The teacher had acted swiftly, rushing Locke to the hospital and contacting Ernest, urging him to come right away.
But Ernest was too far from the city, and with Quentin by his side, he had no choice but to rely on Eric.
“Understood,” Eric assured him. “I’m on my way right now. Don’t worry, Ernest—I’ll see what’s going on and keep you updated.”
“Thank you, Eric!”
Eric tucked away his phone and turned to head back inside.
Hadley noticed the tension clouding his features and immediately sensed that something was wrong. “What is it? Did something happen?” she asked, her tone quick with concern.
Her mind jumped to the plan against Gifford—had something gone awry?
“It’s…” Eric faltered, his eyes flicking toward Elissa. He opened his mouth to speak but then hesitated.
Hadley caught the look, and for a split second, confusion flickered in her eyes—then it clicked. This had something to do with Elissa.
But whether it involved Ernest or Locke, she couldn’t say for sure.
She wasn’t the only one drawing conclusions. Elissa had already sensed the tension.
“What happened?” she asked, her heartbeat accelerating. “Is there something I should know?”
Eric hesitated once again.
Ernest hadn’t known Elissa was at Eric’s place and therefore hadn’t mentioned her.
But now, with Locke involved, Eric knew she needed to be told—no matter how complicated things were.
She was, after all, Locke’s mother. And though she was set to leave in two days, none of that mattered now.
Time was not on their side, and Eric couldn’t afford to hesitate.
Latest stories on ?com
“What’s going on?” Hadley pressed again, her voice rising slightly. “Just spit it out!”
“Alright.” Eric let out a breath, then looked at Elissa and spoke plainly. “It’s Locke. He’s been hurt.”
Upon receiving the news, Elissa leapt to her feet as if yanked by an invisible force, her face draining of color. “What happened? Where is he hurt?”
“I’m still short on the details,” Eric replied. “They took him to the hospital. I’m going there now. Will you come with me?”
“Yes!” Her voice trembled, but her resolve was absolute. If her son was hurt, nothing would keep her from him.
“Daddy!” Joy, who had been quietly listening, suddenly jumped up, waving her arms. “If Locke’s hurt, I want to go too!”
“Joy, sweetheart.” Eric crouched to her level, speaking gently. “I need you to stay here. You’re still healing, and the hospital isn’t safe for you.”
Hospitals, though places of healing, were also full of germs, noise, and strangers—no place for a child in recovery.
.
.
.