Finding Mayhem

by Layla Frost

her sitting on the couch, a medical drama on TV. It’d been a while since I’d caught the reruns in the middle of the night, but I remembered it having a wordless theme song. Yet as it played, she quietly mouthed along. “What’re you singing?” I asked, making her jump. She opened her mouth, the denial on her tongue before she shook her head. “Whatever, this night can’t get any more embarrassing.” With a sigh, she paused the show. “I made up lyrics about touching butts for the song. Any further questions?” Yeah. Why the fuck are you so goddamn cute? I didn’t think she’d appreciate the question or my word choice, so I kept it to myself. “Thought you said you just went shopping.” “I did.” “Then where the hell’s the rest of your food?” She rolled her eyes at me. “I’m one woman, Ward.” “A pregnant woman.” Not that I knew what that meant beyond the pickles with ice cream cravings they showed on TV. I thought it was all about moderation and shit, but I must’ve been wrong. Her fridge was nothing but lean meats, vegetables, and more vegetables. She did have the pickles, but no ice cream in sight. “I have to eat healthy.” She put her hand on her stomach and looked down at it, her face solemn and her voice soft. “Squish counts on me.” Fuckin’ hell, damn, shit. The wind was knocked from my lungs, my chest tightened, and my gut twisted like I’d gone four rounds with a kicking donkey. I bottled all that shit up and focused on what was important. Finding Mac and Squish something healthy to ...