Page 95 of Pumped

“Oh come on. You’re always going on about how you’reDoctorOwen Lambert. This is your chance to show off your skills!”

“I’m not trying to impress my friends with how much I can bench press!” I yell, throwing my hands in the air. “This is our little girl you’re talking about! We should be seeking out the best medical care we can find—forhumans.”

“Boys.”

My head snaps around at the sound of my mom’s voice. I completely forgot she was standing by the bathroom door. Nell is right behind her, hand over her face, shaking her head. See? Even she knows how absurd her son is being.

“Lower your voices. You’re scaring her,” Mom says, eyes stern with warning.

My head snaps around again to find Ivy’s face buried against Everest’s chest. Her shoulders heave as she cries with her arm cradled against her body. Crap.

I drop to my knees and rummage around in the first aid kit for the bottle of children’s Advil. The medication should take the edge off the pain until we can get her in to see a doctor—a doctor trained to treathumans.

I shake out two tablets and coach Ivy through chewing and swallowing, then washing it down with a glass of water.

Mom puts a hand on my shoulder. “Alright boys, how about we find a compromise between a scary emergency room and an animal hospital?”

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’mstill 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 Ihadn’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. Ishould’vedone 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.

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