Chapter 15 Brad
The threat from Sarah's parents sent my protective instincts into overdrive. I spent the night after the call pacing, planning, catastrophizing every possible scenario where they took Finn away.
"Brad." Serena's voice cut through my spiral. She stood in my office doorway, coffee in hand. "You haven't slept."
"I can't. If they file for emergency custody—"
She moved into the room, setting coffee on my desk. "We have time."
"Time for what? They're right—there's an unvetted stranger living with my son."
The words came out wrong, harsh. She flinched.
"Is that what I am? A stranger?"
"No. God, no. But legally—"
"Legally, I'm a certified educator with extensive background checks. I work at his school. Multiple families can vouch for my character."
She was right, but logic wasn't penetrating my panic.
"They have unlimited resources," I said. "Retired, wealthy, connected. They'll paint me as an absent father who prioritizes hockey over Finn."
"Anyone who's spent five minutes with you knows that's bullshit."
"Judges don't spend five minutes. They read reports. Look at facts. Single father, dangerous career, recent injury affecting stability—"
"Devoted father, successful career, temporary injury with full recovery expected." She countered each point. "Plus a stable home environment with consistent routines and medical care."
"It won't be enough."
She was quiet for a moment, then: "What if you weren't single?"
I stared at her. "What?"
"Your lawyer said married couples have stronger custody positions. Stable two-parent households, especially with an educator who specializes in children with health conditions..."
"You're suggesting we get married?"
"I'm suggesting we present a united front. Let them think what they want about our relationship status."
"Serena, I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking. I'm offering." She met my eyes steadily. "Finn needs you. You need him. I'm not letting Sarah's parents tear your family apart because they don't approve of your choices."
"This is insane."
"This is strategy." She moved closer. "We don't have to actually do anything differently. Just... make our relationship status more visible. Control the narrative."
"Pretend to be together?"
Something flashed in her eyes. "Would we be pretending?"
The question hung between us.
"No," I admitted. "But making it public, official—that's different. There'll be scrutiny, judgment. Your job—"
"Will be fine. Principal Harrison already knows I'm staying here. Half the town does."
"This could get messy."
"Brad." She took my hands. "It's already messy. But Finn's worth it."
Looking at her—bedhead and borrowed clothes, fierce determination in her eyes—I felt something shift. Sarah's parents wanted to prove I couldn't provide a stable home for Finn. But here was Serena, ready to fight for us without hesitation.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay?"
"We present a united front. Whatever that requires."
"Whatever it requires," she echoed.
The first test of our newly weaponized relationship came at team bowling—mandatory family fun where the Avalanche pretended they weren't all competitive psychopaths who'd sell their mothers for a strike.
Serena emerged from the bedroom wearing my jersey, and my brain briefly flatlined. Theo had somehow materialized one in her size—probably the same way he materialized alibis and bail money.
"How do I look?" She did a little spin.
"Like Dad swallowed his tongue," Finn observed, already in his matching jersey. "Also his brain stopped working. See? He's doing the fish thing."
I closed my mouth.
"We should probably go," Serena said, but she was smiling that dangerous smile that made me want to cancel plans and explore exactly how that jersey would look on my bedroom floor.
The bowling alley was a sensory assault of cosmic lighting, divorced-dad rock, and the overwhelming smell of nachos and broken dreams. Half the team was already there, their chaos contained to lanes 6 through 12.
Kelly spotted us first, nearly dropping her radioactive-orange bowling ball. "FINALLY! Derek, you owe me fifty bucks! I told you they'd go public before playoffs!"
"We're not—" I started.
"We're together," Serena interrupted smoothly, sliding under my arm like she'd been doing it for years. "Sorry to keep you all in suspense."
My brain short-circuited at the word 'together.' Serena's hand found mine, squeezing once— play along.
"About fucking time," Derek muttered, then quickly covered Finn's ears. "I mean, about fudging time."
"I know the F-word, Uncle Derek," Finn said patiently. "Mom used it when she burned cookies."
The evening became a masterclass in public intimacy.
Serena cheered for my bowling like I was performing neurosurgery instead of throwing gutter balls.
