Page 28 of Breakaway Daddies

I lean back in my seat, a smile stretched wide across my lips. She’s completely at ease here, as if she’s been living with us forever.

The way she bounces around the kitchen, her hair bobbing with each step, giving orders like a tiny, punk-rock general, is actually kind of adorable.

“Alright, muscleheads,” she says, handing Bruno and Thomas knives and a cutting board with a playful flourish. “You’re on veggie duty.”

Thomas lets out a theatrical groan, his shoulders slumping in exaggerated despair. “Why are we the ones chopping?”

“Because I don’t trust you to season the chicken properly,” Jinx quips, already expertly slicing three chicken breasts, her knife gliding with precision.

I watch them navigate the kitchen, their banter filled with teasing and laughter, echoing off the walls. The whole scene reminds me of home, of my mom and sister bustling about during the holidays, the kitchen always alive with warmth and the smell of roasting spices.

I haven’t seen them in a while. And maybe I should.

I shake that thought away, focusing back on Jinx as she hums a familiar tune to herself, effortlessly moving around our kitchen as if it was always her domain.

I must be staring too long, because her eyes flicker toward me, catching my gaze. “What?” she asks, her voice curious but firm.

I hesitate, chewing on the inside of my cheek before finally asking, “Do you really think I’ll recover?”

She pauses, carefully sliding the casserole dish into the preheated oven, the aroma of cheese and spices wafting through the kitchen. Turning back to me, she places her hands on her hips, her expression thoughtful.

“That depends,” she replies, eyes locked onto mine. “Are you actually going to try?”

I let out a deep groan, allowing my head to slump back against the plush cushions of the couch. “I don’t know,” I admit, frustration lacing my words. “I just… I don’t feel like myself. I don’t know if I want to try.”

Jinx sighs and walks over to me, arms crossed over her chest. “Fine,” she says with a decisive nod. “Then I’ll bribe you.”

I arch an eyebrow, intrigued. “Bribe me how?”

A sly, toothy grin on her lips. “Every time you complete a set of exercises, you get a kiss.”

Bruno, lounging in the armchair nearby, lets out a derisive snort. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Thomas whistles, low and teasing, from where he leans casually against the doorframe. “Damn, Jinx. You know exactly how to motivate a man.”

I can’t help but grin at her, feeling a spark of hope. “You serious?”

She gives a nonchalant shrug, but her eyes twinkle with mischief. “You gonna test me?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I nod. “Hell yeah.”

She kneels beside me, guiding me gently through the first exercise. Her hands demonstrate slow, precise ankle rotations to help loosen up my stiff leg.

I follow her lead, focusing on each movement, and when the set is complete, she leans in to press a lingering kiss on my lips.

Fireworks burst through my senses, but before I can deepen the kiss, she pulls back, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Good boy.”

I groan, a mix of exasperation and delight. “That’s evil.”

Her grin broadens as she stands. “Do the next one, Davis.”

Laughing, I dive into the next exercise, determination surging through me. If this is how physical therapy is going to go, I might recover faster than anyone expected.

Jinx stretches her arms high above her head, her muscles lengthening as she lets out a satisfied sigh that fills the room.

“Alright, patient,” she says as she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “You survived another round of physical therapy. At this rate, I expect a full recovery in record time.”

I grin back, testing my leg by bending and straightening it. It’s sore, a dull ache throbbing in my muscles, but definitely better than before. “If this is how rehab goes, I might start faking injuries just to hang out here.”

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