The moment that the back door shut behind Lissa, Hannah suddenly realized that she'd made a huge mistake. She was alone with a strong, dangerous man, and she had a little girl to protect. Dear God. Suddenly, the images of her sister's battered body and her mother's bruised face flashed through her mind, and her heart started hammering with panic.

What had she been thinking? She had been so desperate to be a part of the affection between Lissa and Maddox that she'd agreed to something insanely foolish, and potentially dangerous.

She knew about men. She knew how dangerous they could be. And yet, she'd walked right into this.

She immediately stood up, holding Ava tight. "You know," she said, trying to keep the strain out of her voice as she tried not to look at Maddox. "Why don't you just write down the directions? The snow is getting worse, and I really should head out now. I don't think it would be wise for me to wait until the pies are ready. I'm sure I'll be able to follow your directions well enough, when I add them to the ones I already received from the realtor."

Maddox studied her, his arms folded across his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the door jamb and cocked one leg to the side, in a casual, jaunty pose that made him look even more imposing than he already did. "I have never hurt a woman in my life, and now isn't the moment when I'm going to start."

She blinked, replaying his words in her head as she stared at him, startled by how he'd zeroed in on the exact reason why she was suddenly nervous. For a split second, she wanted to just drop her shields and admit that she was terrified of everything, but instead, she pulled her shoulders back and summoned strength she could barely access. "You mean, you are going to start hurting women at some point in the future? It just isn't going to be this particular moment in time? Because that really doesn't make me feel safer."

His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. She expected him to defend himself, but he said nothing. He just stared at her, his expression hard and cold. There was something in his eyes that made her hesitate. She realized suddenly that she'd hurt him. Deeply.

She thought of how much Lissa had clearly adored him. Of how he'd gotten Ava to smile. Of the weight in his eyes. Suddenly she knew that she'd been wrong to judge him so quickly. He was a protector, not someone who would hurt the innocent. Heat flooded Hannah's cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said, meaning it. "I didn't mean to offend you."

He shrugged, lifting one shoulder, but she didn't believe his casual response. There was too much tension in his body, too much darkness in his eyes. She sighed, recognizing her own limitations. Based on all the evidence, she was pretty certain that he was completely trustworthy. The problem was with her own inability to trust any man, not just him. He didn't deserve to be insulted because of her own lack of capacity to be normal. She sighed, wanting to take away the insult she'd just tossed at the man who had been so kind to her and Ava, as well as Lissa. "I just meant, that I feel like I should go. I didn't mean anything personal by it. I just—" She hesitated, not sure that announcing that she basically saw all men as potential threats was the right way to go.

"The question is," Maddox said, his voice low and rough as he watched her, "are you safer trying to find the Anderson place alone in the storm, or here with me? That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"

There was something in the way he asked it that made her pause. Even Ava lifted her head to look at him. There was an edge to his voice, a raw bitterness laced with self-hate that made her heart turn over. She looked at him more closely, and this time, she noticed the small scar on his temple, and the scars on his fingers. There were small round scars on his left forearm that looked like burn marks. Small, round burns about half a centimeter in diameter, marks that looked like they'd been caused by a...cigarette?

No.

She had to be imagining things. Her gaze snapped to his, and the sudden raw pain she saw in his eyes told her she'd been right. Someone had burned cigarettes into his arm at some point in his life.

Silently, he unfolded his arms, and turned and went back into the kitchen, leaving her and Ava alone out front.

Hannah closed her eyes, her throat tightening. What had happened to him? How old had he been when he'd gotten those scars? She wanted to run after him, to hug him, to offer him the comfort that she'd never gotten all those nights she'd been so scared as a child.

But she didn't move. Katie had been the hugger. Katie had been the one to offer comfort. Hannah didn't know how to do that. All she knew was how to erect shields around her, barriers that would keep people out. Besides, Katie's love had gotten her killed, and there was no way that Hannah was going to make the same mistake.

She would never trust anyone, especially not a man, especially when she had Ava to protect.

She should leave. Right then. Get in her car and drive until she found a place to stay. Men scared her, and Maddox clearly had the kind of violence in his past that terrified her. She should run, take Ava, and...

