Page 63 of Meant for Mayhem

He glanced down. “At this point, I think all of my shirts are more snot than cotton.”

A laugh escaped before I could stop it.

His thumb brushed beneath my eye, catching the last tear before it could fall.

“So.” He tilted his head. “What can we do tonight to get your mind off all this?”

I sniffled once, then pulled back from his embrace. “I’m okay. Promise.”

One blond eyebrow lifted, but thankfully, he dropped it.

Dinner was peaceful, both of us focused on Leena instead of the whole slew of burdens we carried.

Again, she made attempts at more sounds than I’d heard before. Her little nose scrunched with each excited giggle when we reacted, only spurring her to try again. I leaned back in my seat, watching Mikko’s face light up with excitement each time she tried to mimic one of us, his eyes catching mine in a, did you see that? expression.

And of course, I saw it.

I saw every single thing this man did tonight, down to the way he blew raspberries on his daughter’s belly as he carried a red-sauce covered toddler to the bathtub. Their laughter carried down the hall, easing the heaviness of the day.

I cleared the table while they went through their bedtime routine, getting the dishwasher running and the kitchen back to the immaculate state Mikko usually left it in. Dishes had become my thing, which at least made me feel less guilty over the fact that he hadn’t once let me cook a meal yet. His voice carried all the way to the living room with each word he read from her bedtime story, and I couldn’t help but smile.

It was another twenty minutes before Mikko eased her bedroom door shut, the penthouse having settled into a comfortable silence. I curled into one end of the couch with my tablet, trying yet another new book tonight. This one was a monster romance full of fated mates and enough kinks to make anyone blush.

A few minutes later, Mikko wandered out of his bedroom in a fresh t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, his own paperback tucked beneath one arm.

He gestured toward the opposite end of the couch. “You mind?”

“Only if you judge my book.”

“Should I?”

He peeked over the edge of my tablet, but I held it against my chest.

“Sit down, Finland.”

He chuckled under his breath before settling onto the other end of the couch.

For the next hour, neither of us spoke. He turned pages. I scrolled mine. Every so often one of us shifted, or reached for a drink, or quietly laughed at something on the page, but there was no conversation. No pressure. Just together.

And dammit, I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

14

“Are you ready?” Coach Tremblay slapped my shoulder in the locker room after morning skate. “How are you feeling?”

I took stock of myself the way I’d been taught over the last two weeks. “Nervous, but good.”

My mandatory personal leave was up as of today, and I was slated to make my return to the ice tonight. It was a home game, and Leena and Shannon would be there. Between that and everything I’d worked through with Kevin, I felt steadier than I had in weeks.

My heartbeat still picked up every time I thought about stepping back onto the ice. My chest still ached if I let myself imagine everything that could go wrong. But I didn’t spiral as often anymore.

It’s adrenaline, I reminded myself. Leena is safe.

A slow breath in.

Longer out.