Page 27 of Meant for Mayhem

“What if I do it quietly?”

“Especially no.”

Daisy laughed, bumping my shoulder when they finally let go of me. “Text us when you get to Denver.”

Harper wandered over, her arms already stretched toward me. I scooped her onto my hip without thinking, accepting the sticky kiss on my cheek. “Love you, Nannon.”

“See ya, little bestie.”

I kissed the top of her head before setting her back on the floor, refusing to acknowledge the ache settling in my chest.

“Drive safely,” Tate said, holding the door open.

I slung my backpack over one shoulder. “I always do.”

The cool October air hit my face the second I stepped outside, taking in my hometown for the last time.

Denver was east. The rink was west. I climbed into the rental and sat there for a moment, running a hand along the leather steering wheel.

This wasn’t making a decision.

This was collecting information.

If seeing Leena in the stands stopped him from spiraling, then maybe this whole fake marriage wasn’t as insane as it sounded. And if it didn’t help, then I could walk away knowing no matter what Mikko said, it wasn’t me that made the difference here.

It was him.

Decision made, I turned the key in the ignition and backed onto River Street, headed west.

7

The Linwood Rink looked different from the last time I was here. Studs framed what would be the new lobby, and plastic hung from the ceiling where another section was under construction. That seemed to fit Linwood, a mix of old and new.

Leena perked up the second we stepped through the doors, her little legs kicking against my side as she pointed toward the ice.

“Are you ready to watch?” I asked.

She bounced in my arms, eyes fixed on the skaters.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Beckett blew his whistle, and whatever drill he’d intended dissolved into chaos.

One kid pinballed another into the boards.

A girl stole the puck from both of them without breaking stride, taking it down the ice on a breakaway and scoring top-shelf against the goalie who dropped too soon.

“Smash!” Beckett barked.

The pinballer threw his hands in the air. “I barely hit him!”

“You tackled him.”

Ty pointed toward the blue line. “Lap.”

The kid groaned loud enough for everyone in the rink to hear. “This organization is corrupt.”

“Two laps.”