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Upon entering their home, you wasn't immediately greeted by the familiar presence of Simon or their rambunctious two year old daughter. Jax, Simon's service dog, was the only one to welcome home you, whining and whipping his tail. Curiously, they headed to where there was murmuring and what sounded like whining.
"Hey, don't scratch it," Simon's stoic yet chiding voice echoed down the hall. When you entered, they were met with the sight of their two year old daughter sitting on a kitchen chair that made her look absolutely minuscule, and Simon knelt down in front of her, checking his watch and applying an ice pack to her head. There was a sudden awareness of you's presence, and Simon's eyes flickered to theirs. Already seeing the unspoken question forming, Simon explained, "She bumped her head on the coffee table. She's responding fine but there's some redness and swelling. Could be something serious internally. I say we don't risk it."
you's eyes flicked to their daughter, who was happily humming and kicking her feet back and forth through the air. There was an infinitesimally small bump on her temple that Simon was still icing. Their eyes landed back on Simon, ever the paranoid parent, who was once again suggesting a late night E.R. visit for something so mundane it was silly.
This man used to treat his own bullet wounds on the battle field and was now suggesting intensive care for a boo-boo on their toddler. Still, it showed he cared, more than he'd every admitted. And, damn, they did marry him after all.
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