“Miguel, it’s Lane from the Way Station Café. I brought you some muffins.” She held her breath. There was another thump. She waited.

The knotted pinewood door creaked open and Miguel’s dark eyes loomed in the darkness. “Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I, um.” Lane licked her lips. The thought that coming out here with Noah wasn’t a good idea crossed her mind again. She understood enough about PTSD to know it could lead to unpredictability, but was it enough to ignore the pain in Miguel’s eyes? She lifted the basket. “I made these for you.”

The door opened wider, revealing Miguel, and the pungent odor she smelled last night wafted over her. His hair was still wild and the jeans and gray shirt he wore were covered in dirt. “What is it?”

“Muffins. I hope you like blueberries.” Lane held out the basket to him and he slowly took it from her. There was a tremor in his hands, which was almost unnoticeable because of the bloodied scabs covering the deep gashes across his palms. “After last night—”

“I did that.” His eyes zeroed in on her face.

Lane had tried to use makeup to cover up the bruising, which made her look like she’d lost a round with Laila Ali, but the look of guilt on Miguel’s face made her feel bad for showing up there. “It’s okay, Miguel. It was an accident. I know you didn’t mean to do it.”

Miguel was silent for several seconds. “Who’s that?”

Lane followed Miguel’s gaze to Noah, who was peeking up from behind her. “This is my son, Noah. You’ve seen him at the café before, haven’t you?”

The hard lines around Miguel’s eyes softened. He stepped onto the porch and Noah pressed his body into her leg. Her son wasn’t normally shy, but with the bristly faced man in dirty clothes moving toward him, she didn’t blame Noah for cowering.

“Do you like alligators?” Miguel asked Noah.

Lane’s eyes darted around. Miguel’s property was close to the Ogeechee waterline, which meant it was probable alligators could be on the property.

“I like dinosaurs.” Noah’s voice was just above a whisper.

“Alligators are dinosaurs.”

“I know that, silly.” Noah stepped out from the protection of Lane’s leg.

“I have alligators. Do you want to see them?”

Oh, dear Lord, please don’t let Miguel have a pen of alligators around here. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Are they scary?” Noah was now completely entranced in the conversation about the reptiles.

“No. Not these ones.” Miguel shut his door and started walking into the wooded area with the basket of muffins still in his hand.

“Come on, Momma. Let’s go see the alligators.” Noah pulled her hand to follow Miguel.