Page 137 of The Incredible Ordinary

He makes a show of peering around himself. “I don’t know if you should advertise your lack of judgment so loudly. Might attract the wrong crowd.”

“According to you, I’m already in the wrong crowd.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Aiden asks with a puzzled frown.

“Oh, gosh,” Milán drawls. “Where to even begin?”

Aiden opens and closes his mouth for a bit before he raises his middle finger at Milán.

Milán widens his eyes and clutches his chest.

“In front of the children!” he says with an exaggerated gasp.

“You’re a…” Aiden seems to be lost for words to describe exactly what he thinks of Milán. “Menace,” he finishes.

“Seriously?” Milán asks. “The perfect selection of insults I have taught you over the years, and you go with menace? At least throw in a fuckface.”

“Stop being a jerk.” I roll my eyes and tug at Milán’s earlobe.

He rolls his eyes right back, but he can’t stop himself from smiling.

“Sorry,” he tells Aiden.

Aiden leans forward and stares at Milán, then at me.

“You taught him to apologize? You’re a fucking miracle worker. Does he know any other tricks?” He grabs the beanie off of Milán’s head and tosses it onto an empty seat in the next row over. “Fetch, boy!”

Milán cuffs him in the back of the head, and Aiden retaliates by twisting Milán’s ear. I push my back against the seat, so I’m blocking the two of them from each other.

“I can’t take you two anywhere, can I?” I say with a sigh.

On the field, Theo tries to dribble past the other team’s defender, a kid almost twice his size. I press my lips together while I watch. Theo ends up on the ground, rolling once, twice.

My heart stutters for a second, but then he’s on his knees and pushing himself up. He casually wipes his knees and the side of his face before he waves at the coach like he’s saying “I’m fine. All good.”

Rory doesn’t get the message though, because he sprints over, arms flailing, and snaps at the other kid. Theo tugs him away, and they jog back into position.

“Jesus Christ. Foul!” Milán yells. “Come on, that’s a red. He went straight through the kid!”

My heart is in my throat, but not because of Theo.

It’s because ofhim.

Because he saw Theo get hurt, and he didn’t hesitate. No pause, no questions, just immediate fire. And something insideme aches. Some hidden corner of my soul I tucked away years ago.

Milán rakes his hand through his hair, still glaring at the ref.

He sticks his thumb and forefinger between his lips and lets out a loud whistle that makes people turn their heads.

“What?” he snaps, looking around. “He’s there to protect these kids. That was dangerous!”

He’s angry, but he’s angry for all the right reasons. He’s angryforTheo.

It must be gratitude. Just some relief that someone else cares this much. Because it’s been so long. So long since someone else stood up for my son like this. Since someone got angry on Theo’s behalf. Since someone reacted instinctively, fiercely, as if Theo’s well-being is tethered to him, too.

I watch Milán and something shifts inside me.

The soft jolt of my stomach makes me blink, and I can’t quite seem to steady my breathing. There’s a sudden, impossible moment when I wonder what it’d feel like to take his hand in mine. To make this protective stance for my son a united front.