Page 53 of Owned By The Cowboy
At urgent care, I’m filling out forms with information I’m surprised to realize I know: Nia’s birthday, allergies. When did I even memorize this stuff?
“You’re really good at this,” she observes.
I raise my gaze from the clipboard in my hand. “Good at what?”
She lifts her chin toward the forms. “The dad thing.”
The comment hits me square in the chest, and I feel my eyes bug out. “I’m not…”
“Yeah, you are. You dropped everything to come get me. You know all my information. You’re sitting here reading parenting magazines.”
I look down at the empty chair next to mine, where I left a magazine open. Sure enough, there’s a “Family Circle” with an article about teenage nutrition…
“Shut up,” I tell her, but I’m grinning huge. Like a fool.
Nia bumps my shoulder with hers, grinning back. “It’s okay.” Her expression sobers when she adds, “you’re better at it than my dad…”
“Nia…”
She shrugs again, this time with her head bowed. “He never came to any of our school stuff. Didn’t know any of our friends or teachers’ names. Definitely didn’t take me to the doctor when I was hurt.”
“That’s his loss, sweetheart.”
She straightens in her chair, looking me straight in the eye with a serious nod. “His loss, your gain.”
This girl… I wrap an arm around her shoulder and give her an affectionate squeeze.
* * *
The X-ray shows it’s just a sprain, thank God. The doctor gives Nia a brace and crutches and orders no volleyball for a week.
“But we have a tournament on Friday,” she protests.
“Not happening, missy. You need to let this heal.”
She grumbles a reluctant “thank you” on our way out of the exam room.
“There’ll be other tournaments,” I tell her as we leave.
“I guess.”
“You hungry?” I’m hoping food will cheer her up.
“I could eat.”
I take her to the diner because the food’s amazing but also because Rosie will fuss over her. And sure enough, as soon as we walk in, Rosie comes over.
“What happened, honey?”
“Volleyball injury. Nothing too bad,” Nia replies with a small smile.
“Well, you just sit right there. What can I get you?”
I order a burger. Nia, a salad.
“A salad?” Rosie looks offended. “Child, you’re injured. You need real food. Bring her the chicken dumplings and a milkshake.”
“I don’t really,” Nia starts.
