Page 12 of Property of Max
Because Bree and Micah are my world. Their happiness, their safety…those are nonnegotiable. I won’t gamble with them for the sake of my own heart, no matter how hollow the ache inside me grows.
Still, as Max steps closer to the van, his hand brushing the doorframe, the ghost of warmth lingers in my chest. A reminder of what I’m missing. A reminder of how much I wish I didn’t have to.
Leaning down, Max looks at my kids.
“You two be good,” he says, his large hand steady as it rests on Micah’s shoulder. “See ya, big guy.”
Micah’s eyes lock on his, and something unspoken passes between them. Respect. Recognition. Approval?
Turning to Bree, Max reaches out and lets his fingers trail gently through her hair. “Take care of your mama, Butterfly,” he says softly.
Her grin widens. “I always do.”
My throat tightens at the sight. So simple. So ordinary. But in that moment, I see a glimpse of something I’ve tried hard not to imagine: a man folding into our world like he was always meant to be here.
And that thought terrifies me almost as much as it warms me.
“Wait,” Bree calls out as Max leans back from the van. “I want a hug.”
A low chuckle rumbles from him as he starts to lean in again, but instinct takes over. I reach out and grip his arm, shaking my head quickly.
His brow furrows, the faintest crease forming as he glances at me, probably thinking I’m shutting him down.
I smile, softening the moment. “Bree hugs with her whole body,” I explain. “She would never dream of hugging someone while sitting down. Prepare yourself.”
Bree is already unbuckling, her small arms outstretched, eyes bright with the unshakable trust of a child.
For a heartbeat, I watch Max. The way he straightens, bracing himself like he’s about to face something far bigger than a ten-year-old’s embrace. And then, jumping out of the van at full force, Bree collides with him in a hug that’s all legs, arms, and laughter.
Something shifts in my chest at the sight, something dangerous and warm. Because for one breathless moment, it feels like he belongs here.
Max’s eyes slip shut as he gathers my daughter into his arms, holding her as though she’s something precious. Bree hugs him back with all the strength her little body has, clinging without hesitation.
I can only stare, astonishment tightening my chest as I watch the change in him. The hard lines of his face soften. His shoulders ease. His entire body seems to melt beneath the weight of her tiny embrace.
Max didn’t just accept that hug. Heneededit.
After several long moments, Max sits my daughter back in her seat, buckling her in.
“Mama’s turn,” my little devil child announces.
“Mama’s turn for what, Butterfly?” Max asks as he double-checks her seatbelt, his voice low and easy.
“A hug, silly,” she laughs. “Mama always says it’s best to hug goodbye, because we never know when we’ll get to see that person again.”
“You didn’t hug Tank goodbye,” Max points out, his mouth twitching with amusement.
Bree’s eyes go wide. “Oh no!” she gasps, dramatic as ever. “He’s gonna be so sad.”
Her little hands fly to her cheeks, and for a moment, the whole van fills with her worry. Max chuckles under his breath, and I swear even Micah’s eyes glimmer with quiet laughter.
“How about if I tell him you’re sending him air hugs?” Max offers. “That way he won’t be so sad.”
“Maybe,” Bree sighs, tilting her head. “But when I see him next time, he’s getting an extra big hug.”
“Sounds good, Butterfly,” Max says warmly. “Bye.”
“We don’t saybye,” Bree corrects quickly. “It’ssee you later.”
