“Harley f-f-fell into a h-hole,” Kendall tells us, her voice still bright and unaffected despite the fact that her teeth are chattering.
“I didn’t see it.” Harley voice is so soft we can barely hear her. “I was running.”
“I was ch-ch-chasing h-her.” Kendall giggles.
“Baby,” Blake kind of whines. “You shouldn’t have left the house without asking. You didn’t have your coat. You were totally unprepared.”
Is she seriously telling her off right now?
That part can wait.
I frown at Blake but don’t get a chance to catch her eye before Nylah hisses. “Ouch.”
Whipping down to look at my wife, I then wince at the gnarly graze and deep bruise on Harley’s leg. Shit, I was holding her right there. She didn’t say it hurt.
My shaking fingers hover over the area as I croak, “Grady.”
He’s the first aid guru. Glancing up, he catches my onset of panic and rushes around the island.
“What is it?” The second he spots Harley’s leg, his nose wrinkles, but he hides the rest behind a kind smile. “Wow. That’s a decent bruise there, kiddo.”
Harley’s big brown eyes gaze up at him, and he bops her nose.
“You’re one brave kid, you know that?”
She shakes her head.
“Oh yes, you are,” he confirms with a smile. “And I’ve got the perfect cream to fix you up, okay? We just need to get you warm first.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Okay.” Kissing her forehead, he moves back around the counter to Blake and Kendall just as the boys rush in with a mound of blankets and duvets that make me wonder if they stripped every bed in the house.
“Is this good?” Logan trips over himself, rushing into the kitchen.
Zander catches his arm before he face-plants, and Sienna snorts before breaking into a laugh.
“I’m sorry,” she tries to apologize. “That’s just a lot of blankets.”
“What?” Cole frowns. “You said get blankets.”
“Yeah, you did good, buddy,” Zander assures him while his mother continues to laugh… and that sets off Nylah. Her laughter is watery—a mix of joy and tearful relief—as I shake out a blanket and hand one to Grady before wrapping the next around my baby girl.
Pulling her close, I lift her off the counter and onto my lap, making sure she’s bundled up nice and warm.
Her shakes are easing now that we’re back inside, but I’m not letting her out of this cocoon until I’m sure she’s defrosted.
“Here you go.” Zoey walks in with two small basins of water.
Grady checks the temperature, then adds a splash of cold water to each before passing one our way.
“You need to put your hands in here, baby.” Nylah tries to free Harley’s fingers, but she doesn’t want to.
Curling into my chest, she shakes her head and whimpers a soft, whiny wail.
“It’s okay,” Nylah coaxes her. “We need to get those little fingers warm.”
“They hurt,” Harley whispers.
