pantry. The way she liked to stock up at the warehouse store, she probably had enough crackers in there to keep each family in town alive in case of Armageddon.
“See?” he asked Bree, who’d yet to look at him. He knelt in front of her and checked her complexion—and hoped like hell she didn’t throw up. “Why don’t you go upstairs, get your pajamas on while I find us a movie to watch?”
“I don’t want to stay here.” Her voice broke. She raised her head and his stomach cramped to see tears in her eyes. It killed him when she cried. “I want my mom.”
He flinched. Her real meaning as clear as if she kicked him in the teeth then spit in his eye.
I don’t want you.
He exhaled heavily and straightened. “Then I guess I’d better take you home.”
CHAPTER SIX
MADDIE LIFTED HER HEAD when headlights illuminated her darkening kitchen. They were here. Thank God. She closed her laptop, then stood and padded across her kitchen to the back door, the wood floor cold under her bare feet. She no sooner opened the door when Bree came at her like a missile.
“Whoa,” Maddie said, catching her balance as Bree wrapped her arms around Maddie’s waist with enough force to make a python envious. “Hey, hey.” She rubbed Bree’s back. “What’s the matter?”
Against Maddie’s chest, Bree shook her head.
“You aren’t sure?” Maddie asked, used to her daughter’s head shakes, shrugs and I-don’t-knows. “Or you couldn’t possibly say?”
“She’s not feeling well.”
Maddie looked over Bree’s head to find Neil filling the doorway, Bree’s pink backpack small and incredibly girlie-looking in his hand. Wish she could say the same for the man holding the bag, but he was too big and broad to be considered either.
“I got that much from your phone call.” The one he’d made fifteen minutes ago as she’d stepped out of the shower. He’d told her he was bringing Bree home. “You can just leave her bag on the table. Thanks,” she added, in case he missed the hint that she didn’t want him hanging around.
He stepped inside far enough to put the bag on the chair closest to him then turned around. But instead of taking off—his usual M.O. when things didn’t go his way—he shut the door. Leaning against it, he crossed his arms, his expression set in a way that made it clear she’d need something more drastic than a snide hint to get him moving.
She brushed Bree’s short hair from her forehead. “What hurts?”
Please, God, don’t let it be strep throat again. When Bree had it last September, it’d been so bad, she’d cried herself to sleep. Maddie had cried right along with her.
Bree met Maddie’s eyes briefly. Scratched her right eyebrow. “My stomach,” she finally mumbled to a point somewhere over Maddie’s left shoulder.
Her stomach. Uh-huh.
Maddie studied her daughter’s face. Her cheeks were pink but she wasn’t feverish. It wasn’t the flu, food poisoning or a twenty-four-hour bug. No, her eyebrow scratching and gaze averting meant only one thing.
Bree was lying.
She sucked at it, though Maddie supposed she could give her daughter points for effort. And she had fooled Neil.
Then again, he didn’t know Bree. Not as well as Maddie did.
“Stomachache, hmm?” Maddie asked, noting the mix of guilt and defiance on Bree’s face as she nodded.
Maddie should call her on it. Have Bree apologize for lying to her father and making him bring her home. She should force her daughter to spend at least a few more hours with him, if not the entire night.
But Bree was looking at her as if she’d been sentenced to burn at the stake and Maddie was the only person in the entire world with a working hose.
Why did being a parent have to be so hard sometimes? Maddie knew what her own parents would have done. But it was different for them. They had each other to rely on, to lean on. When it came to their kids, they’d made every decision, good or bad, together. Despite the tall, brooding man taking up too much space in her kitchen, Maddie was on her own as a parent. All she could do was what she’d always done—trust her instincts.
And remember that Neil had been the one who’d left.
“Why don’t you change into your pajamas and get in bed,” she said to Bree. “I’ll bring you some ginger ale in a few minutes.”
If Bree’s sigh of relief—one that ruffled Maddie’s damp hair—didn’t clue Neil to the fact that he’d been