As I walk back to my room with Johnny in hand, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm sorry, Johnny. Let's never fight again.

Chapter Three.

Max My leg bounces hard and fast under the dining table.

I'm nervous.

I sip at my coffee as my eyes dart from Nik to Tina. I watch them eat their breakfast, wondering how the h.e.l.l I broach this subject. Tina eats her oatmeal; she must feel my eyes on her, because she looks up at me mid-bite. Her eyes widen and she mutters slowly, "What?"

I quickly avoid her gaze and shake my head. "Nothin'."

Sip your d.a.m.n coffee and keep your eyes down.

And that's what I do. I avert my gaze so much that I look directly down into my coffee cup.

Nik's foot nudges me under the table. Brows raised, I look up at him. He carefully folds the newspaper before putting it down, eyes narrowing at me.

Uh oh.

Nik leans back in his chair, when suddenly, he starts to smirk, his dimple, almost identical to mine, cuts into his cheek.

And I sweat. "What?"

He jerks his chin at me. "You're acting weird. I mean, you always act weird, but now you're acting weirder." Tina looks over at me and nods gently.

"Am not."

"Are too," my brother argues.

"You're going senile in your old age."

Nik's eyes widen. He's a little sensitive about his age ever since he found a grey hair. I know it's not a big deal. It's natural. People eventually go grey. But the hair...

It wasn't on his head.

He leans over and snarls, "Yo' mama."

I grin. "She's yo' mama too, and I'm telling her you said that."

He opens up his arms, taunting me, "Do it. I'll tell her the real story about the dried basil leaves in your sock drawer."

The motherf.u.c.ker. "It was yours! I was hiding it for you!"

He shrugs. "She don't know that."

I reach over the table to slap him-he hates that s.h.i.t-when Tina speaks up. "Nik, stop it."

My bird flips him a h.e.l.lo, then Tina's on my a.s.s. Gently, of course. "Max, honey, do that again and I promise you won't get any cupcakes for a year."

I gasp. She wouldn't! But the look on her face says she would. I sink back into my chair. "Holy s.h.i.t, you're mean when you're breeding."

She smiles sweetly then rubs her rounded belly. "I guess I do get a little cranky nowadays."

I add, "And emotional."

Nik grins. "And h.o.r.n.y."

Tina yells, "Nik!" at the same time I screw up my face and yell, "Dude!"

I love Tina, and she's a total fox, but I don't want to think about her in the sack. Especially not with Old Man River over there. I can't help myself. I turn to Nik and smile cruelly. "So, how's your grey p.u.b.e? Lonely?"

A chair screeches, then I'm on the floor with two hands wrapped firmly around my neck, choking the s.h.i.t out of me. "Shut your mouth, punk!"

I gasp, "Never!"

Tina chuckles sweetly, completely ignoring the fact her husband is roughly feeling me up. "Oh, honey, it's not that bad. Just pluck it out. It's okay. I love you and your grey p.u.b.e."

Nik's hands still as he looks up at her. "If you pluck them, more come!"

She shrugs. "So more will come. I'll love those grey p.u.b.es too."

Looking at her, he roughly shakes me, choking me and making a point at the same time. Nik is a mult.i.tasker. "No you won't! No one loves grey p.u.b.es!" he exclaims.

She looks him dead in the eye then smiles softly. "I will." And she means it too.

Tina seriously is the s.h.i.t.

Nik throws me down. My head hits the floor with a dull thud. Panting, I rub the back of my head and mumble, "That hurt, f.u.c.ker."

He stands, then holds a hand out to me. I take it, but before I can get him into a headlock and show him how you choke like a man, my reason for living comes out from the hall.

"Daddy, I can't find my school bag."

I smile, even though she sounds frustrated, and turn to her. Her long, reddish-brown hair has been brushed and tied already. "You did you hair," I frown, "on your own." I'm sulking; I know it, but I don't get to do a lot for my little girl anymore. And I like doing s.h.i.t for my little girl. I'm her daddy; I'm allowed to like being useful. Tina clears her throat, and I'm sure if I were close enough, she'd kick me. I quickly change my pout for a proud, fatherly smile. "Which is great. Good for you, baby."

