Chapter 7 Dominic #4
As I leave them, I glance up and down the hallway, checking to see if Tyler is still lurking around.
I would be, and I don’t expect any different of him.
But I don’t spot him anywhere—not in the ER, or the nearby hallways I make a quick loop through, and not in the vending machine area.
I grab us some snacks—especially a Snickers—and get back to the ER as fast as I can, where I find the doctor talking to Briar.
“No fracture. You’ll want to let it rest for a couple of days, so no skating. But by the weekend, he should be okay. Tape it up the first few times he laces up and he should be good. Here’s a printout of how to do it.”
Briar is nodding along like she’s memorizing every word and takes the paper from the doctor, looking it over. From here, I can see that they’re telling her to do a basic figure-eight taping job, something I’ve done and had done to me a thousand times.
The doctor finishes his spiel. “Any questions? Mom? Dad? Harley?” He looks around the room at us.
Briar’s eyes pop open wide as she points at me. “Oh, he’s not—”
The realization hits me like a wrecking ball—the doctor thinks I’m Harley’s father.
Rather than bristling at the mistake, it strangely feels .
. . good? The kid deserves a better dad than the one he has.
I’m not saying it’s me, but I’m not mad at the logical assumption, either, given Briar and I are the ones that brought Harley in.
“Thanks, Doc,” I say, holding a hand out.
When he leaves, Briar turns on me, hissing quietly, “He’s going to think you have some secret love child you’ve kept away from the press for the last nine years. You’re going to end up on ESPN tomorrow now.”
She’s worried about my reputation? At a time like this?
I laugh, shaking my head. “That guy has no idea who I am. Probably doesn’t know a puck from a paperweight.” To Harley, I say, “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah,” he says with a heavy nod. “Mom says I get to skip school tomorrow and go to work with her. Caprice has a new baby.”
“Caprice?” I repeat questioningly.
“One of our siamang gibbons had a baby a couple of months ago. It’s our first on-site birth in years, and we’re monitoring mom, baby, and the whole family unit closely,” Briar explains.
“And Mom says I can sit and watch her tomorrow so I stay off my ankle since it’s so late on a school night,” Harley says excitedly.
“I could watch a gibbon tomorrow too,” I suggest casually. “I don’t have practice and you two are like the only people I know here.”
“Shouldn’t you be reaching out to Kipson?” Briar asks, her tone taking on a scolding edge.
“Forget Kipson. There’s a baby . . .” I trail off, leaning toward Harley for my cue.
“Sia. Mang. Gibbon,” he supplies, slowly sounding it out for me through the conspiratorial grin he’s wearing.
“Sia-manga gibbon to observe,” I finish, intentionally mispronouncing it slightly to get a laugh out of Harley. It works perfectly.
Briar shakes her head. “You two are something else.”
Harley whispers to me, “That means yes.”
I grin and hold a fist to him. When he bumps it, I wink at Briar, who looks amused by our antics. And confused by me. “You don’t have to do that,” she argues.
“I know. I want to. Friends go to the zoo. It’s a thing, I think,” I shrug like it’s not a big deal. But we both know it is.
“So this is . . . what? A friendly outing?”
“Call it whatever helps you sleep tonight.”
I’m weaving myself deeper and deeper into her life and into Harley’s life, and that’s scary to her. But I’m not Tyler. I’m me, and if I can help tomorrow go a little better for her and Harley, that’s what I’m going to do.
It doesn’t hurt that the smile stealing across Briar’s face right now feels like sunshine filling this cold, sterile room.
“Can a friend get a ride home then too?” she asks.
“Absolutely. It’ll only cost you one bite of Snickers.” I glance at the candy I haven’t even given her yet.
She laughs, and after a night like tonight, that feels like a big win. “If I give you half, can I add a stop at whatever drive-through is open?”
I grab at my stomach. “As long as you don’t judge me for getting a triple meat, triple cheese, lettuce-wrap burger.
I didn’t eat dinner, either, and I’m a growing boy.
” I wink with the double entendre and she scrunches her face up.
Reaching over to smooth the delicate wrinkles between her eyes, I whisper, “You’re judging. ”
“No. I don’t care how many greasy, artery-clogging patties—”
Leaning in extraclose, I rumble, “I like the way you look when you pretend not to care.”
A smile grows on her face. “Fine, you can eat whatever monstrosity of cheeseburger you want. Just gimme that Snickers.”
I hold it up, teasingly high, but I only make her reach for it once before handing it over. I want her to eat, to take care of herself, and maybe, let me take care of her a little too. It’s what I’m good at, and I don’t think she’s had anyone do that for her in a long time. Maybe ever.
“Uh-oh, Harley. I think we’re too late. She’s getting hangry.”