Page 117 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

She rocks Sammy, watching me struggle to open the stroller. “Need some help?”

“No.” Hands on my hips I glower at the folded-up monstrosity. “I can handle this.”

I push the buttons on either side and lift, then shake it, but it doesn’t release.

She cocks her head to the side, lips pursed. “I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.”

“No. This is right.” I shake it again, and the thing stays locked.

Sammy gives out a small, irritated cry.

“Shh,” Rosie hushes sweetly. “I know you’re cold. Your daddy is being stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn,” I bite out between my teeth. “I just know I can do this.”

“Mhm. Sammy and I will head on in and wait for you where it’s warm.”

“Good idea.” I lean over, pressing a kiss to Sammy’s beanie-covered head. “I won’t be long.”

She gives me a skeptical look, one brow raised, that I ignore.

It takes me fifteen minutes and the help of a guy walking by who says he has the same stroller to get it opened up. I try not to think about what kind of struggle I might have folding it up again. That’s a problem for future Daire.

Inside the mall, I text Rosie to ask where she is.

Rosie: Food court.

Heading that way, I scan the people I pass, looking for anyone I recognize. I don’t know why I care—after my recorded meltdown, practically the entire campus knows I have a kid.

My stomach roils at the memory of all the alcohol I drank that night.

Never again.

The mall is packed with people shopping and returning Christmas gifts, so it takes far longer than it should to navigate the empty stroller to the food court. I search the crowded tables for Rosie and find her waving her arm to get my attention.

Parking the stroller beside the table, I pull out a chair and plop down.

“Took you long enough,” she snickers. There’s a cup of Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets in front of her.

I snag one and pop it into my mouth with a grin.

“Hey, those are mine. Get your own.” She swats my hand when I reach for another.

“Nice try.” I bite into my successfully stolen second piece. “I forgot how good these are.”

Laughing, she puts Sammy in the stroller and straps him in. “I always get them when I’m at the mall. It’s a tradition. Right, Sammy?” She taps the baby’s nose.

He giggles and reaches for her finger. She smiles at him as he holds tight, but when he tries to bring it to his mouth, she gently pries his fingers loose.

I take a third pretzel bite, earning myself another glare. “I can get you more.”

She perks up. “Before we leave?”

“Sure.” I make a mental note to swing back by here and get another order to take with us.

“Will you FaceTime my mom with me?”

The idea of telling her mother about Sammy fills me with dread—not because of what she might say or think about me, but because there’s a good chance she’ll say something hurtful to Rosie. I won’t be able to hold back if she does.

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