Someone Else's Ocean

“IAN.”

I turned to face my ex-wife as she moved toward me at warp speed. “Where is she?”

“In X-ray. She’s got stitches from a large gash in her arm and suffered a nasty break in her right leg.”

Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled a stressed breath. “Are the other girls okay?”

I slipped my hands in my slacks. “Just bumps and scratches. Ella got the worst of it.”

Tara looked at me accusingly. “You couldn’t go with her to X-ray?”

“She didn’t want me to. She’s still in the midst of claiming her independence.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re the parent.”

“Right, so you keep reminding me. Yet I was here first.”

“I was working,” she hissed, a ready defense on her tongue.

I raised a brow. “So that’s what you call it these days?” Tara was an assistant to her new boyfriend, or rather, an old boyfriend that she’d taken up with after our divorce. He was a commercial builder based in Houston.

“I’m sure the boss will have no issue giving you time off considering your duties last long past the five o’clock whistle.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, her sundress lifting enough to see the six-hundred-dollar cowgirl boots I bought for our last anniversary. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were jealous.”

“But you know better,” I said, sounding as bitter as I felt about the situation which had nothing to do with who she was with. It had everything to do with our custody agreement and the fact that I was expecting her to dispute it any day to suit her new ‘professional’ situation. And if the law saw fit, that meant my daughter would leave Dallas because of a man her mother was crazy about.

She gave me a wary glance. “Can we not do this now?”

“Fine. That was petty. I apologize. Ella lost some blood, and they had to give her a transfusion.”

Tara’s face went pale.

“She’s fine,” I assured her. “Thankfully she had been keeping up with her meds, so that helped. I didn’t know her blood type. I felt horrible. How could I not know that? She’s anemic for God’s sake.”

“We only just discovered it when she got her period a few months ago. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Tara swallowed and stared at me with wide eyes. “By the way it’s—”

“Type B, I know now of course.” I moved to sit next to her as she studied me carefully. She was looking for anger. I knew it from years of being with her. What would I be angry about? She flinched as I took the cracked blue plastic seat next to her. The hospital’s bones were dinosaur, but the healthcare was top-notch. It was the only reason I wasn’t crawling out of my skin with worry.

“So, they did a blood test?” she asked quietly, her eyes cast down.

“Actually, I asked for a few tests just in case something like this arose again. The doctor said it’s a good precaution with her condition.”

Tara began shaking next to me, her fearful eyes meeting mine briefly before they flit away.

“What is it, Tara?”

“Ian, I—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Kemp?” The doctor interrupted and we both stood. “She’s going to be fine. We’ve ruled out surgery, managed to set her leg and have given her something mild for the pain.”

I blew out a long breath of relief. “Thank you.”

Tara spoke up. “We were supposed to leave for vacation tomorrow. We’re driving to my parents’ house in Houston. Will she be able to travel?”