“Hadley,” Eric said, turning to her now. “Stay with Joy. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I understand.” Hadley nodded, her gaze following him with worry.
Eric turned to Elissa again. “Let’s go.”
“Right behind you.”
As they made for the door, Savannah, who had stayed silent until now, reached out and gently grasped Elissa’s arm.
“Mom.” Elissa turned to her, thinking she was trying to stop her. Her voice cracked with desperation. “Please—don’t stop me. I have to go. Locke needs me!”
“My dear girl.” Savannah’s reply was calm and tender. “I’m not stopping you. I’m going with you.”
Locke was her grandson, after all—and she had been there when he was born.
Elissa’s breath hitched as tears pooled in her eyes. “Thank you, Mom.”
Outside, the car was already waiting. Eric opened the door quickly. “Please—get in!”
Without delay, the three of them were en route to the hospital, where Locke’s teacher was already waiting.
“Mr. Scott!” the teacher called out nervously as they approached.
Eric gave a curt nod. “Where is he? How is he faring?”
“He’s in Radiology, getting X-rays,” the teacher explained quickly. “The doctor did an initial exam. Aside from some bruises, it looks like he might have a greenstick fracture in his left arm.”
The moment Eric heard the word “fracture,” his expression hardened instantly, his jaw tightening.
His voice dropped to a cold, biting tone. “We trusted your school. We pay your faculty more than anyone else in Srixby. And this is how you care for the children?”
The teacher had no words. They lowered their head in shame. “I’m… terribly sorry, Mr. Scott. This was our mistake. The principal and department head are on their way.”
Eric let out a short, humorless laugh—sharp as a blade. “Will their arrival magically heal my nephew’s arm?”
?: ν﹒
Elissa stood quietly nearby, her chest aching with fury at the school—but her worry for Locke swallowed everything else. Her voice trembled. “Where is he? Which room?”
She wanted nothing more than to wait for him—right at the door, where she would be the first face he saw.
The teacher began to respond, but before he could finish, the examination room doors swung open. A nurse stepped out, gently pushing a gurney into the corridor. On it lay Locke, his small frame cocooned in a thin blue hospital blanket.
“There he is!” Elissa cried out, her voice cracking as her eyes welled with tears. She rushed forward, her heart in her throat. “Locke!”
Locke lay there, still and fragile, his hair damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead in wet strands.
Dried tear tracks streaked his pale cheeks, and his eyes were swollen from crying.
.
.
.