd help him with his solar system project, I'd teach him the card game I'd mentioned.
"I'm sorry about the dating comment," Brad said, walking me to the door. "He doesn't have much of a filter."
"It's fine," I assured him, though my heart was racing. "Kids say what they think."
"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Thing is, he's not wrong. About the laughing thing. You do make me laugh. Real laughs."
The admission hung between us, delicate as spun glass.
"You make me brave," I admitted, then immediately wanted to take it back. Too much, too honest.
But Brad smiled, that rare, transformative expression that made him look years younger. "Brave is good. We could use more brave around here."
Walking back to my cabin, I felt the weight of what was happening. I was starting to care for them both—the guarded father and his bright, brave son. It was too fast, too complicated, too everything.
But when I turned back, they were both in the window, waving, and I knew I was already in too deep to stop.
Chapter 6: Brad
The physical therapy room at the team facility smelled like industrial disinfectant and broken dreams. I pushed through my third set of leg lifts, my knee screaming protests while Jake, the sadistic PT, counted reps with unseemly enthusiasm.
"Eight, nine, come on Wilder, my grandmother moves faster than this!"
"Your grandmother didn't have a torn MCL," I grunted, sweat dripping onto the mat.
