who looked ready to take a hammer to Neil’s head. “Relax, Uncle Avenger. Neil would never hurt Bree. Now, you—” she pointed at Bree “—and you...” She used her thumb to indicate Neil. “Come with me.”
James stepped forward. “Maddie—”
“I’ve got this,” she told him, softening the snap in her voice with a hand to his arm. “Really.”
She met Bree’s eyes and tipped her head toward the door. Sniffing loudly and, if Maddie did say so herself, quite theatrically, Bree passed both Maddie and Neil, her shoulders hunched, her head down.
“Carry on,” Maddie said into the living room where Art and Heath had stopped removing the window casings so they could see the action in the hallway. Art turned back to his work so fast, his ponytail whipped around and hit his cheek.
Heath, two years Maddie’s junior, grinned. “I had five bucks on James.”
“I would’ve taken that bet,” she said. She could always use five bucks.
Stepping onto the porch, she shut the door behind her then gestured for Neil and Bree to follow her into the front yard. No way was she risking any of their lives by standing on the porch with its sagging roof and rotted front corner.
“Okay,” Maddie said, wishing she’d thought to bring her sunglasses out. “Who wants to tell me what’s going on?”
“Breanne,” Neil said, his arms crossed, his mouth pinched. “Tell your mother what happened.”
“Uh-oh,” Maddie murmured to her daughter. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“I didn’t even do anything wrong,” Bree cried, her eyes welling with fresh tears.
Maddie looked heavenward but there was no patience to be found floating in the air. Her kid was fantastic—bright, funny, sweet, eager to please and kindhearted. She was also a drama queen, overly sensitive and a major crier.
Maddie adored her. How could she not? But sometimes, she was pretty sure if she saw one more tear she’d lose her mind.
“If you didn’t do anything,” she said, “why are you crying? And why does your dad look like he’s ready to pick you bald-headed?”
Bree covered her hair with both hands. “We were at the ice rink and I went outside to wait for him.”
And if there wasn’t more to that story, Maddie would sleep with her nail gun under her pillow. “Did you tell your dad where you’d be?”
“I was going to,” Bree said, scratching her eyebrow. “I guess I forgot.”
“Forgot, huh? That’s not like you.”
“It was an accident,” she said with such petulance, such defiance, Maddie blinked. Bree shot Neil a sideways glance. “Besides, he was so busy shooting stupid pucks with Luke, I’m surprised he even knew I was gone.”
“You’re the one who told Luke it was okay if I helped him.” Neil ground the words out, his low, controlled voice a complete contrast to the way energy and anger practically crackled around him. “I even tried to get you to join us but you refused.”
Bree sent Maddie a pleading look. “I didn’t want to skate anymore.”
If possible, Neil’s scowl grew even darker. “You could’ve just said that.”
No, she couldn’t. Or at least, she wouldn’t. Bree got her stubbornness naturally—50 percent from Maddie, the other half from Neil—but that didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating when you bumped up against that wall. And when she was hurting, she tended to go inside herself and let that pain fester only to come out in passive-aggressive behavior.
Like taking off without telling her dad where she was going.
“Wait by the car while your mother and I discuss your punishment,” Neil told Bree.
Maddie raised her eyebrows. They’d never discussed discipline before. Truth be told, Bree didn’t often need to be disciplined. And when she did, Maddie handled it alone. What choice did she have? It wasn’t as if she was going to call Neil for every mouthy word or broken bedtime, especially when he was never there when the bad behavior occurred.
But he was here now.
Bree stomped off.
“What are you going to do about...that?” Neil asked, stabbing a finger in Bree’s direction. “She needs to know this sort of behavior isn’t acceptable. She can’t go running off anytime she feels like it.”
There was no need to go overboard. “She doesn’t run off anytime she feels like. She’s a kid. She made a mistake. She should have told you she was going outside—”
“No,” he snarled, “she shouldn’t have told me she was going outside. She should’ve stayed in the rink until I was done. Instead, she snuck off—”
“I’m sure she didn’t sneak—”
“Do you know where I found her?” he asked, his voice rising. “In