Ava touched her arm, and Hannah opened her eyes. Ava touched her lips with her fingers, and then rubbed her belly, indicating that she was hungry. Hannah grimaced. "I'm sorry, baby, but I think we should go—"

Just then, the kitchen door swung open. Hannah jumped as Maddox walked out, carrying two trays. One of them had a sandwich and a salad on it, and he set that in front of Hannah. The other one he held up to Ava. "This is my secret recipe," he said, his voice gruff. "Only special kids get to eat this. So far, only my niece and nephews have gotten to eat it, but I can tell that you're particularly awesome, so you get to be in the inner circle."

Ava watched him, her eyes wide.

Maddox set the tray down in front of her, and both Hannah and Ava leaned forward to see what was on it. It was macaroni and cheese, but somehow Maddox had managed to arrange it into the shape of a dog. He had used chocolate chips for the eyes, a strawberry for the nose, and French fries for the whiskers. "His name is Alfred," Maddox said, his voice softening the longer he spoke. "He's a magic dog. Once he's in your belly, he stays with you forever as your guardian angel. He's always there to hug you if you need it, and to chase away the bad dreams. All you have to do is say his name, and he'll be there for you." Maddox set a glass of chocolate milk down. "And drink your milk. It's good for you. Got it?"

Ava nodded vigorously, watching him with rapt attention.

"Good." He glanced at Hannah. "You need to eat, too," he said, his voice still gruff. "You look like you're going to pass out."

She blinked, startled by the way his deep voice seemed to wrap around her, enveloping her in a sense of warmth and safety. She stared at him, unable to look away from his gaze. There was so much emotion in there, pain, hardness, regret. And something else. A yearning. A longing. For what? She cleared her throat. "Thank you," she whispered. "I—" She stopped, not sure what to say.

Silence fell, and for a long moment, they stared at each other. After a moment, he nodded, and stood up. He didn't wait for an answer. Without another word, without another look, he turned and walked back into the kitchen, letting the door shut behind him.

Hannah stared after him, her mouth open in shock. "Alfred?" she whispered to herself. Alfred the magic dog. How on earth had Maddox realized what Ava needed? How did a man so tough and hard know what a traumatized four-year-old needed?

Ava scrambled off Hannah's lap onto the adjacent stool, and pulled the tray over. She leaned forward, so she was eye level with Alfred. Her lips moved, and Hannah knew she was whispering something to the dog. Tears suddenly clogged her throat. Dear God. Ava was whispering to the macaroni dog. Talking, for the first time in six months.

Ava finished her conversation, then she leaned over and kissed Alfred on his strawberry nose. Hannah's throat tightened as Ava picked up a fork, grinned at Hannah, and started eating, a small smile curving her mouth.

Hannah smiled back, ruffling Ava's hair as the little girl started shoveling the food into her mouth, eating with more vigor than she had in six months.

For a long moment, Hannah sat there, stroking Ava's hair, watching her daughter eat, aware of the sounds of pots clanking in the kitchen as Maddox moved around. Something clanged, and he swore under his breath, just loud enough for them to hear.

Ava looked at Hannah, and then giggled, her eyes dancing with mirth, clearly highly amused that they'd caught Maddox swearing.

Giggles.

Whispers.

Shoveling food in her mouth as if she could never get enough to eat.

Three things that Hannah hadn't been able to make happen for Ava...until now.

She knew why it had happened now.

She could see it in the way Ava was swinging her feet, and the relaxed set to her shoulders. Ava felt safe. Maddox, with his broad shoulders, gruff voice, and macaroni dog, had made Ava feel safe.

Maddox had given them their first moment of feeling safe in years, maybe ever, and yet, Hannah had basically accused him of hurting women. He was the same man Hannah was afraid to be alone with. The same man who had made Lissa light up. The same man who had made Hannah feel safe when he'd said he'd escort them to her new place. He'd made her feel safe, until her mind and her own baggage had interfered, dragging her into the horrors of her past.

She looked at her sandwich, at the salad he'd put together for her, on his own, without even asking if she was hungry. She closed her eyes. On an instinctive level, she was terrified of the man in that kitchen, of his immense strength, of the darkness he undoubtedly carried inside him, but at the same time, she knew in her gut, that she was seeing him through her own filtered lens of hardship.

The man had made Ava a macaroni dog, for heaven's sake. He might have flaws, but there was something inside him that was worthwhile. She knew it, even if she was too afraid of him, or any man, to admit it. She didn't have to trust him. She didn't have to let him into her life, or see him for even one moment after tonight, but she did have to do one thing.

She owed him an apology.