Page 65 of Made for Mayhem

“Indeed, it is.”

Her hands flew to her mouth. “Can we keep her?”

I sighed, already defeated, but loving the look of pure adoration taking over my girl’s face. “Yeah. Probably.”

She reached out and brushed her hand over the piglet’s back, reverent. “She’s so warm.”

The pig snorted. Rowdy leaned in, resigned to the chaos. Junie giggled—a sound I’d do just about anything to keep around.

“How’d you get her?” Junie asked once I had her buckled into her booster seat in the back of my truck, the pig settled in her lap. One small palm rested protectively against the piglet’s back. Rowdy rode shotgun with a long-suffering expression, judging me with every breath.

Sunlight flashed through the trees on the side of the road, and I wondered if I was about to make this better or worse.

“A woman dropped her off at the hardware store earlier today.”

Junie’s brow furrowed. I caught her expression in the rearview mirror and hesitated, already questioning the wisdom of continuing.

“She didn’t want her?” Her voice cracked, tears filling those bright blue eyes. “How could she not want her?”

“This piglet’s mom died,” I said, choosing each word with care. “She’s too little to survive on her own, so they brought her to me.”

Junie nodded as tears spilled over her cheeks. She squeezed the piglet, holding on. “You’ll be okay, Piggie,” she whispered. “Ty’s good at taking care of us.”

I blinked fast, throat tight, because fuck. Seven words and she’d destroyed me.

Junie moved right past the moment, still murmuring to the pig. I stared out at the road, forcing myself to breathe, to keep it together.

Be steady.

Be safe.

Be what she needs.

I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve her, but Junie was the best thing to ever happen to me. I couldn’t screw this up for her.

“Do you want to live in my room, Piggie?” Junie said. “Ty painted it blue, and it’s really cute. We can put a picture of you on the wall. You just have to make a funny face first.”

I glanced at her in the mirror. “Piggie, huh?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that the rapper you listen to in the barn? Piggie Smalls?”

I laughed, the sound surprising even me. “Yeah, bug. That’s a great name.”

Junie grinned wider, pleased with herself.

Piggie Smalls sniffed at Junie’s face, her wet nose burrowing into the crease of her neck until Junie let out a soft giggle. I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but with Junie humming softly, Rowdy’s head heavy in my lap, and Piggie snoring against Junie’s stomach, it almost felt like maybe we were going to be okay.

The gravel crunched under the tires as we turned down the long driveway. Daisy wore pink heart-shaped sunglasses that covered half her face as she knelt in the garden by Violet’s house, wielding a trowel like she was determined to wrestle the weeds into submission.

All day I’d been worried about her, not sure how to help a grieving woman. Was it the same as a child? Offer her stability and just meet her where she was at? Maybe I should ask at my next therapy appointment.

Music blared out of a little stereo on her sister’s porch, so it took her a minute to realize I had parked there. But the second she spotted Junie in the back seat, she frowned.

I pointed at my house, and Daisy followed me up the drive to the top of the hill. The moment I had the truck in park, Junie flung the door open and tumbled out with Piggie clutched to her chest.

“Dizzy!” she yelled, hair flying everywhere as she ran toward Daisy.

Daisy straightened, brushing her palms on her shorts. “Hey, cutie. Why are you—” She caught sight of the pig, then looked at me. “What the hell is that?”