Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
The scream that rips out of her makes my skin break out in a wave of goose bumps. I rush over, climbing through the bars to get to her.
She’s sobbing, sucking in big gasping breaths and wailing at the top of her lungs. I cross my fingers that she didn’t break anything. I drop to my knees in the gravel beside her and pull a tissue from my pocket, dabbing at her eyes. She’s clutching her ankle, and tears are streaming down her face.
“Hey, hey. I’m here.” I smooth her hair back from her face, trying to get her to focus on me. “What hurts, honey?”
“My ankle! I want Daddy!” she cries out.
“I know, sweetie. Let me take a look, okay?”
I roll up her pant leg. I can already see a bruise forming at her ankle, but I can’t tell if it’s broken or just a sprain or what. I finally get her to calm down, but when she tries to put pressure on her ankle to stand, she breaks into tears all over again.
It’s getting dark fast, so when I finally get her out of the climber, I fireman carry her across the park. She’s not particularly heavy, but she’s almost ten and I’m on the short side, so I’m not the best candidate for carrying a near-tween. But I finally get her back to my car and buckled into the back seat. I make sure she’s as comfortable as she can be considering the pain she’s in. The tears have slowed to a trickle instead of a full-on waterfall. Peyton isn’t one for dramatics outside of when she’s in a play, so I know she’s really hurt herself.
As soon as I’m in the car, I call Gavin to let him know that Peyton had a fall and that we’re on our way to the closest urgent care.
I feel sick to my stomach that Peyton got hurt on my watch. Especially how she got hurt. Gavin is forever warning her to be careful on that climber, and he never lets her go on it when it’s been raining. I should have been paying closer attention. All I can do is hope that she didn’t break anything and that whatever the injury is, it will heal quickly.
Twenty-Five
MORE THAN JUST A FALL
GAVIN
The panic in Harley’s voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“Peyton fell at the park and hurt her ankle. I’m on my way to urgent care right now.”
“How badly? Is it broken?” I grab my keys and jacket and head for the door, leaving my laptop open and my design plans on my drafting table.
“I don’t know. It’s bruised and swelling, and she can’t put weight on it. We’re at the one a few blocks from your place. Can you meet us there?”
“I’m on my way right now.” I end the call without saying goodbye and pause in Ian’s office door to let him know I’m leaving. “Peyton had a fall at the park and Harley’s taking her to urgent care.”
He pushes out of his chair. “Is she okay?”
“She hurt her ankle, that’s all I know.”
“Hopefully it’s just a sprain. Give me a call later and let me know how it goes and if there’s anything Lynn and I can do to help.”
I nod and then I’m off, down the hall and into the elevator. A strange numb feeling settles over me. I don’t particularly love the doctor, or anything that resembles medical treatment or care. The last time I set foot in a hospital was when Peyton was born, and while I love my daughter, that day is also one of the saddest of my life. I gained a daughter and lost my partner. So while I’m aware that Peyton isn’t in grave danger, I also thought my wife was going to be fine after the birth of our daughter.
No one expected her heart to fail during labor, or for the doctors to be unable to safely deliver Peyton and keep Marcie alive. I shake my head and blow out a steadying breath, trying to keep my focus on the road and not on the past. Peyton is going to be fine. Kids have accidents all the time. But the memories I’ve shoved to the back of the closet and closed the door on are pushing to the surface, none of them easy to handle.
The drive to urgent care seems to take forever, even though I get there in less than twenty minutes. By the time I arrive I’m sweaty and clammy. It’s hard to focus on the receptionist, but eventually I manage to explain. “My daughter, Peyton Rhodes, was brought here by my girlfriend. She’s nine. She hurt her ankle?” I say the last part as a question because I don’t have a lot of information about her injury.