IRIS Maverick’s footsteps were quiet, but I still felt him before I saw him. I lifted my head, my vision still blurry from all the tears that I’d refused to wipe away. And there he was, standing in the doorway, his tall frame tense as he leaned against the doorpost. His sharp eyes were zeroed in on me, and in his eyes was an expression that I couldn’t quite place. And then, in a voice that I wasn’t even sure he was capable of, he said, “Hey, little one.” Chelsea turned her head slightly, her small body still curled against me. And when she saw him, she blinked up at him, her big blue eyes filled with curiosity. “Who are you?” She asked, glancing at me, and then, back at him. Maverick stepped forward, slowly and carefully, as if he didn’t want to startle her. And then bent at the knees, crouching beside the bed so they were almost at eye level. “I’m Maverick,” he said, offering her a small smile. “I’m a friend of your sister’s.” Chelsea’s hand tightened weakly around my fing
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