“The screaming?”I feign offense.
“The warrior princess thing,” she says, and the corner of her mouth lifts.
Drawing my attention to just how full her lips are and the peek of straight teeth beyond.
It strikes me that I’d like to kiss that mouth, and then it hits me a hundred times harder that it’s a ridiculous thought.I set it aside so fast I get mental whiplash.The last thing we need is me complicating a situation that’s already a minefield.
Luckily, Maddie doesn’t seem to notice and heads into the living room.She settles onto the couch, and I set Grayce’s playmat on the rug and lower her onto it.She immediately flips to her belly, commits to the most perfect plank in the history of babies and then her butt raises up in the air.She wobbles and then flops back down to the mat with a little grunt of distress.
“She’s frustrated,” I murmur.
“She wants to walk,” Maddie says, watching with a kind of helpless adoration.“She’s not satisfied with pulling up anymore.She wants to move.”
“Dangerous combination,” I say.“Takes after her mother.”
“Excuse me?”She arches an eyebrow.“You saying I’m a danger to myself?”
“I’m saying you’re relentless,” I correct.“And you don’t like being told to wait.”
She thinks about denying it.Then she sighs.“Fair.”
♦
Later, as I’mpulling into the players’ parking lot, I receive a text from an unknown number.This is Dr.Klemmer’s office—checking in.Call if Grayce’s pain worsens.
Then another text from a number I don’t recognize and clearly a contact Brienne must have reached out to.Pediatric ENT if you need a follow-up.Happy to help—Dr.Rao.
I stare at the screen, at the quiet power of a village spinning up around a baby who didn’t ask for any of this and deserves it all.I forward both texts to Maddie and then add a note of my own.Text me if you need me to pick up anything for you or Grayce on the way home.
A bubble appears.Disappears.She’s probably figuring out how to politely decline the offer, at least for herself.
The bubble appears again and I wait.
Okay.
It’s only one word, but it’s a big one for someone who doesn’t like depending on anyone.
I rest my head back against the seat and for the first time in a week, I have a renewed sense of energy.
I’m still terrified.Exhausted in a way I don’t truly understand.And yet, everything seems to be very right in my world.
CHAPTER 12
Maddie
The house isquiet and I take advantage of Grayce sleeping in her crib for her afternoon nap, having dozed off in my arms after a dose of pain reliever.She doesn’t seem to be getting worse, so I’m hopeful this will resolve on its own.
I settle back on the couch, kick my feet up on the coffee table, and open my laptop.I’ve got work to do and it’s important, so I use this precious time to dive in.Atlas is at the arena for the second game in the playoffs, and I have what might be a few hours of productivity before me.
It’s true I had to leave my job without giving them any notice, but I didn’t abandon my kids.I worked out a deal with my boss to let me review each file and provide an up-to-date summary of the case status.Then after each one was done, I forwarded it to the new caseworker, along with my cell phone number, so they could call me at any time with questions.So far, a few of them have taken me up on it and it’s been nice being able to stay a little connected.
It takes me a bit to get into the swing of things, mostly because I’m tired.I’ve been tired for months between caring for Gray in my downtime, as well as Grayce.Moving to Pittsburgh and trying to acclimate is causing its own share of sleepless nights.I wish I could use this free moment to nap myself, but sleep feels impossibly decadent.
Even as I’m going through one of my case files—a young girl who reminds me a lot of myself—my brain runs in continuous loops.Between listing therapy recommendations for the foster kid, I run through lists of what Grayce needs, what I need to do to accomplish those things, and what the future might look like.At night when I finally rest my head on my pillow, these loops continue and sometimes sleep takes hours to achieve.
A knock on the front door jerks me out of the spiral.I frown because we’re not expecting any deliveries that I know of, and I don’t know anyone here.I consider ignoring it, but this isn’t my house and it’s plausible that it’s a neighbor or a friend of Atlas’s.
Setting my laptop aside, I leave the plush comfort of the couch and pad across the hardwood floors to the front door.It’s solid, but there are two vertical panes of glass, one on each side, and I lean to peek through.I’m stunned to see Winnie waving like she’s arriving for a playdate.She’s in dark jeans and an oversized Titans sweatshirt, her hair in a topknot that somehow looks chic instead of frazzled.She’s balancing a tote bag on one hip and a cardboard bakery box in her hands.