I kept finding excuses to touch her—hand on her back, fingers through hers, tucking her hair behind her ear.
Every contact felt like completing a circuit, electricity sparking between us.
"You're about as subtle as a brick to the face," Theo announced, materializing with Maria attached to his side like a gorgeous barnacle.
"Subtlety is for people without custody battles," Maria said, stealing someone's beer. "Besides, the PI Sarah's parents hired has been taking photos from the arcade section for twenty minutes."
We all turned. A man in a cap suddenly became fascinated by the claw machine.
"How did you—"
"Theo's guy has been tailing him for three days," Maria explained. "We've got surveillance on the surveillance. Very meta."
"My guy also got his credit card records," Theo added casually. "Dude's got concerning internet purchase history. Lots of night vision equipment and a disturbing amount of beef jerky."
"Is that legal?" Serena asked.
"Is anything Theo does legal?" Maria countered.
"I resent that. Some of my activities exist in legal gray areas."
"That's not better," I pointed out.
"Look," Theo got serious, which happened about as often as solar eclipses.
"Sarah's parents want to play dirty? We'll play dirtier.
Coach already wrote a statement about your 'exceptional balance of professional and parental responsibilities.
' Three teammates' wives are providing affidavits about your home environment. The team lawyer—"
"The team has a lawyer?" Serena asked, surprised.
"The team has several lawyers. Hockey players make poor life choices." He gestured vaguely at himself. "Point is, you're not alone in this."
The support hit me like a check into the boards. I'd spent two years building walls, convinced that needing help was admitting failure. But here was my team, my chosen family, ready to fight for me and Finn without being asked.
"I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll stop being a martyr-complex wrapped in hockey gear," Maria suggested. "Also, say you'll kiss Serena because the PI's definitely recording and we should give him something good."
"Maria!" Serena protested, but her cheeks were pink.
"What? It's strategic." Maria's grin was pure evil. "Unless you've been practicing already?"
The gala kiss hung between us, unspoken but radioactive.
"Dad and Miss Serena kiss all the time," Finn announced, returning from his third trip to the snack bar. "I saw them in the kitchen yesterday."
We absolutely had not kissed in the kitchen yesterday.
"Finn—"
"They were really close and looking at each other with the feelings face." He demonstrated what looked like severe constipation. "Then they jumped apart when I came in."
"Not kissing but wanting to kiss is worse," Kelly observed. "The tension's giving me hives."
As if orchestrated by fate and bad timing, a love song started playing over the speakers. The cosmic bowling lights dimmed to full romance mode.
"Oh for fuck's sake," I muttered.
"Language," Serena said automatically, then pulled me down for a kiss that definitely wasn't strategic.
It was nothing like the desperate gala kiss. This was deliberate, performed for an audience but somehow more intimate. Her hands framed my face, my arms went around her waist, and for a moment the chaotic bowling alley disappeared.
"GET A ROOM!" someone yelled—probably Theo.
We pulled apart to thunderous applause and Finn's assessment: "Finally! Do you know how exhausting it's been watching you two pretend you don't want to smoosh faces?"
"Smoosh faces?" I asked.
"Matthew's term."
"That kid Matthew knows too much," Serena observed.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of terrible bowling, excessive PDA for the PI’s benefit, and Finn explaining to everyone how Miss Serena was helping him with his homework in creative ways.
Driving home, Finn asleep in the back, the performance aspect faded into something real.
"That was..." I started.
"Necessary," Serena supplied.
"I was going to say nice."
"Oh." Her voice went soft. "Yeah, it was."
"The PI got enough photos to wallpaper a courthouse," I said. "Mission accomplished."
"Right. The mission." Something in her voice made me glance over. She was staring out the window, still wearing my jersey, looking like everything I never knew I wanted.
"Serena—"
"We're really doing this, aren't we? Pretending to love?"
"Yes. Is that terrifying or wonderful?"
"Both," she said, and reached across the console to take my hand.
In the backseat, Finn muttered in his sleep: "Miss Serena... tell the judge... we keep her..."
Even unconscious, my kid was fighting for our family.
The PI could photograph that.