Page 184 of Offside Devil

Last night, when I was reading to Aiden, he looked up at me and said, “I miss Mira. I love her.”

Just like that. Like it’s easy to know when you love someone. Like you don’t need to wade through years of tangled-up emotions to even get close to the word.

I guess, for Aiden, it’s not that many years of emotions to sort through. Maybe for him, it is simple.

As for me, I can’t even finish reading a single resume Hanna has sent me. None of the applicants are right.

If I’m going to let some person I barely know come live with me, they need to be able to deal with my erratic work hours. It would be nice if they knew how to sing Aiden’s favorite Italian lullabies, since I’ve butchered them every night this week. Also, if they had long black hair, a wardrobe consisting exclusively of cotton sundresses, a sharp tongue that can also be unbelievably soft…

I drag my hands down my face.

I’m not ready to be back at practice today. My head is a mess. I can’t stop thinking about?—

“Mira McNeil.”

I slam to a stop as the voice echoes down the hallway. Am I officially losing my shit?

Then I hear it again.

Hanna’s voice.

“No, you know who I’m talking about,” she sneers to whoever’s on the other end of her call. “The dark-haired bitch Zane had working as his nanny? She was everywhere—on the jumbotron, in publicity pictures.” She pauses for a second and then cackles. “Yes! She probably called the paparazzi herself. I wouldn’t put it past her. She was just latching onto Zane because of the money, but I finally got rid of her.”

Something hot and searing settles in my stomach.

Hanna laughs again. “Right? Now, I just need to get rid of that runt of his and we could be perfect together.”

I don’t need to hear anymore.

I charge around the corner, almost running into Hanna.

She stumbles back, her phone clattering against the hard floor. She yelps in surprise, but the sound dies in her throat when she sees me. I watch the color drain out of her face inch by inch.

“Go ahead.” I snatch her phone off the ground and hold it out to her. “Finish your call. I’d love to hear more about how you plan to get rid of my son.”

Her lip trembles. “Zane, I wasn’t—I didn’t?—”

“Should I ask you if I have any messages?” I snarl. “Or are you going to fucking lie to me again?”

Hanna is shaking from the top of her red head to her sharp stilettos. But she doesn’t deny a word.

I lean close. “Admit it. Now. Did Mira try to get me a message?”

She opens her mouth twice before she can force the word out. “She called me and said Aiden was sick, but I didn’t?—”

“Did she try to get me a message?” I repeat.

“I didn’t know it was serious,” she blathers on. “If I’d known Aiden was going to the hospital, then I would have told you!”

“Says the woman who wants to get rid of him.”

“I didn’t mean that! I-I was joking.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not.” I drop the phone to the floor and crush it beneath my heel. “This was a work phone, so it’s mine now. You can leave your laptop, keys, and credit cards in the press room. I’ll pick it up after practice.”

“What?” She wilts. “Am I?—”

“You’re fucking fired.”

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