"Just bumped my knee, buddy. I'm okay."
"Those men were mean."
"Yes," Brad agreed. "They were."
"Miss Serena hit them with the cart."
"She did."
"That was badass."
"Yeah, she was," Brad said automatically, but I caught the hint of a smile.
I navigated us home through sheer determination and possibly divine intervention, pulling into Brad's garage with shaking hands. The moment we were parked, I turned to assess Brad properly. His face was gray, jaw clenched against pain.
"Finn, honey, can you carry the light bags inside?" I asked. "Your dad and I need to get the heavy stuff."
Finn looked between us, too smart to be fooled but willing to play along. “Okay. Just come in soon, Dad. Miss Serena’s here for you.”
As soon as Finn was inside, Brad's controlled facade cracked. "Fuck. Sorry. It's—"
"Bad. I know. Lean on me."
"I can walk—"
"Brad. Lean on me."
He did, his weight warm and solid against my side as we made our way inside. The protective fury that had driven me to ram those men with a shopping cart still hummed through my veins. They'd hurt him. They'd scared Finn. The intensity of my response—the maternal instinct toward Finn, the protective rage for Brad—should have frightened me.
Instead, it felt like something clicking into place.
Chapter 10: Brad
My pride had exactly thirty seconds to protest before Serena took complete control of the situation. She settled Finn with a movie and enough snacks to keep him occupied, then returned with an expression that brooked no argument.
"Couch. Now."
"I should put the groceries—"
"I'll handle it after I look at your knee. Couch."
Her teacher voice was surprisingly effective on grown men too. I limped to the couch, trying not to show how much each step hurt. She appeared with ice packs, pillows for elevation, and my own first aid supplies I didn't remember telling her about.
"Pants off," she said matter-of-factly.
"Excuse me?"
"I can't assess the damage through denim. Pants off, or I'm cutting them off."
"These are my favorite jeans."
"Then I suggest you remove them yourself."
I stared at her. She stared back, unflinching. Somehow, I'd gone from protecting her from a tree through her roof to being bossed around in my own living room by someone who barely came up to my shoulder.
With as much dignity as I could manage, I stood and unfastened my jeans, gritting my teeth as I pushed them down. The knee was already swollen, bruising spreading in ugly purple patterns.
"Jesus, Brad." Her clinical demeanor slipped. "This needs an X-ray."
