Panic fueled each step as Abby raced to the front yard. Moonlight settled across the lawn and her gaze immediately fell on the splintered branch.
There was no sign of Max.
The second she’d heard the scream, she knew something had happened to him. She could feel it. She’d expected to find him lying beside the branch, an arm or leg mangled and broken.
“Max?” she cried out, trying to keep the fear from her inflection. Whatever happened, he’d need her to be calm.
“There.” Logan’s voice strained as he pointed upward through the branches.
Her heart in her throat, she squinted in the darkness, barely able to make out two dangling feet.
Max clung to a branch, struggling to hold on. If he let go, he’d hit several other limbs on the way down.
She shivered, terror crashing through her.
“I’m going up.” Logan strode toward the trunk.
“No, Logan. Wait. You can’t.”
He faced her in the dimly lit shadows, and she caught a flash of something in his eyes. Anger? Hurt?
“I know you think I can’t handle it because of my injury, but—”
“What?” She shook her head. Where had that come from? “You can’t because you’re too heavy. If you climb on that branch with Max, it’ll break. I’m lighter. It has to be me.”
His features contorted as he contemplated her assessment, and resignation settled in the lines around his mouth. He nodded.
She rushed forward, calling into the branches, “Hang on, Max. I’m coming.”
His faint whimper tore at her heart.
“Be careful,” Logan said as he lifted her onto the lowest branch, bypassing the knots in the stump that Max had probably used to reach it.
The rough bark dug into her hands and her arms shook as she pulled herself up each branch. When she finally neared him, a painful lump lodged in her throat.
He looked so terrified, and yet, a small glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes when he saw her.
She swallowed her fear and each petrified doubt that told her as soon as she crept onto the branch, it would crumble beneath them.
“I’m almost there, Max.” She managed to hide the quiver in her voice. Lying on her stomach, she scooted across the rough surface, not caring as bark scraped her palms and forearms.
She didn’t dare breathe, flinching at every creak and crack.
“I can’t hold on.” Max sounded on the verge of tears.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.” Clutching his wrists with all her might, she prayed for strength she didn’t possess. His grip loosened, and she was able to support some of his weight, but how on earth was she supposed to pull him up by herself?
She needed Logan.
Tears of fear and hopelessness sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t give up. Studying their surroundings, she noticed another branch below Max, but several inches too low for him to reach on his own.
An impulsive plan gripped her and she had no idea if it would work. But what other choice did she have?
“Abby? Talk to me.” An edge crept into Logan’s tone, and she could tell it was torturing him to remain on the ground, unable to help.
“I can’t pull him up, but I have an idea.” The confidence in her own voice surprised her. She gathered a breath. “Max, in a minute, I’m going to ask you to let go of the branch. I’m going to lower you to the one right below you, do you understand?” She caught his almost imperceptible nod. “Are you ready?”
This time, he shook his head, but she could sense his hold slipping.
“You’re going to have to trust me, Max. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?” Every fiber in her being trembled with uncertainty, but somehow her voice remained calm and even.
“Okay,” Max whispered so quietly, she almost didn’t catch it.
“I’m going to count to three, and then you’re going to let go.”
She counted slowly, shifting her position on the branch for better leverage. When she finally reached three, she inhaled sharply as Max let go, tugging her forward. She bit back a cry of pain as a sharp knot in the wood jammed into her stomach. Every muscle wailed, tense and straining, as she carefully lowered him down.
His feet touched first, then he crouched, clinging to the branch like a petrified kitten who’d climbed to safety.
Releasing a shaky breath, Abby restrained a sob of relief as she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah,” he said weakly.
“Be extremely careful as you climb the rest of the way down, staying as close to the trunk as possible,” Abby told him, realizing her own body trembled too much to move. She stayed where she was, watching as Max maneuvered cautiously until Logan told him to jump the rest of the way and he’d catch him.
When Max’s feet finally touched the ground, a tear escaped, sliding down her cheek, followed by another, then another.
“Abby? Are you okay?” Logan asked.
She sucked in another breath, biting back a flood of emotion. “I’m okay,” she said, though her voice cracked. “I’m coming down.”
If she could get her muscles to move again.
