“You know, you mention that a lot.”
He laughed, then picked her up in his arms, careful to make sure her skirt was tucked in so she wouldn’t flash anyone on their way back in.
“What’s the plan here?” Sadie asked. “Are you going to carry me around all day?”
“If I have to.” Max gave her a smile. Not the Brody one, areal onethis time. “Besides, I didn’t get my workout in today, and I’d say you have enough weight to you that I probably won’t need to.”
She batted at his arm, rolling her eyes—but it was good-natured, Max noted.Progress.
As he walked back to the soundstage, easily carrying Sadie in his arms, he said, “You know, I don’t just knit dog sweaters.”
“No?” Sadie replied, her eyes meeting his.
“I also knit blankets for the preemies at the hospital. And I’ve been known to whip up the odd hat or mittens for friends.” He wasn’t sure why he blurted those personal details out, and he felt somewhat embarrassed by it. But then she gave him a warm smile, which made him glad he had.
“Well, look at you, Max Brody. Surprising me yet again,” Sadie said. “Who taught you how to knit?”
“My mom,” he replied, breaking eye contact.
Before Sadie could ask any other questions about his mom, Max said, “Can you reach the handle?” They were now at the building’s door. Sadie stretched an arm out, clasping the handle.
“Easy does it,” he said, maneuvering carefully to avoid any part of Sadie hitting the edges of the doorway.
“What do we say?” Sadie asked. “I don’t want them to make me go to the hospital.”
“We’ll just say you turned your ankle, because of those ridiculous shoes. And that if they don’t start putting you in more appropriate footwear, well, you’ll sue.”
“I can’t sue over shoes!” Sadie laughed.
“Sweetheart, this is America. You can sue overanything.”
“Fine,” Sadie said, her arms tight around Max’s neck. “I shall demand flats from now on, or I sue their asses.”
“That’s my girl,” Max murmured with a grin.
He was instantly self-conscious, as if only then remembering Sadie was barely his friend, let alone his “girl.” He wasn’t used to this off-kilter feeling, and he didn’t love it.
Just then Cruz came around the corner, speeding up when he saw Max carrying Sadie. He was pushing a wheelchair, which was on set for any injuries or if a contestant got woozy during a performance.
“Landon filled me in. How bad is it?” he asked, setting a hand on Sadie’s knee. Max glanced at Cruz’s hand on Sadie’s bare leg, and had the urge to push it off.
“Not the best, not the worst,” Sadie replied, giving Cruz a warm smile, to Max’s chagrin.
“Max, let me take Sadie. You need to go back and get your jacket. Dress rehearsal is starting in ten minutes.”
“Uh, that’s okay. I can grab it after Sadie’s settled. She needs some ice for that ankle.”
“Already done. Landon is getting it ready as we speak. Come on now.” Cruz gestured for Max to set Sadie down in the wheelchair. He lowered her to the seat as gently as he could, and Cruz set one of the footrests in the highest position to support her injured leg.
“Thanks, Max,” Sadie said. But then she turned to Cruz, thanking him for getting the wheelchair, and Max felt like a third wheel. Another feeling he did not love.
“Our poor songbird has a broken wing,” Cruz said, crouching beside the wheelchair, his forehead creased in concern. “Think you can perform from the chair?”
“My voice isn’t sprained,” Sadie replied.
“That’s my girl,” Cruz said. Max hated the proprietary way Cruz addressed Sadie, all the while chastising himself for saying precisely the same to her only moments before.
As Cruz pushed Sadie down the hall, Max stood by the door, watching them until they’d turned the corner.
