“Is Max gonna be your daddy?”
“What? No. I mean, he’s a friend and all but no, nothing like that.”
There was another short pause before Maddie spoke again.
“I wonder why he didn’t say goodbye before he left? We didn’t get to pick out our tree or ride the wagon or anything.”
“He probably thinks y’all are mad at him.”
“Why would he think that?”
“He got into a fight.”
Sky heard the indignation in Maddie’s voice as she spoke up.
“So what? Max didn’t start it. That poopie head Mr. Jackson did! And you were gonna fight him, too. I saw you.”
“Yeah, well, he was talking about my mother.”
“I bet he don’t do that again,” said Maddie firmly. “Max will kick his butt.”
Logan snickered. “You’re a pistol.”
Sky decided now was a good time to intervene. “Snack time.” She walked in and placed the tray on the coffee table.
“I’ll be right back,” said Maddie as she left the room.
Assuming she was going to the bathroom, Sky set the goodies down and joined Logan on the couch.
Max winced and pushed himself up from the bed and limped toward the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of alcohol and some gauze from the bathroom on his way. He needed strong coffee, sooner rather than later. The shower could wait.
He placed the meager first aid supplies on the table. As he filled the carafe with water, he spared a quick glance toward Sky’s kitchen. She walked through the door toward the hall that led to the living room, a tray in her hands.
He assumed it was hot chocolate and popcorn—Maddie’s favorite treat, one they’d enjoyed just last week watching some cartoon movie the child wanted to watch.
He pulled himself away from the window and started the coffee. As he headed toward the bathroom, a light knock pulled him to the back door.
He frowned. I thought I’d left it unlocked for Logan.
Only it wasn’t Logan on the other side.
It was Maddie.
“Can I come in, please? We need to talk.”
She stalked in without waiting for a reply and stood by the table.
Max looked outside, then shut the door. “Does your mom know where you are?”
When he turned around, her blue eyes widened until the whites were visible all the way around. “Oh Max, you’re really hurt.”
Suddenly self-conscious, he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Tink. I’m a mess.”
She came over and took his hand, pulling him back to a chair at the table. When he sat down, she stood beside him, one hand on his shoulder, one still holding the hand she led him by.
Head down, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing got past the lump in his throat. Nausea rolled in his stomach, and he clenched his jaw tight, willing the contents to remain where they were. His other hand rolled into a tight fist on his thigh.
The silence didn’t last long.
Maddie delicately patted his shoulder. “I’m so sorry you got hurt, Max.”
He got hurt? She was worried about him?
To keep her from having to look at his bloody and swollen face, he kept his head averted. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, Tink.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before he could continue. “And I’m so sorry I scared you and that you got hurt and I—”
“I didn’t get hurt. But I was scared. A little. At first anyway, cause Mr. Jackson is a bad man, and I was afraid he might hurt you. But I should have known better cause you’re a soldier, and you know about fighting, and he’s a dipstick, and I’m glad you beat him up.” A quick intake of breath, and she continued. “But don’t tell Mama I said I was glad you hit him. Even though I think he deserved it.”
What?
He straightened and faced her, only to duck his head again, ashamed of how he looked.
She calmly put a finger under his chin and turned his face to hers.
All four-foot-nothing-Maddie-on-a-mission met his one-eyed gaze. “He said bad things about Logan’s mother, and he made me fall down, so you kicked his butt. That’s what heroes do.”
“H-heroes?”