When Abby finally made it back to solid ground, Logan grabbed her without thinking, and pulled her against him, overcome with relief. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if something happened to her.
She relaxed into him, but only for a moment.
Quickly stepping back, she dropped to her knees and drew Max into a tight embrace, nearly knocking the wind out of him.
The boy threw his arms around her neck, burying his face in her hair.
“Are you okay?” She leaned back on her heels to assess him for injuries.
He nodded, sniffling.
“Max,” she began softly, “why did you climb the tree after I told you how dangerous it was?”
He dug his toe into the dirt, his focus fixed on the ground. “I was looking for my dad’s boat, to see if he’s coming back for me.”
Logan’s chest tightened, and Abby met his gaze, sadness evident in her eyes.
He blinked, struggling with his own emotions. When he was Max’s age, he used to sit at the front window for hours, waiting for his parents’ car to pull into the driveway. It never did.
“Do your—” She paused, carefully considering her words. “Do the Hobarts know you’re here?”
He shook his head. “They went somewhere overnight and said I couldn’t come. I was supposed to stay home and keep the doors locked,” he admitted sheepishly.
Logan’s fist curled at his side, and when Abby met his gaze again, her eyes mirrored his concern.
She stood and held out her hand to Max. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up. Then, I think we could all use some hot chocolate. You can stay with us tonight. Right, Logan?”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation, adding, “We can have a movie night.”
“A Christmas movie?” Max’s tone carried a hint of hope and hesitation.
“Of course.” Abby smiled, leading him inside.
While she got Max cleaned up and fed him leftovers, Logan headed for the Hobarts’ to make sure no one was home. The lights weren’t on and no one answered the door when he knocked several times.
Anger rose in his chest, and he resisted the urge to kick a hole in the wall. How could they abandon Max? Even if they came back in the morning, nothing could excuse their behavior.
His anger quickly devolved into dread. Based on their reckless actions, he’d have to report them to social services. Which meant Max would be taken into custody… right before Christmas.
A bitter taste filled his mouth, and he struggled to swallow it down.
He couldn’t let that happen. But what choice did he have?
Grappling with his helplessness, Logan tried to focus on the few things he could control.
Returning home, he situated the bedroom next to his, turning on a heater to dispel the cold. He also located an extra toothbrush and changed the bedsheets and pillowcase.
As a final touch, he found the Top Gun teddy bear his grandmother had sent in a care package—much to his chagrin. The teasing over the plush toy had been brutal, but Logan had kept it, anyway.
He blew the dust off the aviator sunglasses and set it on the nightstand to keep Max company before joining them downstairs.
He found them cuddled on the couch beneath a thick blanket, each with a mug of hot chocolate and the plate of Nevada Nuggets between them.
Max had one stuffed in his mouth already.
“What are we watching?” Logan asked, sitting beside Abby.
She offered him a corner of the blanket, and he scooted underneath, trying not to think about their almost-kiss—or whatever it was—from earlier.
“Muppet Christmas Carol,” Max mumbled while a fair number of crumbs fell out of his mouth.
“Cool. I haven’t seen that one.”
“It’s surprisingly good.” Abby grabbed a steaming mug of hot cocoa from the coffee table. “It might be my favorite Christmas Carol adaptation.”
She winced as she passed him the mug, and Logan noticed the red skin and scratches on her palms.
Without thinking he gently grabbed her hand, assessing her wounds. “Are you okay? I have gauze in the upstairs bathroom. I could wrap them for you.”
“I’m fine. They’re just a little tender, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?” He still hadn’t let go. And he really didn’t want to.
She nodded, her cheeks flushed.
Without a reason to keep holding her hand, he regretfully released his grasp. “What about the Christmas movie?” he asked under his breath. “You don’t mind?”
“How could I?” she whispered with a soft smile. “Look how happy he is.”
Logan tore his gaze from Abby to focus on Max, who sported a thick marshmallow mustache.
The opening credits appeared on screen and the boy’s brown eyes brightened.
There was something about his childlike joy that permeated the room, and all of Logan’s reservations retreated to the back of his mind.
As they watched the film, laughing and chatting while they snacked on his homemade dessert, he had a disheartening realization.
Tonight, he’d been given a glimpse of the family he could never have.