Page 24 of Meant for Mayhem

“I’ve stopped asking questions,” Tate said, sitting down on the reformer closest to her.

Daisy chuckled, unbuckling her toddler and handing him over to Emmy. “Probably for the best.”

Harper laughed with her, the sound so innocent it made my heart hurt. I hugged her, not willing to admit how much I’d miss these girls.

The longer she hugged me back, the more I couldn’t help but think Leena deserved this, too.

Not people who loved her father, but people who would love her.

Women who’d argue over queso before ten in the morning.

The kind of village that made sure no little girl ever wondered if she mattered.

Every kid deserved that.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

“Are you all packed? Ready to go? Scared about how much you’ll miss us when you’re alone in a tiny apartment with no toddlers to hug, thinking fondly of breakfast queso and the friends you left behind?”

Emmy choked on nothing. Tears streamed down her face as Daisy and Stevie got up to help, and Emmy waved them off.

“You good?” Tate asked when Emmy finally settled.

“Inhaled wrong,” she said, looking anywhere but at me. She swayed back and forth with the baby in her arms, fanning her face. How she’d managed to sneak around with her fiancée for so long was a mystery—she was the most obvious person I’d ever met.

“Mikko told the team we’re married,” I said before she inevitably gave me away, setting Harper on the floor.

That sentence sucked all the air out of the room.

All four of the women turned to look at me, unphased by the sound of toys crashing to the ground as Harper did her best impression of Godzilla.

“She’s fine,” Stevie said, not even looking at her daughter. “You, however…”

Daisy blinked. “The Viking guy, right? Beckett’s teammate?”

“Technically, he’s Finnish, so not a Viking. But yep, that guy.” Tate popped the P dramatically, raising a brow. “Is that why the Yeti announced he’s on leave?”

I rolled my eyes, only now realizing that Emmy stood there wide-eyed. “Part of it. Honestly, I’m shocked Emmy hasn’t told you everything she knows yet.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Emmy said quickly. “Besides, I don’t know anything. It’s your story.”

Tate did that slow blink move of hers that spoke volumes.

Emmy wilted. “… okay, fine. I know parts of your story.”

“How many parts?”

“Not much.”

I squinted at her, and Tate followed suit. “Wow. That was zero percent convincing.”

“Well, I know nothing, and I hate it,” Stevie said. “So somebody better start talking.”

Emmy’s hazel eyes went wide, looking between me and Stevie who now sat on a reformer with the bag of tortilla chips between her legs, chewing slowly like this was her favorite pastime. At this point, maybe it was.

Daisy pulled her grip socks on, then sat down on a reformer beside Tate. “Are we doing Pilates today?”

“No,” we all answered in unison.