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“There you are, Grant! Looks like you’re over here making friends without me.” She smiled at Blue and Tristan, completely ignoring Brody. “You must be the Marians. I’ve heard quite a bit about you from a couple of the Mountbatten moms—Meera and Candy.”
“You mean Candace,” Brody corrected quietly. “She was president of the PTA at the girls’ old school, and one of her kids is friends with Mia.”
Liza visibly bristled and flicked a glance in Brody’s direction. “Close enough.” She shrugged.
“Actually.” Brody gave her a rueful little smile. “I got her name wrong once, four years ago, and she put me in charge of the school’s pet parade that spring. I promise, if you’d had to wrangle seven purebred corgis, three rottweilers, two ferrets, seventeen cats, and a parakeet on a march around the school grounds, you wouldn’t make that mistake twice.”
Blue, Tristan, and Gwen laughed out loud, and Liza’s expression thawed several degrees.
“Candace, then,” she repeated. “I’ll learn.”
“Brody can help you,” Gwen said pointedly.
I reached for Brody and wove our fingers together, then lifted his hand to press a kiss over his wedding band.
I felt the surprise jolt through him at this public display of affection, and that only made me more confident that Brody needed reassurance… and that I really needed to get him alone so I could offer him his freedom and hope like hell he refused it.
Brody’s gaze drifted over my shoulder toward the field, and he immediately wrenched his hand from my grip.
“Cleo!” he shouted, bolting out onto the field.
What?
Despite being trained and experienced in medical trauma and known for being cool under pressure, it took me several more seconds to process what was happening. It wasn’t until Brody had reached Cleo, dispersing the children who’d clustered around her, that I noticed Cleo’s hand was caught in part of her robot, and blood dripped down her arm onto the grass.
“Liza, call for an ambulance. Gwen, grab my bag from the car,” I shouted, remembering to toss her the keys from my pocket. I took off after Brody, who was already kneeling in the grass beside my daughter.
“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured calmly to her as he raised his arm to support her in case she fainted. He braced the forearm of her trapped hand and glanced frantically around. “Grant? Grant!”
I knelt next to them and carefully determined the least damaging way to get her hand unstuck from the gear it was caught in. “Hang on, sweetheart,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as shaky as I felt. “Take slow breaths, and lean into Brody. He’s got you.”
The robotics teacher knelt on Cleo’s other side, apologizing frantically and holding out a selection of tools to determine which could help remove the gear from the contraption. I grabbed a screwdriver and quickly unscrewed the gear from its housing before it loosened enough to release Cleo’s hand. Meanwhile, Brody continued to speak in soothing tones, reassuring Cleo she was okay, telling her how brave she was, and assuring her that her dad was the best doctor in the area.
Right now, her dad felt like a fumbling idiot, but thankfully, Gwen showed up with my medical kit, and I focused on the steps needed to get her wound stabilized so we could transport her to the hospital for X-rays and sutures. The skin was torn, alternately bleeding and white where her hand had been pinched between the teeth. I racked my brain, trying to decide which hand specialist I trusted most with her care.
Sirens indicated the ambulance was approaching. Thankfully, Liza seemed to be in the parking lot directing them rather than hovering in the crowd that had gathered around Cleo. I cleaned the wound and bandaged it temporarily to help control the bleeding and keep it clean while we transported her to the hospital. I knew as soon as I arrived at the emergency room, professional protocol would force me to take a step back and let the trauma surgeon on shift take over her care.
Who was it? Who would be the physician in charge?
“Dad?” Jacey’s terrified voice cut through my mental scrambling. She raced over hand in hand with Mia from the school’s playground. “What happened? Is she okay?”
The EMTs arrived at the exact same time, with Liza frantically explaining what had happened. The robotics teacher stood up to give them room to begin assessing Cleo.
“She needs to go to the ER,” I explained to Jacey as calmly as possible. Poor Mia’s eyes were wide as saucers. “She’ll be okay, but we need to take a look with the equipment at the hospital to be sure. Aunt Gwen will take you girls home, and I’ll call as soon as I have more information.”
Cleo was trying to be brave, crying into Brody’s sleeve and clutching his arm with her free hand. He was amazing, holding and comforting her without babying her while explaining the situation to the EMTs.
I took over, using more specific language about the possible compression fracture of her fourth and fifth metacarpals and the laceration caused by the sharp gears. When they indicated it was time to load her into the ambulance, Brody offered to carry her since she was basically already in his arms.
It wasn’t until he’d set her inside the ambulance and tried to find a seat next to her that we both realized Liza had already taken the only one available for a parent.
“No,” I said, gesturing her out. “I’ll go with her. I know her medical history, and I have her insurance information. You two take my car. Gwen has the keys.”
It wasn’t until hours later, when X-rays had shown no evidence of fracture and Cleo’s hand had been stitched up by one of the best in the business, that I realized Brody hadn’t arrived at the hospital with Liza.
“Where is he?” I asked my ex-wife, peering behind her into the ER waiting room as we accompanied Cleo in the wheelchair to the exit doors. “Didn’t Brody ride with you?”
She shook her head. “He had his own car. Said he knew Cleo was in good hands.”
