Pumped (Mars Fitness #3)

Chapter 35

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

EVEREST

Apparently some urgent care clinics have x-ray machines and can check if a bone is broken. Who knew?

Owen takes an obscene amount of time looking for one that has at least a four-point-five star rating, with expertise in pediatrics. All the while muttering about how dangerous a broken wrist can be. He keeps saying things like permanent damage and paralysis and losing her hand.

By the time we actually get there, Ivy’s fallen asleep in my arms, exhausted from the excitement of her birthday party, then the trauma of falling down the slide. But I’m more terrified than I was when I saw her lying eerily still on the ground.

Guilt eats away at me. This wouldn’t have happened if I was watching her instead of talking to the guys, if I’d been at the bottom of the slide to catch her, if I’d tried to talk Owen out of the damn bouncy castle in the first place. If she loses her hand, it’s going to be my fault.

Ivy’s body is heavy against mine, her head like a rock on my shoulder. Her weight is the only thing keeping me from completely freaking the fuck out. It’s grounding, reassuring. I’m still holding her, feeling her chest rise and fall. She’s still here with us.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Life is so fucking fragile and a little girl like Ivy is so fucking vulnerable. No matter what we do, no matter how hard we try to protect her, there’s danger lurking around every corner. Today it was a bouncy castle. Tomorrow it could be a falling tree branch. The next day could be god knows what else.

Being a parent is terrifying. Debilitating. How do people do it? How do they walk around without their hearts in their throats, their stomach at their knees, and their insides torn to shreds by fear and desperation? It makes me want to wrap her up in bubble wrap and lock her in her room.

Owen drops into the chair next to mine, perched on the edge like he might jump to his feet to keep pacing around the waiting room. His knee starts bouncing. He usually catches himself pretty quickly, but right now, he’s too caught up in his own head to notice.

My hand settles on his knee before I even realize I’ve moved it. His leg stills under my palm and for a second it looks like the nervous energy is going to burst out of the rest of his body. But then he covers my hand with his own and squeezes.

“She’s going to be okay,” he says, eyes staring vacantly into the distance. I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince me or himself.

“The broken wrist isn’t the worst. I mean, it’s serious, but it’s not the end of the world. It’s her non-dominant hand. She’s still young. So even if there are complications, she’ll be able to adapt.”

I don’t really know what Owen’s talking about, but I don’t like the sound of “complications.”

“I'm sorry,” he blurts out suddenly. His grip on my hand tightens almost painfully. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have— If I hadn’t, then we wouldn’t be here right now. She could still have her party with her friends. I’m sorry. Fuck—I’m sorry.”

I feel the anguish in his voice, the guilt and self-condemnation. It’s heavy, suffocating, crushing.

Owen shoots to his feet, dragging air into his lungs as if they won’t work unless he forces them to. His hands go into his hair as he paces back and forth in front of me. Tension radiates off him, making me feel agitated and jittery. I wish he would sit down. He’s making me nervous hovering above me like that.

“I could’ve done better. I should’ve done better.” Pace. Pace. Turn. “Why did I get that stupid bouncy castle? That thing is a goddamn deathtrap.” Pace. Pace. Turn. “Oh my god, the other parents, they must think we’re incompetent.”

“Babe!” The word explodes out of me like the top blown off a pressure cooker.

Ivy stirs in my arms, a furrow forming in her brow as she makes small sleepy sounds. Shit. I didn’t mean to wake her.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetie. Go back to sleep,” I say, rubbing her back, but a voice calls out before I can soothe her back to sleep.

“Ivy Lambert?”

We all turn in the direction of the nurse. He leads us down a narrow hallway and into an examination room. It’s small, cramped with the exam bed taking up most of the space. There’s a tiny table tucked into the corner with a computer and two chairs lined up against the wall. With three grown adults and a little girl, it feels a bit claustrophobic. Suddenly, all of Owen’s muttering and talking to himself hits me like a sledgehammer.

What if Ivy’s wrist is broken? What if it’s worse than broken? What if there’s permanent damage and she’ll never be able to use it again? What if she loses it entirely? All these worst-case scenarios race through my mind as I stand in the middle of the tiny room, clutching Ivy to me so tightly she starts to whimper.

“Sorry, sweetie. Sorry.”

The nurse gestures to the bed. “You can set her on there.”

Ivy leans into me, grabbing onto my shirt with her good hand, and honestly, I don’t want to let her go either. If I keep her in my arms, if I can physically wrap myself around her, then maybe the diagnosis won’t be as bad.

“Is it okay if I…” I nod toward the bed and start hoisting myself onto it before the nurse even answers. “She’ll be more comfortable if I’m holding her.” And I will be too .

The nurse smiles sympathetically. “Sure, go ahead. My name is Dustin, and I’m a nurse practitioner. That means I’m qualified to do pretty much everything a doctor can do.” He rolls his little stool over to the bed. “So what brings you in today?”

Owen steps up next to the bed, planting his feet and crossing his arms like he’s our own personal bodyguard. “She fell and injured her wrist. We need an x-ray to check if it’s broken,” he barks with a scowl on his face.

Dustin’s gaze darts up to him, a little taken aback, and I nudge Owen with my foot. We don’t need to piss off the nurse who’s trying to take care of Ivy. What if he gives us a bad diagnosis? I mean, I know that’s not how it works, but I’m not taking any chances, okay?

Dustin turns back to Ivy with a cautious expression. “Can I take a look?”

Ivy doesn’t move, and a part of me wants to hide her away from this stranger. But that’s only going to drag this out longer than any of us want. I rub her back. “It’s okay, Ives, you can show him.”

Carefully, I help her slip the makeshift sling off and support her arm as she extends it to Dustin. Owen watches like a hawk as Dustin examines Ivy’s wrist, now swollen to twice the size of her other one. I’m not a doctor, but it doesn’t look good.

Dustin’s brow furrows as he turns her wrist over. “We’ll have to get an x-ray to know for sure, but from the stiffness of the muscles, I would guess it’s broken.”

My heart plummets. “Is that bad? I mean, that’s bad, right?”

Owen sets a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I lean into his touch, seeking comfort in his strength. “We won’t know until the x-ray images come back,” he says.

Dustin agrees. “Yes, that’s right. If it is broken, we’ll have to see where the break is and if it’s partial or complete. There are lots of little bones in the wrist and hand, so if there’s more than one break or if bones are displaced, then it’ll get more complicated.”

I feel the blood drain from my face as I imagine Ivy with steel rods sticking out of her arm like some sort of cyborg. Ivy starts crying again. Soft, quiet tears that roll down her red and splotchy cheeks. Owen lets out a growl so low it’s barely a rumble and steps forward to insert himself between us and the nurse.

“ Or , it could just be a sprain,” Dustin says, trying to sound upbeat while rolling his chair away. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions until the x-rays come in.” He stands and pushes the little stool into the corner. “You guys just hang tight in here. I’ll let the x-ray tech know and he’ll come get you when he’s ready.”

The door closes behind him and Owen turns to us. He pulls out one of the fresh handkerchiefs he grabbed on the way out the door and dabs at Ivy’s cheeks. He wraps his other hand around the back of my neck. “You guys okay?”

Ivy’s got her brave face on and she nods, cradling her hand to her chest. I don’t feel nearly as brave as she does, but I nod too.