Page 142 of Meant for Mayhem

Shannon looked my way with a smirk. “Something like that, yeah.”

Each of the women wore a Christmas sweater, one more hideous than the next. Emmy had a reindeer on hers, the nose lighting up every time she moved. Stevie’s had a snowman stitched across the front, except it was covered in so much glitter, she left a trail everywhere she walked. Daisy’s was the worst though—a giant felt Santa face with googly eyes that swung independently, reminding me of a deranged hockey mascot.

Shannon pointed at Emmy’s sweater. “Did this come with a seizure warning? My god, that’s intense.”

“Please.” Emmy gestured at Stevie’s sweater. “She looks like Frosty the Snowman puked on her. She wins.”

“But neither of you can compete with this.” Daisy shimmied her chest, the googly-eyed Santa going cross-eyed for a moment, and the women doubled over with laughter.

“Leena’s the real winner.” Lori waved at my daughter from her seat at the table. “You can’t walk in here this cute and steal the show, sweetheart. It’s rude to be that adorable.”

Leena didn’t smile back, shooting everyone a deadpan expression.

“Dang,” Stevie said, looking up at my wife. “She looks like you.”

Daisy snorted, hiding her laugh behind a Diet Coke.

Shannon rolled her eyes, but smiled when Stevie’s daughter walked toward her. “Leena, this is Harper. Harper, meet Leena. And look!” She tugged on Harper’s dress—the same one Leena had on. “You match!”

Harper looked at them both, then held out a toy dinosaur for Leena. “Play?”

Shannon sat down on the floor, and the two toddlers each settled in her lap.

“Well, that’s adorable,” Luke said, clinking his beer against my soda.

“Are they always like that?”

Beckett laughed. “One time I interrupted girls’ night to see them all wearing differing levels of obscene t-shirts. This is tame by comparison.”

“I think Daisy’s left eyeball is looking at me,” Luke said. “It’s like the Mona Lisa, following me around the room.”

“She left it out on the dresser last night,” Ty said. “Nightmare fuel.”

I chuckled, brushing a hand over my mouth while the guys settled into small talk. The Mayhem kids were all downstairs in the arcade from the sound of the distant beeps and laughter, so the living room was relatively calm.

Beckett gestured toward the baby. “You guys still thinking about adopting Kai?”

Ty shook his head. “This is actually Kai’s last week with us. He’s going back to live with family.”

None of us said anything for a minute, the weight of his life as a foster parent hitting somewhere deep in my chest.

“That’s hard,” I said.

“Imagining these kids without anyone to love them is harder than letting him go.” Ty’s voice stayed even, but his thumb brushed over Kai’s tiny shoulder. “Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. Otherwise, how the hell do I keep doing this?”

I looked around the room—the lights, the noise from the kitchen, the pig probably still on the loose somewhere, my wife laughing with her friends, my daughter safe at her side.

This wasn’t how I’d ever pictured retirement. Not even close. But sitting here, snow outside and family inside…

I wanted this someday.

Beckett pointed at me. “I know that look. Do you see that look, Ty?”

Ty smirked, one side of his mouth tipping up under his mustache. “He’s not ready yet.”

“Someday.” Beckett sat back, crossing his feet on the coffee table, his eyes still on me. “When you’re ready to hang up the skates for good, we’ll find you a spot here.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Appreciate it.”