Page 5 of Meant for Mayhem

“Accelerated heart rate, sweating, chest pain, dizziness, and I’d bet nausea too from the way your face drained of color.” He ticked each one off on his fingers. “That wasn’t a mild panic attack, buddy. This is serious.”

“We’re worried about you, Mikko.” Coach used my first name, which felt like a direct hit. “Your life has changed a lot in the last few months, what with bringing your daughter home and taking care of your mom.”

“Just because Mom’s in a wheelchair doesn’t mean she’s a burden,” I snapped, the same defensiveness I always felt for my mother rising to the surface. At least this was an argument I’d had a thousand times. “She’s an Olympic gold medalist. You think I’m taking care of her?”

Camille put her hand up. “We’re on your side. We want what’s best for you and for the team, and tonight wasn’t either of those things.”

“So, what are you saying?” I leaned forward in my seat, trying to ignore those same symptoms Frankie had listed off that were coming back again. “Are you cutting me? I have a few bad games and you’re done with me?”

“Stop.” Coach held up a hand. “That’s not⁠—”

“Yes or no?” I growled, getting angry now.

If they put me on waivers, other teams would have 24 hours to scoop me up. We could end up anywhere.

But if no one did scoop me up—if they all saw how much of a liability I was right now—then what?

“We’re putting you on personal leave,” Camille said, her voice annoyingly even for how off-kilter I felt. “You’ll miss four weeks while you see our team psychologist and work on your personal life.”

“Four weeks?” I gasped. “You want me to sit out for four fucking weeks?”

Coach pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. “It’s not ideal, but your mental health comes first.”

“My head is⁠—”

“Fine, yes. We’ve covered this already,” Frankie said. “But hear them out, Meeks. Your mom’s temporary visa is about up, right? Have you found a nanny yet?”

Her visa was almost up, and I hated that he knew that.

“I’m working on it,” I said through clenched teeth.

I wasn’t, but I couldn’t exactly admit that every time I looked at nanny applications I had the same panicked reaction.

“I can put my staff on it,” Camille said. “We’ll find you someone that’s great with children and understanding of our rigorous schedule.”

“I’m not leaving my kid with a stranger.” I left out the part that I also felt like a stranger in her life. “That’s not an option.”

“We seem to be short on those right now,” Coach sighed. “So, how about you tell us what you need?”

“Would it help to have your daughter at the games with you?” Frankie offered. “You calmed down the moment you had eyes on her, so would that make a difference?”

Until he mentioned it, I hadn’t registered that the preseason games I’d played in were home games, and my mom was with Leena in the stands. They’d sat at the top of the lower bowl where I could see them, and…

Yes, that was better.

I nodded.

“Great, so let’s find you a nanny who’s willing to travel with the team.” Camille took out her phone, typing in a note. “It’s not ideal, but we can make travel arrangements for the two of them until you’re feeling more comfortable.”

“No nannies,” I repeated.

“Well, getting your mom’s visa extended and having her travel so often is a much bigger process.”

She wasn’t wrong—traveling while in a wheelchair was terrible, at best, especially alone. But add in a toddler with an inability to sit still? That was nightmare fuel, and not something I would put my mom through.

“Leena flies with me. Not on a separate flight.”

Camille frowned, then looked at Coach. “That’s a little more complicated. If you’re not open to a nanny, who are you suggesting watches her while I certainly hope I have you back on the ice?”