Page 66 of Made for Mayhem

“A pig,” I said.

“A pig,” she repeated.

“Yep.”

By the time I rounded the front of the truck, Junie was halfway up the porch steps, piglet in her arms. Daisy met me at the base of the steps, eyes narrowed, half amused and half overwhelmed.

“There is a lot to unpack here.”

“I didn’t have a pig when I left this morning.” I didn’t know why I clarified that, but today had been weird on all fronts.

Her eyes crinkled. “I noticed that.”

“She came from a rescue,” I added. “Long story.”

That earned a soft chuckle, and fuck, I loved that sound from the Winslow girls. “Of course she did.”

Junie didn’t even look up when we stepped into the house, already spreading a blanket on the living room floor. Her hockey mascot stuffed animals sat in a nearby pile while Piggie Smalls waddled through the middle.

“Okay, you go here because you’re in the same division,” Junie said, dropping a plush mascot into a neat line. “And you can’t stand by him because you’re rivals after the 1999 Stanley Cup.”

Piggie sniffed one, then another.

Daisy stopped short beside me, watching the scene unfold. “Wow,” she whispered. “So… hockey is a thing.”

“You should hear her when she gets going on stats,” I said. “That kid is the smartest person I know.”

Junie glanced up, eyes bright. “If pigs could play hockey, do you think she’d be a goalie?”

As if demonstrating her skills, Piggie flopped down in the middle of the blanket, legs splayed, snout tucked against a stuffed animal’s side.

Junie giggled and immediately launched into a detailed explanation of which mascots were nice, which ones were villains, and why Piggie couldn’t trust the orange one with the weird eyes.

I leaned against the doorframe and let the noise wash over me—Junie’s steady stream of hockey facts, Piggie’s snorts, Daisy’s quiet laugh beside me. For a second, I stayed there, hands braced on the wood, grounding myself in the normalcy of it.

“Was she okay today?” Daisy asked after a few minutes.

Rowdy sat heavy at my feet, eyeing the living room chaos. “Yeah,” I said. “Beckett called. Junie hit her limit.”

“After this morning, I’m surprised she made it this long. I say we call it a win.”

I nodded, glad we were on the same page.

Daisy took a tentative step into the living room, then sank down on the floor beside Junie. My girl beamed, showing her how to hold Piggie just right, like she’d been doing this for years instead of an afternoon.

“Are you good?” I asked.

Daisy lifted a thumb without looking back, already absorbed. “We’re good.”

I lingered another second, watching Junie curl closer to her, then turned away before my chest could tighten too much.

I stepped back outside, already making a mental list of everything we’d need for tonight.

15

The evening settled around us, surprising for such an odd turn of events.

When Junie insisted again that the pig could sleep in her room, I shut that down gently but firmly. Daisy backed me up, and the pig ended up in a dog kennel with a soft blanket and a heat lamp from the barn.