Page 18 of Pucking Inevitable: Bonus Scene
He is, as he always is, standing just outside the tunnel when we get there. Showered, jacket on, the particular settled energy of post-game Xaden, which is different from all other Xaden’s in a specific way I have only ever been able to describe as landed. Like he has returned to himself from somewhere.
He sees Em first.
He always sees Em first.
She launches herself at him from approximately four feet away, a move that she executes with absolute confidence that he will catch her. Which he does, which he always will, which she has known since she could calculate trajectories.
He catches her with one arm and pulls her against his chest and she grabs his jacket with both fists and says, into his shoulder: “Twenty-three minutes.”
“Twenty-three minutes,” he confirms.
“I timed you.”
“I know you timed me.”
“You were twenty-two and a half.”
“I was in a hurry.”
She pulls back to look at him. She examines the cut above his eyebrow with the expression of someone conducting a professional assessment. “You got hurt.”
“I'm fine.”
“You said that last time too.”
“And I was fine last time too.”
She touches the cut with one careful finger. He lets her. He sits very still for it, this man who does not sit still for anything. This man, who has the patience of no one in most situations, lets a three-year-old examine his face with the focused concern of a trauma surgeon and he does not say a word.
“It needs a band-aid,” she says.
“It doesn't need a band-aid.”
“Mama,” she says, turning to me with the authority of someone escalating to the next decision-maker. “It needs a band-aid.”
“It probably needs a band-aid,” I say.
Xaden looks at me.
“It doesn't—”
“Devlin.”
He closes his mouth.
“Band-aid,” Em says conclusively. She turns back to him and puts her hand on his face, small and deliberate, the way she holds things she loves, carefully, with the full weight of her attention. “You have to be more careful.”
His jaw moves.
“I know,” he says.
“You're not allowed to get hurt,” she says. “I don't like it.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
“I'm serious, Daddy.”
“I know you're serious.” His hand comes up and covers hers where it rests against his face. Gray eyes, hers and his, looking at each other. “I'll be more careful.”
