Scoring Off The Ice (Ice Kings #2) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,78
you want?”
“Maybe I want us to be a family. I am his mother.”
She’s not. Paisley is. She can’t actually be serious, except her expression says otherwise. Holy crap. Has she always been crazy and hidden it well? And what in the hell do I do?
If I say anything else, it might come back to haunt me. But oh, there is much to say to this woman.
I’m fuming, shaking so hard I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this pissed off.
And scared.
She’s his mom. I know how American courts are. They prefer kids to be with their moms over their dads and it doesn’t even matter if the mom in question is selfish and only thinking of herself in all of it.
“I’ll wait for your call, Mikah. Enjoy your evening.”
I climb into my Land Rover, even still fighting against cringing when I see tears in her eyes. I knew Angela before we spent the weekend together. She was always fun. Up for a party. Never once did I see this side of her.
I don’t like it as much as she deserves to feel this way.
My heart is still racing as I pull onto the streets and has not slowed when I enter my building. I have one thing and one thing only on my mind:
Protect Angelo and figure out a way he can be saved from that woman.
I have Luke on my phone before I enter the elevator, tapping my foot impatiently, waiting for him to answer.
“Luke Morgenson,” he says.
I skip the pleasantries. “It’s Mikah. I need to meet with you. Tonight. Can you come to my place?”
“Mikah. What’s this about? I called Angela this morning as you know...”
“She showed up at my practice. Asking about him. She wants to see him. I told her to call you, but I need to talk to you. Come up with a plan.”
“I can schedule a meeting tomorrow morning, but...”
“No. Tonight. It has to be.”
My head is spinning. She could do anything. She could show up at my building. Demand to see him. She could call the cops and say I’ve taken him.
I have no legal claim to him and I’m not yet on his birth certificate. As far as I know, it’s still processing. And it’s possible by not entertaining listening to Angela for too long tonight, I’ve royally pissed her off.
“Please, Luke. I’m worried.” And terrified out of my mind. “Please tonight.”
He sighs, and I imagine the man I’ve met with several times running a hand through his thick, black hair, bumping his glasses as he does it. “Give me an hour. But you’re paying for this.”
“Anything.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Paisley
* * *
It’s late. I know Mikah’s schedule now like the back of my hand.
It’s unlike him not to call to let me know he’s on his way home. It’s more unlike me I don’t hear his door open and close when he does get home.
And never, in the last week especially, has he not returned one of my texts within a decent amount of time. Now, it’s an hour after he said he was going to be home and I’ve already stopped by his place twice only to not hear anything on the other side of his door.
Which concerns me more. I’ve met Viola, the new nanny. She’s as old as my own mom, divorced, yet never had kids and so when she left her husband and his cheating, pathetic ass — her words — she started to nanny so she could spend her time with kids.
Personally, I like the fact she doesn’t look at Mikah with fuck me stamped on her forehead.
Still, it’s strange even she isn’t answering the door. She’s only been there a few days, but I’ve seen her plenty and we’ve talked quite a bit. I like her.
All of this is weird. Is Angelo sick? Did something happen to Mikah at practice? I imagine having a puck flying through the air and skating on ice isn’t always the safest sport in the world.
I’ll give it one more try and if Mikah’s not home, I’ll call him again. Then Viola. I have her number since Mikah named her Angelo’s emergency contact.
My phone rings in my hand, scaring me so badly I toss it in there. It flips through my hands, into the air, and again before I finally manage to catch it before it hits the floor.
I don’t look at the screen, just press my thumb to the slider. “Hello? Mikah?”
“No, you hooker! It’s Pippa. Your friend, remember?” I cringe.