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The peel of my tires drew a few dirty looks as I turned out of the parking lot, as did my driving abilities as I broke just about every land speed record from the gym back to the house.
She was probably fine. My daughter, the little shit, climbed everywhere. This was hardly the first time she’d bitten off more than she could chew. But I was used to it. My family was used to it.
Isabel wasn’t.
And that was probably why Anya did it in the first place, to gain her notice. My hands tightened uselessly on the steering wheel. Of course she’d want Isabel’s notice.
I was no better than my daughter because Isabel’s notice was turning me into an animal. At least in my head.
That was something to deal with later, as my foot pressed just a little bit harder on the gas, the roar of the engine matching the energy under my skin.
By the time I pulled onto their street, I felt the same kind of tense, rolling motion in my stomach that I used to get before my fights. It wasn’t nerves, not exactly. It was not knowing the outcome of a short, specific window of time. No outlet of the energy making my feet bounce, no way to take control of the situation yet.
That’s when I saw the red and white of the ambulance in the driveway.
“Oh, God,” I breathed. I wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a prayer or a way to prepare myself for the absolute worst.
The back of the ambulance was open, no one was in sight. I saw a few neighbors standing in their front yard trying to get a glimpse of what was happening.
I yanked the truck up onto the curb and threw the gear shift into park, sprinting around the side of the house into the backyard.
I saw the back of the paramedics first, Emmett standing to the side next. He was wiping tears.
“Anya?” I shouted.
A male paramedic turned and I saw Isabel reclining on the gurney, her arm in the hand of the other medic, blood on her temple, and my daughter wrapped tight in her arms. Anya turned her face to me with a smile, and my panic eased immediately. Her grip never lessened on Isabel.
“What happened?” I asked, running my hand over Anya’s back.
“We fell,” Anya said.
My heart stopped when I saw the broken branch on the grass.
“Your daughter is fine,” the paramedic assured me.
Isabel’s eyes finally met mine, and I saw her apology before she even opened her mouth. “I should’ve been watching them more closely.”
I held up my hand to stop her. “It’s okay, I promise.”
The sight of the cut at her hairline, the way she winced when the female paramedic pressed onto her wrist, it was almost too much.
“Is it broken?” I asked.
The woman turned to me and shook her head. “I don’t think so. But it’s almost impossible to know without getting it checked out at the hospital.”
Isabel’s eyes closed tightly. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
Judging by the look the paramedics shared, this was not the first time she’d said it.
Instead of arguing with the bleeding woman on the gurney, like I wanted to, I turned and set my hand on Emmett’s shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”
He nodded, but I could tell he’d been crying.
The guy tending to Isabel’s forehead gave Emmett a smile. “He was the one who called nine-one-one as soon as they fell.” Isabel hissed when he cleaned around the cut. “I don’t think it needs stitches, but Miss Ward, you very well might have a concussion, I’d strongly advise you to let us take you in.”
Isabel glanced at me, but her eyes didn’t hold mine for very long. “I don’t feel nauseous, I never lost consciousness—”
“That you know of,” the woman wrapping her wrist interjected.
