“Nice night,” she said and inwardly cursed how breathless she sounded. She cleared her throat and oh-so-casually shifted, putting as much distance as the bench—and her pride—would allow. “How’d you get roped into bringing the boys over here?”
“I volunteered.”
She glanced at him, watched the flicker of light flash across his profile. “We’ll have to get you the Mr. Helpful Award.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to see Bree home. It only made sense that I take the boys, too.”
“What did you do, toss them in the trunk?”
“I took Fay’s minivan since she and Shane were going in his car. Looks like they’re getting back together.”
Though she tried, she really did, she couldn’t stop a snort from escaping.
“You don’t think that’s a good idea?”
She thought Fay was a fool for giving Shane the chance to hurt her again. “I’m keeping my opinion to myself from now on.”
She felt his surprise. “Really? How’s that working for you?”
“It’s killing me.”
But Fay had made it very clear she didn’t want or need Maddie’s most excellent advice. Maybe Neil was right. Maybe she did roll right over people. The thought made her throat hurt, so she took another drink and settled against the back of the bench. Hopefully the shadows would swallow her, hide the fact that her hair was coming out of her braid, her mascara was smudged under her eyes and the rest of her makeup had long ago melted off.
All of which she was sure Neil, of the eagle eye, had noticed. Not that she cared. It was just that she was tired. And quickly heading toward grumpy.
Why wouldn’t she be? It was late and she’d just wrestled forty pounds of wiry boy into the tub, scrubbed him, washed his hair three times and wrangled him into a pair of Cars underwear—the only clothing she could get on him. Even dried off the kid was slippery.
Maddie’s shirt was soaked and stuck to her skin. She had a blister on her pinkie toe thanks to those stupid wedged sandals she’d worn to the picnic, and all she wanted was to slip into a cool, silk nightgown and crawl into bed. Not hang out on her porch like some all-you-can-eat bug buffet.
But she refused to ask Neil why he’d insisted on staying, refused to let him think she was curious or concerned or interested in the slightest in his reasons.
Proud of her self-restraint, she lifted her beer in a silent toast to herself then took a drink.
If he didn’t say something—recite the alphabet or break into song or spout hockey stats...God...anything and soon—she was going to scream.
“Thank you,” he said after what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to a few minutes. “For bringing Bree to the picnic.”
Anything but that.
She bobbled the bottle in her hand, set it between her thighs before she dropped it. She didn’t want his gratitude. Didn’t deserve it. Not when she’d erased his message, the one he’d left yesterday. Not when she’d planned on forgetting all about it. On not telling Bree that he’d called, that he’d wanted her there.
It was a mistake. Another one. She’d been angry...God...it felt as if she was always angry. She’d spent the past twelve years letting fury and resentment control her when she’d promised herself never to let any emotion do that to her again.
She’d wanted to hurt him. To prove that she was in charge. Shame filled her, made the beer in her stomach sour.
“Since Bree wasn’t there when you won the Cup,” Maddie said, admitting only what she could, what couldn’t come back to haunt her, “she needed to at least be a part of the party celebrating that win.”
Neil needed her to be there.
For the first time in a long time, Maddie had put his needs before her own.
It scared her. Even if it was the right thing to do.
He lifted a shoulder as if it was no big deal that he’d reached the pinnacle of his career. That his dreams had come true.
“You should be proud,” she said slowly, forcing the words out. “Winning the Cup is a huge deal.”
He touched her, just his hand on her wrist, but the contact swept over her like a memory. His warm, rough fingers a reminder of all the times he’d touched her, of how she could reach for his hand at any time and count on him to be there. Strong. Steady.
Hers.
“Do you mean that?” he asked in his quiet voice, his