“Mr. and Mrs. Banks?” A middle-aged woman calls from the hallway.
Jules shoots to her feet before I can even react, hand raised. “That’s us.”
I don’t miss the way she practically vibrates with nerves.
“Please follow me,” the woman says, offering a sympathetic smile.
“What happened?” Jules inhales sharply as we step into the hall.
I place a hand on her lower back—a steadying touch, nothing more—as the woman leads us toward an open office.
“Wait in here,” she instructs. “Mrs. Whitney will be in shortly to explain everything.”
“When can we see Tate?” Jules and I ask at the same time.
“He’ll be in with Mrs. Whitney,” she assures us. “He’s in the nurse’s office right now, but he’ll be done soon.”
Jules visibly pales. “Nurse’s office?” Her voice cracks. She presses both hands against her head, hazelnut eyes locking onto mine, stormy and wild. “Do you think he’s hurt?”
“I don’t know.” And that’s the truth. But the uncertainty sits heavy between us.
Jules exhales sharply and turns away, pacing a tight circle.
“This is all my fault.” She chokes on her words. “I should have had breakfast with him. I should have said goodbye to him. I should have—”
“Jules,” I say her name quietly.
She stops and swallows hard. “What?”
I hesitate. Then open my arms. “Come here.”
For a moment, she doesn’t move. Something in my chest pulls tight. Then, finally, she steps forward. She presses her forehead against my chest, arms tentatively wrapping around my waist.
God, she smells the same. Coffee beans. Vanilla.Hope.
My fingers slide into her curls, careful not to disturb the flowers.
“I feel like a bad mom,” she whispers.
I pull her closer. “This is not your fault.”
Her breath hitches. “But if I’d just—”
“We don’t even know what happened yet.”
Her grip tightens. Then, softer this time. “If anyone hurt him…” She doesn’t finish the thought. She doesn’t have to.
I smother a smirk against the top of her head. “I know.”
Because no one messes with her kid.
Withourkid.
The door creaks open. Tate rushes in, his sneakers squeaking against the tile. The second he sees us—Jules and me, still wrapped up in each other—he instantly lights up.
“Mom!” His face is full of relief as Jules pulls away from me, dropping to her knees in front of him.
Her hands cup his cheeks, her thumbs brushing against a darkening bruise beneath his left eye. Her breath shudders. “What happened?”