Ceecee looks down into her lap, hiding her blush. She gets embarra.s.sed easily, my baby does. She doesn't take compliments well. It sucks for her that I compliment her all the d.a.m.n time.

My daughter's name is Cecilia, but being that she's named for her grandma, we like to call her Ceecee. She was born a healthy baby. She wasn't planned or nothin', and I gotta admit, finding out Maddy was pregnant was one of the scariest things ever, but I soon got used to the idea of being a young dad. In fact, soon, I loved the idea, and I couldn't wait to hold my baby in my arms. Maddy, Ceecee's mom, was very much the same.

But once we brought Ceecee home, things changed.

Maddy was constantly unhappy, getting annoyed at Ceecee for crying, not wanting to hold her, feed her, or change her. It didn't take a genius to figure out my Maddy was not bonding with Ceecee, and not long after, she was diagnosed with postpartum depression.

I didn't really know what to do, but that was okay. My family decided for me. Mom moved us into her house. I always felt like a burden there, taking up her s.p.a.ce, but I had to work to make money to clothe my woman and baby, so while I worked my a.s.s off, Mom and my sisters kept an eye on my girls, helping out where they could. More like where Maddy would let them.

I don't pretend to be a saint in all this. I was young and on-edge myself. I can remember getting angry and yelling at my girl to get the f.u.c.k out of bed and look after our child. I remember throwing her in a cold shower after spending days in bed. I remember crying from confusion, frustration, and helplessness. I just couldn't understand why she hated our kid. I couldn't understand why she couldn't see the beauty that was our baby girl.

Truth is, depression looks black and white, but depression is a f.u.c.k load of grey. It's so easy to think things like, Why can't she just... or She should just..., but it's not that simple. I spent all my free time researching the causes of depression, 'cause if I found the source, I could fix it. Turns out, the triggers are different for each person.

Depression doesn't make a person weak. People with depression live their lives. Some live in pain, and not the type of pain you can see, but pain of the heart, and pain of the mind. They walk on while it feels like their world is breaking up around them. If you ask me, people fighting depression are some of the strongest people out there.

Living with Mom seemed to be working. My mom is one h.e.l.l of a woman. Regardless of how frustrating it was to live together, Mom showered Maddy with love and affection, always telling her we'd get through it as a family. And, wouldn't you know it, Maddy started to smile again. Then she started to hold Ceecee, feed her, change her, and bathe her. She was doing it. She was fighting it.

Maddy was healing.

Mom and I were both confident Maddy was beating the depression. She was a different person from the months prior, and I started to see the woman I fell in love with again. Life was lookin' up.

But it lasted about a second.

I remember the phone call. I remember listening to what my Mom was saying, but not really hearing at all. I remember my heart dying a slow, painful death. I remember hospitals. I remember scrubs. I remember looking at my little girl and wondering what size casket I would have to get for her. I remember choosing the pink one, because she was my little princess, and princesses always wore pink. I remember Maddy just...disappearing.

Here's what I don't remember...

I don't remember hating someone as much in my life than I hated Maddy. And I still hate her.

As far as everyone else knew, it was an accident. Maddy was preparing lunch for Ceecee, who was just over a year old, and put her to sit on the counter while she was getting the things she needed from the refrigerator. As far as everyone else knew, Ceecee fell off the counter and hit a stool on the way down, severing her spinal cord. Yes, that did happen.

What the others don't know is that Ceecee had been fussy that morning. Maddy had placed her on the counter, frustrated with dealing with a whining Ceecee, and turned her back. What the others don't know is when Ceecee started to cry, Maddy got angry. She got so angry she turned from the refrigerator, fuming, and yelled at my baby. She yelled hard.

Ceecee got spooked. Her little body stiffened, and that's when she fell.

As far as everyone else knows, that never happened. How do I know that happened? Maddy sent me a letter after disappearing, a letter I still have to this day. I received it four days after she left. Turns out, she went and turned herself in to the police. She had been under suicide watch. Part of me was so angry with her that I wished she would kill herself.

A lot happened in the meantime. Ceecee had surgeries upon surgeries. She was either doped up or screaming in agony. She cried a lot in that time, and I cried with her. I didn't understand what I had done for this to happen. But the answer is simple: s.h.i.t happens.

