Page 16 of Meant for Mayhem

Every other number on the spreadsheet worked too, but barely.

Utilities.

Internet.

Groceries.

Student loans.

But there at the bottom was the one line I was expertly avoiding.

Car.

A rental sat outside next to Lori’s car I’d used for the last eight months, but come tomorrow, neither one belonged to me. While Denver had some public transportation, the city was known for its terrible traffic, and I was afraid to rely on anyone but myself.

Every night for the last three weeks, I’d closed my laptop, determined to figure out this last hurdle tomorrow. Too bad tomorrow had officially arrived.

My eyes drifted back to the top of the spreadsheet—Rent.

If I lived with Mikko...

With one click, I deleted the number in that column and every other line filled itself in with green.

I chewed on my lip, looking at the numbers until they blurred together. It wasn’t that I couldn’t make this work on my own—I always found a way.

But this situation wasn’t just about me and my finances.

It wasn’t about Mikko’s career, either.

It was about the little girl asleep down the hall.

Leena didn’t care whether I had a car or an apartment or enough money left over at the end of the month. She didn’t know what an NHL contract was or why her dad had panicked enough to invent a wife. She only knew that the adults around her were supposed to keep her safe.

Unfortunately, I knew exactly what it felt like when they didn’t.

I slammed my laptop shut.

“Dammit.”

Whether or not I agreed to this ridiculous plan, I was moving to Denver tomorrow. The only thing I hadn’t figured out yet was whether I was brave enough to let someone make my life easier, too.

5

Leena usually settled in for an afternoon nap easily enough, but not today. She stood at the side of the portable crib I’d set up in Beckett’s childhood room, pacifier in her mouth and tears dripping down her face, staring up at me like I’d committed the ultimate betrayal by caging her in there.

But I was a sucker.

I reached in and scooped her up, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, okay.” I rubbed a hand over the back of her head. “I’m right here.”

Instantly, my daughter curled up against my chest, her breath stuttering as the crying stopped, and we both breathed a sigh of relief. Funny how in such a short period, two anxious people could latch onto each other.

I readjusted the pillows until I propped myself up, reclining with her curled up next to me on the bed. She took one big breath in, and I felt her whole body relax, knowing she’d fallen asleep.

I was about to close my eyes and give in to the calm when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Logan