What did she even need Axel for? Nothing, that’s what. For God’s sake, she certainly had enough testosterone in her life already. Sure, my brother and his friends doted on Carrie, but they were also making her tough as a boot. Cam, the resident martial arts expert of the group, was teaching her Tae Kwon Do and Wing Chun, a style that was excellent for close-contact self-defense. I grinned as I pinned my hair up in preparation for my surgery that day. No one would ever mess with my daughter. She was a spunky little thing.

At the hospital, I pushed all the negative thoughts away and focused on my upcoming surgeries as I scrubbed up. I was with Eve today, and this morning we were repairing a broken pelvis. This afternoon we were working on the heel of a teenage boy who had fallen off a roof.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted but happy. I checked my phone as I changed back into my street clothes, still stupidly hoping for a message from Axel. My jaw tightened when I found nothing. Fucker. I picked Carrie up from preschool and gave her an extra-exuberant hug and kiss. “Hello, Care Bear. Did you have a good day today?”

“Yup,” she said, squirming away from my embrace. “The teacher let me read a book to the class today. Braley Johnson called me a nerd because I can read, and he can’t. It’s not like it’s that hard. You just look at the words and say them.” She gave an eye roll that would have made a teenage girl proud as we walked out to my SUV.

I tried not to laugh at her, but she was just so matter-of-fact. “It’s not easy for everyone, Care. You read every night before bed, and that’s helped you to become an excellent reader. You’re not a nerd though. You’re just very smart.”

“I know I’m not a nerd, Mommy. I’m a ninja princess. You can’t be a nerd if you’re a ninja princess.”

“That’s true,” I said, admiring the hell out of her confidence.

We stopped by Beau’s because Carrie was supposed to have a martial arts lesson with Cam today. Cam lived with my brother, and the other four guys shared a house in the same neighborhood. Carrie trotted off down the hallway behind Cam to go to his “dojo,” which was a spare bedroom that the guys had transformed with mats and punching bags.

Beau sat in his favorite recliner as I flopped onto their couch and relayed the story of Braley Johnson to Beau, figuring he would get a kick out of Carrie’s ninja princess comment. My brother crossed his arms over his broad chest and asked casually, “What’s this Braley kid’s dad’s name?”