Page 62 of Meant for Mayhem

“Not without changing my whole timeline.” The words were muffled, my head still down. “I’d have to go back through the interview process again, starting over.”

“Would it be worth it, though? To not be sad.”

And fuck, I was sad. Even sitting through presentations today was hard, imagining how much worse Lori would get before the inevitable end.

“Watching my mom lose her mobility is something I’ll never forget,” Mikko said.

The words were so unexpected, I sat up. “How old were you?”

“Five.”

I took a page out of his book and kept my mouth shut, giving him the option of elaborating or leaving it there. But whatever weird energy was in the air today had him opening up too.

“Maybe every kid grows up thinking their parents are superheroes, but mine were. They were Olympians, pushing every boundary set in front of them. Invincible. Until she wasn’t.”

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

“I was old enough to understand how bad it was, but not to understand that a wheelchair wasn’t a death sentence. And my father…” Mikko shook his head, then dropped pasta into the last pot on the stove. “He was never the same.”

“Ah, Daddy issues. I’m well acquainted with those.”

He smirked, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes.

“I did not grow up thinking my parents were superheroes. In fact, I think I knew how terrible they were far younger than I should have understood.”

I wasn’t sure if I was more surprised by the fact Mikko had been so vulnerable with me, or that I was continuing, but I couldn’t stop now that I’d started.

“My mom left us when I was in kindergarten, just poof. Gone. Never heard from again.”

“It was you and your brothers with your dad?”

“Yeah. And my Nana, but she wasn’t much better. I already didn’t talk much, not willing to say anything to upset the many volatile personalities in my house. But when she left, it got so much worse.”

Mikko turned to look at me, seeing exactly what I wasn’t saying. But I couldn’t explain myself like that, couldn’t admit that my entire career path was some sort of vengeance quest to make sure no little kid felt the way I did.

“Beckett’s dad was an alcoholic too.”

“I knew that. Neither of you drink.”

I pointed a finger at him, unsurprised he’d already picked up on that.

“David and my dad were best friends, so we were together a lot.” I rested my chin on my hands again, too tired to even sit upright. “Lori was my superhero. I used to dream she’d come to the house in the middle of the night and steal me away. The thought of losing her⁠—”

My eyes filled with tears so fast, I couldn’t contain them this time.

“Sorry,” I said, wiping at my face.

But Mikko didn’t give me time to say anything else. He rounded the island and gently tugged me off the barstool before I could protest. One second I was trying to hide the tears. The next, I was wrapped in his arms. Not tight enough to trap me. Not tentative enough to ask for permission. Just there, like he’d decided I shouldn’t have to carry this one alone.

One hand settled between my shoulder blades, slowly gliding up and down my back, steady and comforting that caught me off-guard. The kind of touch that made me realize how desperately I needed someone to hold me until he did.

I let out a shaky breath against his chest. “She’s not dying yet.”

“I know.”

No platitudes. No promises he couldn’t make. Just those two words, but maybe that was why it worked. He wasn’t trying to convince me everything would be okay. He was reminding me that it was okay to not be okay.

After another long moment, I finally leaned back enough to look at him. “Sorry for crying all over your t-shirt.”