“Cover Mindy,” I heard Max’s gravelly voice say from not too far but not too close.

“Gotcha,” I heard Mom reply and then she was for some reason holding up a towel lengthwise beside the tub, getting right in my space.

“Mom, you’re in my way,” I told her.

“Hand me the spray, Nina,” Becca said, coming in behind me.

“But –” I started, Becca reached in, pulled the spray out of my hand and then I was going up.

I twisted my neck to see I was in Max’s arms. “Max! I’m washing Mindy’s hair.”

“You can do it after you change,” Max replied, walking out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

I saw Brody, back to the room, his clothes, likely Max’s clothes, were dry and he was standing at the railing.

Max walked me directly to my suitcase.

“Max, seriously, I’m fine.”

“You’re tremblin’.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, you will, after you get some dry, warm clothes on you.”

“Max!” I snapped.

“Shut it, Duchess,” he clipped back then put me on my feet.

I no sooner got steady when his hands were at my sweater and it was over my head, it’s sodden weight lifted clean away and I felt like I’d come out from under a boulder.

Even so, I breathed, “Max,” and looked over my shoulder at Brody, who still had his back to the room.

When I turned back Max was digging through my suitcase.

“Bra off,” he ordered quietly when he turned to me.

“What?” I breathed again.

He lifted up a clean bra. “Wet bra off, dry bra on.”

“Brody’s here,” I hissed.

“Brody’s not thinkin’ about your body,” Max returned.

This was definitely true.

I twisted my hands behind me and unhooked my bra. Max handed me the new one before the wet one fell away and he’d already turned back to my suitcase and was again rummaging when I clumsily slipped it on.

When he was facing me again, he had my heaviest sweater in his hands and he gave it to me then his hands went to my jeans.

“Can you get your boots off?” he asked as the button came undone and the zip went down.

I nodded and with some effort flipped my boots off with a toe to each heel as he pulled the jeans down my legs. When he did, I sucked in breath when surprising, stinging pain struck my entire left side.

Max’s hands stopped pulling down the jeans and they went to my hips. He tilted them slightly, looked my leg up and down and whistled through his teeth.

“Scraped, honey, hip to ankle,” he muttered, his fingers probing gently at my flesh.

“I’m okay,” I assured him.

“We need to get this cleaned up.”

“In a minute.”

His head tipped back and he looked at me. “Nina –”

“Please, Max,” I whispered, my whisper heavy and clogged, my tone saying I was holding on but my hold was loose and slipping.

His eyes held mine for a long moment before he went back to my jeans and gently freed them from my ankles.

I stepped out of them and he tossed my jeans where he’d tossed my soggy sweater. He straightened, walking to the dresser as I tugged on the sweater and he pulled out a pair of his pajama bottoms. These were flannel, checked dark brown and red on a cream background.

“Looser, for your leg,” he explained and I nodded and pulled off my drenched socks and tossed them on the pile.

Max gave me the pajamas, I pulled them up and drew the drawstring tight. They were overlong and bunched at my ankles, covering my feet.

Still, Max went back to my suitcase then he was facing me again, he put a hand in my belly, pushed me back to the bed where I fell to my behind and he got to a knee in front of me.

He lifted a foot and put on first one thick, wool sock then he dropped that foot and went after the other.

Then his eyes came to me.

“Am I done?” I whispered, staring at Max on a knee in front of me, both of his hands curled around my foot and he had a look on his face as he gazed at me that I’d never forget in my whole life.

He let my foot go, leaned forward, lifted up and, lips at my forehead, he murmured, “You’re a lot of things, Duchess, dressed is just one of them.”

Then he kissed me sweet, grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bed.

I tipped my head back to look in his beautiful, clear gray eyes and, suddenly, I wasn’t trembling anymore.

Then I ran back to Mindy.

* * * * *

We got Mindy cleaned, dried and we wrapped her in my robe, putting a pair of Max’s thick socks on her feet as I only brought the one pair.

Mom shuffled off with Mindy, Max, Brody and my wet clothes and Brody climbed into Max’s bed with Mindy, holding her close as the doctor came up the stairs.

At this point, Max took my hand and led me to the bathroom, closing the door. Before I knew what he was about, the drawstring at my bottoms was pulled and the pajamas dropped to my ankles.

“Max!” I hissed on a whisper.

“Shower,” he whispered back.

“Max,” I repeated my hiss.

His hands came to my waist and his face got in mine. “Two choices, Duchess, you get undressed and get in that shower, warm yourself up and clean those scrapes so I can put salve on ‘em or we both get undressed, get in the shower and I clean you up. You got one second, what’s it gonna be?”

“I’ll take a shower,” I said immediately because I knew by the look on his face that his threat was not idle.

“Right,” he replied and then he was gone.

I was putting my shampoo and conditioner back in the shower when the door opened, Max’s torso slipped through, he tossed a pile of clothing on the counter by the sink then the door closed again.

I took a hasty shower but even hasty, the warmth of the water seeped into my skin reminding me I was alive, I was healthy and so was Mindy. It also reminded me of other things, other things I didn’t want to be reminded of and that I could hold at bay if I was doing something, like saving someone’s life or washing her hair.

I felt the tears threaten as I carefully cleaned my leg and I choked them back, my choking audible, reverberating around the marble-tiled shower. I had to keep it together. I couldn’t let Mindy hear me. I could let it go later. Now, I had to keep it together.