Page 35 of Medical Malpractice

He soon became uncomfortable with the silence, wringing his hands together in his lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Austin?”

“Like what?”

“Anything. I want to know everything.”

Then, after a hesitant beat, he gradually opened up his world to me. I found myself laughing, teasing and coaxing for more information. He told me about his siblings, and I showed him photos of my daughters, his half sisters. And when the conversation naturally tapered off, my boy then turned to me with a bright expression and a cheeky side smirk.

“You any good at soccer?”

“Only the best,” I said with a wink. I’d never played a day in my life.

Austin jolted upwards, the ball spinning between his hands. “Come on, then. Let’s see what you got.”

Alright, son, let’s see what I’ve got.

Whose stupid idea was it to agree to this? Oh, that’s right. Mine.

I thought I was playing well. But I soon realised Austin had been going easy on me.

With a quick kick here and a feint there, I was on the ground, squealing like a little bitch, holding onto my ankle.

Maybe I was exaggerating a bit since my lungs were stuttering from the lack of oxygen. Either way, I needed a break, physical exercise suddenly at the top of my priority list.

Austin, on the other hand, had hardly broken a sweat, worry holding him tense and on edge.

I sat upright—no need to scare the boy. “I’m okay. Get me some water, please.”

Austin passed over his water bottle, then slumped to the ground, giving me the side-eye.

“You’ve never played soccer before, have you?”

I chuckled. “I’m more of a football fan, specifically the East Coast Cyclones. Which was also a plus for moving to the city.”

Austin huffed, falling onto his back in the grass. “Damn. Not another one. My uncles are bad enough.”

“Uncles?”

“My Uncle Liam and Uncle Ethan. They’re crazy about football. Don’t shut up about it.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll meet them one day—”

“Sheesh, I didn’t realise how late it is,” Austin exclaimed, head turning towards the lake.

During our afternoon of impromptu sport, I hadn’t noticed the sky transitioning into a burnt orange glow. Sunset was upon us, and our time together was coming to a close.

A sudden desperation took me over. I didn’t want to leave, loath to give up a single second with him.

“We’d better go before Mum comes charging in.”

I hummed, trying to tap down the disappointment. “Can you help me up?”

“Is your ankle still sore?”

“Yeah,” I lied. My ankle was perfectly fine. But I unashamedly used the excuse to be able to hold him close. I had zero regret.

I hoisted myself up as Austin grabbed my arm to hook around his shoulders. He guided me down the path, careful not to jostle me in my—fake—injured state.