Page 78 of Made for Mayhem

Junie pointed at one of the moving constellations projected on the ceiling. “That one looks like Piggie.”

“Yeah? Where?”

“Right there.” She drew her hand through the air. “See her funny nose?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, bug. I see it.”

She turned her head toward me as her little hand wove its way into mine. “I love you, Ty.”

My chest squeezed so hard it hurt, and I reached over to kiss the top of her head. “I love you too, bug.”

She nodded once, then her eyelids fluttered closed, hand still in mine. I rolled onto my side to face her, watching her for a long time—this little girl who’d lost everything and still managed to find wonder in pigs and stars—and felt something twist deep inside me.

Loving Junie was the easiest thing I’d ever done. What wasn’t easy was admitting that somewhere along the way, I’d started needing her just as much as she needed me.

And Daisy… that was worse.

Wanting her wasn’t simple. It was complicated and messy and maybe even a little selfish.

It wasn’t just that my body was craving her—though that was getting hard to ignore.

But I liked who I was with Daisy.

She didn’t make me feel reckless. She made me feel alive.

But how the hell did I ask for anything from them?

They were doing their best to put one foot in front of the other, surviving the shitty hand life had dealt them. So what right did I have to say, don’t forget about me?

Lying there in the dim light, Junie’s small hand in mine, I had to face the truth.

I didn’t just want to keep them safe.

I wanted a place in their world.

And wanting that felt dangerous.

Because if I ever lost it, it wouldn’t just hurt. It would break me.

18

The house was quiet when I let myself in; the door clicking shut behind me. I kicked off my shoes, still buzzing from a head full of plans for the rink fundraiser.

“Ty?” I said, looking in the kitchen for him. I was quickly discovering he was a man who thrived on routine. Each night after Junie went to bed, he cleaned the kitchen, started the laundry, then sat on the couch to watch sports. Some nights it was baseball, others tennis, or soccer, or golf. From what I could tell, he liked anything with a scorecard.

He didn’t answer, and the kitchen was empty, save for a note stuck to the air-fryer on the counter.

Thought you might want this.

Curiosity got me, and I opened the small appliance to find a cheeseburger waiting inside. It was still warm, cheese melted over the sides, and I couldn’t help but grin. As if this weren’t thoughtful enough, when I grabbed the plate he’d left nearby, there was a small packet of mayo on top.

My heart felt lighter than it had any reason to, given the circumstances, the longer I looked at the stupid little burger.

But this seemed to encapsulate everything I liked about Ty.

He wasn’t loud with his affections. He wasn’t flashy or demanding. He was constant.

And with each passing day, I was coming to realize just how special that was.