3. Enzo
3
ENZO
T he next morning, I sat in my office, staring at Ava’s medical chart, though my focus wasn’t entirely on the numbers in front of me. Her platelet levels were stable for now, but the surgery couldn’t wait long. I had already scheduled it for the following week, giving Summer a few days to prepare herself—and Ava—for what was to come.
But it wasn’t just the medical details weighing on my mind. It was Ava herself.
Her wide, curious blue eyes had been haunting me since the moment I met her. Something about her felt… familiar. Too familiar.
I shook my head, forcing myself back into work mode. There was no point in jumping to conclusions or letting my imagination run wild. I was her doctor first, and that’s all that mattered.
When I stepped into Ava’s room later that afternoon, she was sitting cross-legged on the exam table, scribbling furiously in a coloring book. Summer sat beside her, scrolling through her phone but glancing up every few seconds, her protective instincts sharp.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” I said with a smile.
Ava looked up, grinning. “Hi, Dr. Pearson!”
“Hi, Ava. What are you drawing?” I asked, leaning over to look at her book.
“It’s a princess castle,” she said, holding it up proudly. “But the princess has a dragon friend. He’s nice, though. He doesn’t breathe fire at anyone.”
I chuckled. “A friendly dragon? I like that. You’ll have to color it in and show me when it’s done.”
“I will!” she promised, picking up a green crayon.
I turned my attention to Summer, who was watching us with an unreadable expression. “How’s she feeling today?”
“She’s fine,” Summer said, her tone clipped. “Her knee’s a little sore, but nothing she can’t handle.”
“Good,” I said, sitting down across from them. “I just want to check in before the surgery. Make sure everything’s on track.”
Summer nodded, but her body language was stiff. She was still holding something back, and I couldn’t ignore the tension between us.
As I examined Ava’s knee, I decided to ease into the questions that had been swirling in my mind since yesterday. “Ava,” I said casually, “do you like puzzles?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I love puzzles! Mommy got me one with a hundred pieces, and I finished it all by myself!”
“Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed. “That’s amazing. I used to love puzzles when I was your age, too.”
Summer stiffened slightly, but I kept my focus on Ava.
“What else do you like to do?” I asked.
“Um… I like drawing and building stuff with blocks,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “And I like helping Mommy cook. We make pancakes on Saturdays!”
“Pancakes, huh? What’s your favorite topping?”
“Chocolate chips!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.
“That’s the best choice,” I said with a grin.
As Ava chatted animatedly, I caught glimpses of myself in her expressions—in the way her face lit up when she talked about something she loved, in the little furrow of her brow when she was thinking.
When I glanced at Summer, her jaw was tight, and she was avoiding my gaze. She knew what I was seeing, too.
“Ava,” I said after a moment, “can you tell me about your dad? Does he like puzzles, too?”
Summer’s head snapped toward me, her eyes sharp. “Enzo?—”
“What?” I said innocently, shrugging. “I’m just curious.”
Ava blinked at me, then looked at her mom, confused. “I don’t have a daddy,” she said matter-of-factly.
My heart thudded. “Oh,” I said gently. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Summer shot me a warning look. “Ava, why don’t you finish your drawing while I talk to Dr. Pearson?”
“Okay, Mommy,” Ava said, turning back to her coloring book without a second thought.
Summer stood and walked to the far side of the room, motioning for me to follow. I did, keeping my expression neutral, though I could feel the tension rolling off her in waves.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, her voice low but furious.
“I’m just making conversation,” I said calmly.
“No, you’re fishing,” she snapped. “And you need to stop.”
I crossed my arms, leaning slightly against the wall. “Summer, you can’t seriously expect me to ignore the fact that she looks like?—”
“Like what?” she interrupted, her tone icy. “Like a kid? Like a patient you’re supposed to be helping?”
“Don’t do that,” I said quietly. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “This isn’t the time or the place, Enzo. Ava needs a doctor right now, not… whatever this is.”
I studied her face, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her eyes darted toward Ava every few seconds. She was hiding something, and I couldn’t let it go.
“I’m not trying to make this harder for you,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “But I deserve to know the truth.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t get to demand anything, Enzo. Not after all this time.”
“That’s not fair, and you know it,” I said, my voice rising slightly.
“Fair?” she shot back, her voice a harsh whisper. “You want to talk about fair? You have no idea what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to protect her.”
“Protect her from what?” I asked, genuinely confused.
She hesitated, her eyes darting toward Ava again. For a moment, I thought she might tell me, but then she shook her head.
“This conversation is over,” she said firmly. “Focus on Ava’s surgery, Enzo. That’s all you need to worry about.”
I wanted to push further, but I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere. Not now.
“Fine,” I said, stepping back. “But we’re not done with this, Summer. Not by a long shot.”
She didn’t respond, just turned and walked back to Ava, her posture rigid.
I stayed for a few more minutes, going over the surgery prep with Summer and answering her questions, though she kept her tone strictly professional. Ava, blissfully unaware of the tension between us, showed me her finished drawing before I left.
“It’s amazing,” I told her, genuinely impressed. “I think you might be the next great artist.”
She giggled, her cheeks turning pink.
As I walked out of the room, my thoughts were a mess. Summer was hiding something—something big. And every instinct I had told me Ava was the key to it.
I didn’t know how, but I was going to find out the truth.