“Wosie,” Junie chided from her stool on Tank’s other side as she pulled baby wipes out of the container. “You can’t say that word.”

Rosie’s smile never faded as she said, “Sorry, Papa Tank.”

“Me too, Cheeky.” He shot a serious look over his shoulder at Madigan. “How long have you been working there?”

“Two weeks, and it’s fine, Tank.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got her back,” Tobias reassured him as he and Madigan got up to leave.

“And who’s got yours?” Tank asked, turning back to the baby.

“Tank, they’re fine,” Leah said.

Madigan hugged her. “Your girls are never going to be allowed to leave the house.”

“Sure they are. As long as he’s with them.” Leah hugged Tobias. “I’m so glad you came by.”

“Let us know if you need anything,” Tobias said.

“Are you leavin’?” Junie asked.

“Yes. I have to get to work,” Madigan said as she and Tobias went to hug them goodbye. “But I promise to visit again soon.”

“Can Toe stay?” Rosie flashed a hopeful grin.

“Not this time, honey,” Leah said.

“Little man is clean.” Tank lifted baby Leo off the changing table and laid him on his chest. Leo’s adorable little face scrunched and turned beat red as he strained to poop, and Tank uttered a curse, sending the girls into hysterics.

THE SCULLERY MAID was, as Tank had said, a shithole, with paneled walls, an old wooden bar and tables that had names and dates scratched into almost every inch of them, crooked pictures and neon beer signs decorating the walls, and a crowd that went ballistic for Madigan’s performances. She’d played there only three times before tonight, but she’d been so impressive at her first gig, word had spread fast that Madigan Wicked was a phenomenal musical storyteller, and she’d drawn a full house ever since.

Blaine and Zeke had shown up twenty minutes into Madigan’s set. Apparently Tank had texted them. At first Tobias had wondered if Tank didn’t trust him to protect Madigan, but when he’d said as much to Blaine, her brother had simply shaken his head and said, Brotherhood, man. We’ve got you.