Page 36 of Made for Mayhem

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

When she didn’t move, I stared at her, jaw tight. “Might be easier to open the door if you got out of the way.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she stepped aside without a word, crossing her arms as I opened the door and walked out into the hallway. I led her to the guest room—the one right next to my master suite.

She stepped inside, scanning the space. It wasn’t much, just a clean, simple room. A big bed. A dresser. Warm light spilled in from the windows overlooking the mountains.

“I can grab your bag,” I offered. “And move your car up.”

Her spine straightened, shoulders squaring like I’d insulted her without even trying. “I can handle it.”

“Wasn’t saying you couldn’t.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

She brushed past me, the scent of her fruity shampoo still clinging to the air she left behind, and stalked down the hallway toward the front door. I stood there a second longer than I should have, staring at the empty doorway.

The night had grown quiet outside, giving way to dusk. In the stretch of silence only filled by the wind in the trees just outside the window, realization hit me square in the chest.

This wasn’t just a custody hearing tomorrow. This was a battle nobody wanted, but both of us refused to lose.

And I had no idea who would still be standing at the end of it.

9

My leg bounced, my sneaker squeaking against the floor of the county courthouse with every jittery tap.

“Daisy.”

Ty’s voice was low enough that it vibrated through me. His hand landed on my thigh—firm, warm, and far too distracting—and pressed down just enough to still me.

“Sorry,” I muttered, shoving his hand away before he noticed how fast my pulse was racing.

The courthouse smelled of lemon polish, the walls lined with wood paneling from another era. Sunlight streamed through tall, narrow windows, catching floating specks of dust in the air.

Last night had been tense. I could tell Ty was nervous about today, and I sure as hell was. Until this moment, I’d somehow managed not to think too hard about the legal side of Violet’s death and becoming Junie’s guardian. In my head, it was simple: Violet left a Will, my name was on it, and we’d sign a few papers before heading off to whatever new life came next.

Except—what was next?

No job. No apartment in Chicago. Just a car that smelled like fast food and desperation. I hadn’t even packed—just left a sticky note with my address on the bedroom door. After everything Lauren had put me through, she could handle the rest.

And I definitely didn’t have anywhere for Junie as stable as Ty’s beautiful farmhouse. My mom died when I was Junie’s age, and I hardly remembered the logistics of everything that came after. We’d scraped by on Dad’s single salary until he’d decided we weren’t his responsibility anymore. Then, it was just me and Violet.

Life had made me scrappy, good at getting by in a pinch. But would the courts see that as a positive? Or would it just look like I was far too unpredictable to be a guardian?

My leg started bouncing again, the squeaking resuming like a countdown clock.

I stared down at my high-tops with little daisies painted on the sides, dirty from years of wear. “Why didn’t I pack anything else?”

“Hmm?” Ty said. He sat next to me in a bespoke suit, looking like he’d just come off a GQ magazine shoot for Man of the Year.

“Nothing,” I mumbled. It wasn’t like I was about to confess that his stupid mustache and steady presence were making me spiral in too many directions.

After I figured out who the mysterious Huddy was, I’d scoured the internet for any trace of him. There were plenty of press photos in suits back when he was in the NHL, but real life was different. The fabric framed him just right, accentuating how broad his shoulders were. He looked clean and composed under the slant of sunlight from those courthouse windows. And he had definitely combed his mustache.