“How am I supposed to do it?” he rasps.

“Do what?”

“Be her dad. Be a good dad. I couldn’t even save a life, Blue Belle. What if it was her . . .”

“Hey,” I say, stepping over to him. “I can’t even begin to imagine how it must have felt seeing that little girl die, but it wasn’t your fault, Max. You know whose fault it was? Her parents, because they didn’t protect her the way they should have. Do you truly think you’d ever put that little girl in there in that same kind of danger?”

“Never.”

“Then don’t let fear rule you. She needs you. You know that.”

“I think I might need her, and that fuckin’ scares me.”

“It scared me, too, but it turns out it was the best damned thing I ever did.”

He looks up at me. “You scare me.”

His voice is thick. I swallow. “Yeah. I think I feel the same.”

He studies my face. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” I say, turning my body towards the living area.

“No, in the bed. You take it.”

“It’s okay. I can crawl in with Immy or take the couch.”

“Blue Belle,” he warns. “Take the damned bed.”

I smile and look into his eyes. “Okay, handsome. I won’t argue, but I do want you to come with me.”

He narrows his eyes. “I thought . . .”

“I’m not asking you to fuck me, Max. I’m just asking for you to be beside me, just for tonight.”

He nods. “I think I can give you that.”

I beam.

This might have a chance at working. Just maybe.

The next day starts off well enough, with me waking pressed against Max’s hard, hot body. I get up before him, shower, and then start on the pancakes. Being back in the house is strange, and I find myself feeling as though I never left. I miss it. I loved it so much, with its wooden floors, timber walls and open-plan living. It was my dream home. It’s where I thought I’d raise my kids.

Immy woke half an hour ago, and I distracted her by giving her a pancake with strawberries and cream. Tina texted me an hour ago and told me she’s going to be over in the next half an hour, so we can work out what’s going to happen with Mom. Remembering that I lost my last living parent yesterday has my heart clenching. I want her back; I want to tell her I love her, and remind her that she’ll be so incredibly missed, but I can’t do any of that. Instead I just have to accept the emptiness in my chest.

“Mornin’.”

I spin around, spatula in the air, batter dripping onto the floor, and see Max standing in the doorway, shirtless, his hair messed from sleep, his eyes heavy and sexy. Holy shit. My heart starts pounding as he walks closer towards me, and I can do nothing but stand there, staring at him with a gaping mouth and dripping pancake batter.

He reaches over and I brace myself, my breathing coming in short bursts, but he simply takes my wrist and re-directs my hand back over the hotplate. Oops. “Ah,” I stammer. “Sorry—I didn’t, ah, mean to.”

He grins, and leans forward, pressing his lips to my head. His mouth is warm and I shiver at the contact. “Morning, Blue Belle.”

“Morning, Max,” I whisper as he pulls back.

“Where’s Immy?”

“Eating pancakes and watching television.”

“Goin’ to see her. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll make coffee,” I mumble, turning back towards the counter.

Max is gone a few minutes, and in that time I serve up his pancakes and make a coffee. He returns without Immy, but he’s got a massive grin on his face. That warms my heart. I slide the pancakes over to him, followed by the coffee. “Breakfast is served.”

He looks at the plate then his eyes move around the kitchen. “Where’s yours?”

“I can’t eat,” I say softly.

His eyes narrow and fix on me. “That’s not goin’ to do you any good. You know that, don’t you?”

“My mom died last night. I can’t even think about food right now.”

His eyes get soft and he steps around the counter, backing my body into the corner of the kitchen. “How you feelin’ this morning?”

“Like someone has hit me in the chest with a rocket launcher.”

He studies my face. “It’s goin’ to feel like that for a while, but you’ve got so many people who will help you.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down.

He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head back. “I’m one of them.”

A throat clears and both our heads swing around to see Tina and her husband, Chase, standing in the doorway. Tina doesn’t look impressed that I have a half-naked Max pressed against me, but he moves back quickly enough and I rush out, throwing my arms around her. She starts to cry and my tears come forth again, even though I shed so many last night.

The guys say nothing.

There’s really nothing anyone can say.

Only time can heal this wound.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THEN – ANABELLE

Max is sitting at the dining table, bottle of beer in his hand, glaring at me. He knows I hate it that he’s drinking, but it would seem he no longer cares. He’s just sitting there watching me, almost daring me to argue with him. I won’t do it. I just get on with making lunch, refusing to give in to him, refusing to let him know that he’s hurting me. That’s what he wants, and he won’t get it from me.

“Are you going to eat?” I mumble to my plate.

“No.”

“Fine, Max.”

I flip open the bin and tip his food into it, ignoring the way he flinches when I do. I throw my sandwich in after it, not hungry. I’ve lost a few solid pounds in the last month, and it’s all from stress. Max has good and bad days, but lately it’s more bad than good. Today he’s home, for what reason I do not know, but it probably has to do with the black eye he’s sporting.

“What happened to your face?” I ask, nodding at it.

“I fought.”

“With who?”

“With an opponent.”

“I didn’t think you did it with your best friend,” I spit.

He crosses his arms. “I have a fighting ring at the club, remember?”

“And you’re fighting now?” I gasp, horrified.

I know Max started some ‘fun fights’ at the club on weekends to raise more money, but it seems lately that’s getting out of the fun and more into the fight. What I didn’t know is that he was putting himself in harm’s way by joining in.

“What’s the big deal?” he grunts, standing. “It relieves stress.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” I cry out, throwing my hands up. “Honestly, Max, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Not this shit again,” he grunts, turning and walking towards the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“Fucking out.”

With that he steps out and slams the door.

My heart falls to pieces.

THEN – ANABELLE

“I’m sorry, miss, it’s been declined.”