Page 101 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

Passing it back, she looks to me. “And you are?”

“My wife. She’s my wife.” Trembling, Daire runs his fingers through his hair. “Please, is my son okay?”

“Room six,” she says, her tone gentle, and points. “It’s that one.”

Daire keeps his feet planted and turns to me, blinking. I nod, encouraging him.

Junior is in a room. In the pediatric unit. Not the ER. That has to be a good sign, right?

I put my hand on his back and whisper a gentle “go.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs. With a shuddering breath, he moves forward, his steps brisk, until he reaches the door to room six.

Inside, we both come to an abrupt stop. The social worker we met with this afternoon is standing on one side of the room, along with a police officer.

Daire assesses them and opens his mouth, but before he can speak, movement from the other side of the room catches his attention. Sammy is lying in a crib, wearing nothing but a diaper. He’s hooked up to monitors, but he looks fine, at least on the outside.

“Hey, buddy,” Daire croons, shuffling over and reaching his finger out to the baby.

Sammy stirs, closing his hand around Daire’s finger, his eyes fluttering sleepily.

“Daddy’s here.” The gentleness in Daire’s tone is so painfully sweet.

I take a step closer to the social worker and officer, arms crossed over my chest. “Can someone tell us what’s going on?”

“We’re waiting for your lawyer to arrive,” the social worker tells me. He can’t be more than a few years older than us, but he looks tired. Like he’d rather be anywhere else. “You might as well make yourselves comfortable.” He motions to the chair on my left.

I don’t feel much like sitting, so I step up to the crib beside Daire and run my fingers through Sammy’s downy soft hair.

“It’s weird that Danielle and her husband aren’t here,” I whisper. “Do you think they’re talking to a doctor?”

Daire shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Thankfully, Daire’s lawyer strides in only a few minutes after we arrive. It’s nearly one in the morning, yet her makeup is impeccable and there’s not one wrinkle in her dress suit.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, setting her bag on a plastic chair. Clapping her hands, she turns to where Daire and I stand. “Have they given you any information?”

Daire shakes his head. “I got here as fast as I could after you called.”

“We haven’t been here long,” I add, worry sitting heavy in my gut.

“All right.” Nina tucks her hair behind her ear and clears her throat. “Then I guess it’s up to me to inform you that Mr. and Mrs. Jensen have passed away.”

My heart stops, and I blink, certain I’ve heard her wrong. “Passed away?” I look from her to Daire with a frown. “Like… dead?”

It’s perhaps the dumbest question I could possibly ask, but right now, my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders.

Daire doesn’t take his eyes off his son when he says, “You… you said there was an accident. I thought you meant Sammy was hurt. I didn’t…” He shakes his head. “I didn’t think to ask about them.”

Nina nods solemnly, hands gently folded together in front of her. “It’s why they didn’t arrive for the scheduled meeting. It… um… took a while to get them out of the car and for everything to get settled.” She nods toward the social worker and officer.

Daire rubs the side of his face with his free hand. The other is still occupied with Sammy’s fist wrapped around his index finger. “This is a lot to take in.”

“I understand.” Nina nods. “It’s late. We’ll discuss everything tomorrow. And by tomorrow, I do mean the twenty-sixth. I have to play Santa for my kids.”

Shit. I didn’t even realize it’s already Christmas day.

“So, what happens next? Is Sammy okay?”

---