You find a way to cope and you roll with it. You can be the stiff branch that breaks, or the tree that bends with the wind. It's up to you.

Ceecee had already lost her Mom. She wasn't about to lose me. Not then, not ever. We spent so much time in the hospital that we were on first name basis with all the doctors and nurses in the children's ward. My Mom fed the staff. We exchanged Christmas gifts. They quickly became an extension of our already large family. They were awesome. I don't know what I would've done without them. Regardless of how sour I was, or how frustrated I was, they always took care of us. And they did it with a smile. Doctors, nurses, hospital staff...they were amazing.

Ceecee's spine is severed. There's no fixing that. We just had to learn to deal.

"Have you checked your room?"

Ceecee stares at me, eyes narrowed, shaking her head slightly. "Uh, yes. Yes, I have."

I throw up my hands. "Then I'm stumped."

She wheels her chair into the dining area, close enough to Tina to get a.s.saulted with hugs and kisses. She huffs a frustrated, "I just don't know where I left it."

And I grin. My G.o.d, she is adorable.

Nik rolls up his newspaper and playfully smacks Ceecee over the head with it. "I don't think my Cricket said good morning to me yet, Tina."

Tina hugs her closer and looks over at her husband, love in her eyes. "I think you're right, but I don't think the princess is in the mood for your games, sweetie."

Ceecee is almost thirteen years old. Not quite a child, not yet a teenager, stuck somewhere in between. I can see her changing every day. Every single day. I'm torn. I wish there was some way to stop her growing, but at the same time, I can't wait to see my daughter bloom into the good woman I know she'll be. But Tina is right, Ceecee has been frustrated a lot lately. I know this has to do with growing up. h.e.l.l, I've been dreading the hormonal changes that are coming.

Lucky for me, I have my sisters, my Mom, Tina, Nat, Lola, and Mimi to help me out with those talks when they come. I mean, c'mon! Talking to my little girl about her period and what to expect when I don't have a f.u.c.king clue about it is just ridiculous.

Ceecee's face softens. With a small sigh, she wheels herself around to Nik's side, and smiling, he leans over, pulling her into a deep hug. Her eyes close as she rests her head on his shoulder. He whispers something to her I can't quite here. I only hear her hushed response. "I know. Love you, Uncle Nik."

He kisses her forehead, stands, then claps his hands together like he means business. "Right, school bag. You check the kitchen, and I'll check everywhere else."

Ceecee moves into the kitchen, and Nik searches the rest of the house. It takes me a little while before I realize I'm still standing in the middle of the dining area, watching them.

I don't know what I would've done without Nik when Ceecee came home from the hospital. He moved us into his home and spent as much time as I did tending to her, and he worked full time while I took time off. But he worked as hard as I did, maybe harder, at making sure not only Ceecee was taken care of, but that I got as much sleep as I needed and was fed.

He is my hero. I have never told him that. He is a good man. He deserves a good life, a life invested in his family. His new family, not the one he was born into. Which is part of what makes this so hard. I don't actually want to do what I'm doing, but I feel he needs it. The time is right.

Nik calls out, "Found it!"

Ceecee calls back, "Where did I leave it?"

As Ceecee comes out of the kitchen, Nik walks down the hall entrance with her school bag on his back. He hooks it over her chair and responds an amused, "By the front door, princess."

Ceecee shakes her head, but a small smile appears on her face. Her cheeks color and she mumbles a sheepish, "Sorry."

A horn honks from the front of the house and Ceecee makes a move to the school bus. As she pa.s.ses me, she wraps her arm around my legs. I lean down to kiss her hair. "Have fun!"

She wrinkles her nose. "It's school, Daddy."

I shoot her my best teasing grin. "I know. Suffer."

She punches my thigh while trying to suppress her smile and I mock jump. "Ouch, girl. We need to enroll you in boxing cla.s.ses."

I watch her make her way down the hall. As the front door opens, she yells out, "Bye! Love you!"

We all call back in unison, "Love you."

My heart aches. I'm going to miss this. The front door closes and I turn to Nik and Tina. They both smile up at me. But what I say makes their smiles fade fast.

"So," I start, "we're moving out."

Chapter Four.