“The doctor mentioned a social worker,” Marcus said quietly. “You should probably prepare for that conversation. They’re going to have questions about supervision.”
Thomas’s face went pale again. “I’m doing the best I can. Since Maria left, it’s been… everything’s been harder. But I love my kids. I’d never hurt them. I just have to work, and sometimes that means—”
“I get it,” Marcus interrupted. “You don’t have to explain to me. But you’ll need to explain to them. And it might help to have a plan. Something that shows you’re addressing the situation.”
They stood in silence for a moment, two men from completely different worlds connected by a near tragedy and the remarkable courage of an eight-year-old boy.
“The police will probably want to talk to you, too,” Thomas said eventually. “About the accident. I mean, it wasn’t your fault, but—”
“I know the drill,” Marcus said. He’d dealt with cops enough times to understand how these situations played out. “I’ll give a statement, answer their questions. Your kids don’t need any more trouble because of me.”
Thomas studied him with an intensity that reminded Marcus of Ethan. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Yeah, well, I get that a lot.”
Officer Davidson appeared at the end of the hallway, and Marcus straightened instinctively. The officer approached with his partner, a stocky woman with sharp eyes that missed nothing.
“Mr. Cole, Mr. Brennan,” Davidson said, “we need to get official statements from both of you about what happened this afternoon. It won’t take long.”
Marcus nodded, prepared for the tedious process of recounting the same story multiple times while trained law enforcement officers looked for inconsistencies or signs of wrongdoing. But as he followed the officers to a small consultation room, he found his thoughts drifting back to Ethan and Lily, to the fragile family held together by a single father working double shifts and an eight-year-old trying to be the man of the house. It reminded Marcus uncomfortably of his own childhood, the one he’d spent decades trying to forget. The difference was that Ethan had managed to hold on to something Marcus had lost early. Hope. The belief that caring about people was worth the risk, that doing the right thing mattered even when it was terrifying.
Maybe, Marcus thought as he settled into an uncomfortable plastic chair to face the officers’ questions, it wasn’t too late for him to remember that lesson.