Page 16 of Insta-Love

EIGHT

Bowen

The smell of hospitals makes me sick. Not in the nauseous “this smell is too strong” way, but in the “if I don’t get out of here I’m going to be found rocking in a corner” way. Too many memories—none of them good. Too many reasons why these sorts of visits were the exact reason I started working out. I never wanted to come back.

Yet here I am.

And there she is, her daughter curled on her lap with her bad leg extended to rest on the seat beside them. Lily’s eyes are closed as Ava strokes her hair in an even rhythm. It’s a picture I wish I could say brought back warm memories, but when you can’t remember a single time you ever received comfort as a child it tends to do more the opposite.

I stare down the sterile hall instead and memorise every damn sign I can find.

“Bowen.”

The whispered word breaks up my unease somewhat.

“Yeah?”

Ava smiles almost apologetically and jerks her head, indicating I should move from where I sit opposite, to beside her. I cross to the chair beside Lily’s feet and grip my left bicep with my right hand, legs splayed, unsure how I should act.

“I’m sorry for being so snappy and ungrateful.” She glances away at an old man who shuffles from behind automatic doors. The words are clearly hard for her to say. “I acted a little too defensively. I just … I hate when people automatically assume I’m a bad mother because I’m young.”

“You’re not a bad mother, Ava.” She’s the type I wish I’d had. “I guess I should give you this back now.” She watches with a slight frown as I roll on to my left side and pull her phone from my back pocket.

Her slender fingers wrap around it, brushing mine in the exchange. Hurt crosses her features when I yank my hand away and stuff it under my armpit. If only I could explain that it’s not so much her fault, as mine. People like her, mothers with a kid to care for, and guys like me? They don’t mix. Our worlds are miles apart, and not for the reasons she probably thinks.

“Lily Maitland?” I snap my attention to the middle-aged nurse who stands with a cardboard file in her hand.

“Yes,” Ava answers, struggling to help Lily off her lap.

I’ve got the girl in my arms before I realise what I’m doing. Yet again, helping seems to come naturally when I’m around these two. “Which way?”

The nurse ushers us through a rabbit warren of hallways and doors to a pale blue examination room that has two beds either side and an array of wheelie carts stocked with all sorts of things tucked away in sterile packs.

The nurse gestures to one of the two unoccupied beds, and I carefully set Lily down. She gives me the oddest lop-sided smirk as she removes her arm from around my neck and whispers, ‘Thank you.”

All I can do is nod and retreat to where I think I won’t be in the way. Ava takes the seat beside the bed. Mere seconds pass before a guy in green scrubs stops at the foot of the bed.

“Not how you’d planned your evening?” He asks jovially.

I envy the way he so naturally lightens the mood. Even more how he can make Ava smile. It hits me square in the chest that I’ve never seen her do it given our tense interactions.

It’s beautiful.

My loud swallow echoes around the silent space as the doc places the cardboard file on the foot of the bed and reaches for the curtain. I shift between my feet, conscious nobody has asked if I’m family yet. I assumed I’d be kicked out at some stage, and am about to offer to head out to the waiting room when primal protection instincts kick in. The doc has his hands on Lily’s ankle as he examines the injury, and the pained whimper she lets out has my fist clenched at my side. He’s just doing his job, Bowen. Calm your shit.

“If I turn it this way, can you tell me if that hurts worse than the left, or less?”

He gently rotates her ankle, and Lily screams out. Ava’s on her feet, hands wrapped over Lily’s as she grips her mother with white-knuckle tenacity.

Just doing his job. My mind rationales this, but my heart still beats too fast.

“I think we may have a break, young lady. We’ll send you through for an x-ray and go from there.” The doc tucks a finger under the hem of Lily’s skinny jeans and gives them a little tug as he smiles. “Hope you’re not fond of these, I’m sorry. We’ll need to cut them off to save doing any more damage pulling them over your foot.”

Lily nods, her pearly white teeth biting into her bottom lip.

“Whatever needs to be done,” Ava assures the doc.

He leaves with a polite nod, and Lily starts to cry. My stomach is in knots.

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