By the time Max exited the building, not even the cold north wind could douse the fire inside.
For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to hope for a brighter future.
Max turned into the drive, noting Sky’s Taurus in its usual spot, but the house was dark. Disappointment turned to delight when he saw her through his kitchen window. He didn’t really think she would use the key. A rare smile tugged up one corner of his mouth, and his heart rate escalated. He couldn’t remember the last time he was happy to be home.
The aromas assailing his nostrils stopped him cold when he entered the kitchen. “I don’t know what you’ve been cooking, but it smells wonderful in here.”
She whirled around at his entrance. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d be done before you got home.” She glanced at the clock and then back at him.
Her voice held a note of unease he hadn’t heard before. She stood in front of his seldom-used stove, an apron tied around her waist and a small towel tossed over one shoulder, hands encased in what looked like oversized mittens. Her face glistened with a light sheen of perspiration, and several curls escaped a lop-sided ponytail and clung to her neck. Her cheeks boasted a bright shade of pink, whether from the heat or something else, he couldn’t say.
She was a beautiful sight to behold.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, they closed early. The holiday and all.”
She jumped when something dinged behind her, then twisted around and opened the oven door.
He watched in fascination as those mitten-clad hands reached inside and pulled out a rectangle dish and placed it on top of the stove.
His mouth watered as the enticing smell of cinnamon and sugar wafted toward him. “Is that what I think it is?”
A tentative smile greeted his question. “Peach cobbler. You said it was your favorite, so I made a big one. Thought you might be able to eat on it for a couple of days.”
With two long strides, he stood in front of the stove, head bent, inhaling deeply. “If it tastes half as good as it smells, it may not last that long.”
She chuckled as she removed the mittens and placed them on the counter. “Well, I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Tink?”
The smile vanished and worry knitted her brow. “She’s watching TV in the living room.” She folded her arms around her middle. “She’s not been herself today. I thought she might be getting sick again, but she’s not running a fever. I hope you don’t mind. About the TV, I mean.”
“Of course not. Is there anything I can do?” He didn’t know much about Maddie’s history beyond that she had some medical issues. The thought of her being ill made his mouth go dry.
Sky straightened and shook her head. “No. We’re fine. Sometimes cold weather causes her asthma to act up. I’m sure that’s all it is.” She looked around the kitchen as though cataloging what she saw, then turned back to Max. “I think I have everything ready for tomorrow. I’ll put the turkey on at my house, and we’ll get it when it’s time.”
“Is there anything you need me to do?” He kept his expression neutral as he added, “besides test that peach cobbler?”
The smile froze on her face as their eyes met.
The connection was so strong, the pull so magnetic, he had to force himself not to close the distance between them.
When her gaze dropped to his lips and jerked up again, he reminded himself to breathe.
Do I have the right to do this? What if Dr. Bellamy is wrong? “…Sky…”
Before he could force the words out, Maddie entered the kitchen. One look at her usually cheerful face, and Max understood Sky’s concern. He took a step toward the table. “Hey, Tink. You okay?”
Red-rimmed sapphire eyes darted from Sky and then to him. She drew in a jerky breath and paused. “Is PTSD like cancer, Max? Are you gonna die?”
“Maddie!”
Even Sky’s sharp tone didn’t penetrate the roar in his ears.
Maddie ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I don’t want you to die!”
“Madeline Adele—”
Maddie squeezed tighter, the words pouring out as her tiny body trembled with sobs. “Miss Gail said it was like cancer and sucked the life out of you.”
Max couldn’t move. Didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t prepared for this conversation. Especially not with a kid. His heart pounded, and he forced himself to focus on controlling the encroaching panic.
Several moments passed before he could speak. He pulled her arms away and took a step back.
Her lips trembled, and another sob escaped as she watched him with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen.
“Let’s sit down.” He whispered and didn’t wait for a reply as he dropped into a chair at the table, nor did he look up as Maddie and Sky joined him.
“Max…” Sky’s stricken voice found its way through the fog. “I’m so sorry. Maddie—”
“No.” The single word sounded harsh even to him, and he tried to soften it. “It’s okay.” He looked at Maddie, whose shuddering breaths continued. “I’m okay, Tink. I’m not going to die.” He looked at Sky and took a deep breath. “But I do have PTSD.”
Sky heard what he said but didn’t really process it at first. She knew about PTSD of course but had never actually known anyone who had it. Max seemed perfectly normal to her. Try as she might, she couldn’t dredge up anything on the subject.
“I’ve been undergoing treatment since I got home.”
