Page 46 of Caveman (Wild Men 1)

Phew. I fluff up my hair that I’ve let loose today, then force myself to stop as the door slowly swings open.

My gaze drops down to the little girl standing there. “Mary? Where’s your dad?”

“Upstairs,” she says seriously. “You should stay away, Tati.”

Way too seriously for a five-year-old. And what does she mean? That knot is back in my stomach and it has nothing to do with the time of the month.

“Why, sweetie?” I take her hand and step inside, letting the door close behind us. “What’s wrong? And where’s your brother?”

“Cole’s in the kitchen,” she says and tugs me that way. “I made him some cereal.”

“That’s great. Did you make some for yourself, too?”

“Ah-huh.” She nods emphatically, and I smile even though I’m so worried.

“Good.” We enter the kitchen and Cole looks up with a milk mustache and splashed mushy Fruit Loops around his plate.

“Tati,” he says in his cute baby voice, and I lean over to kiss his sticky cheek.

“Hey, baby. Why don’t you guys sit here and have your breakfast while I look for your daddy?”

“Told you, Daddy’s upstairs. He made a mess,” Mary says sadly.

“A mess?”

A crash comes from upstairs, and she winces.

A chill goes through me.

Shit. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you worry about a thing.” I flash them a quick smile and hurry up the stairs. “I’ve got this.”

Let’s hope I’m right.

I don’t know what to expect. A full-blown psychotic episode? Violence. At least there hasn’t been another crash since I came upstairs.

Still. Fear is a touch of ice in my veins as I peek into Matt Hansen’s bedroom for the first time. His door is open—also for the first time.

Taking a deep breath, I enter.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, his hands over his face. As I watch, he rubs them up and down, then as if feeling my gaze, turns to look at me.

“Tay,” he says in his deep voice, and I freeze.

Not just because of the unexpected nickname. I like the sound of it, though nobody else calls me that.

No, it’s the raw pain in his dark eyes, bared for me to see, that takes my breath away.

Then he turns away and curses, breaking the spell.

“I thought I heard a crash.” There are things strewn on the floor. Books. A broken gadget that looks like a tablet. There’s a small dent in the wall. “Are you all right?”

“Peachy.”

I pick up the tablet. The screen is cracked through. “Bad morning?”

“Bad… night.” His voice catches on the word, and I swallow hard.

“Want to talk about it?”

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