The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

For God’s sake. I stop and throw all the shoes into the shoebox as the boys continue dragging my suitcase into the house. We must look like slobs to the rest of the street.

Every day, fifteen pairs of shoes are scattered everywhere. Every single night, I put them all back into the shoebox. Yeesh.

I walk into the house and through the living area out to the kitchen and frown as I take in the sight.

The dishwasher is pulled out from the wall, and Fletcher is on his back underneath it.

There are tools scattered all over the kitchen floor, and he is shining the flashlight on his phone up into it. “Hi, Mom,” he calls. “I’m fixing the dishwasher.”

“Great.” I frown at my mother. “Does he know what he’s doing?” I mouth.

“No.” She widens her eyes and shrugs. “He doesn’t.”

God.

“How was it, love?” Mom smiles as she pulls me into a hug.

“It was wonderful. Thank you so much for watching the kids.” Woofy, our dog, comes flying around the corner with a huge cone on his head. “What the heck happened to Woofy?” I ask.

“Oh, he chased a squirrel under a metal fence and cut his back,” Mom says.

“Oh no. Is he okay?” I bend and pull my faithful friend’s face to mine. “Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Yes, but he got stitches, and now he needs to wear a cone so that he can’t chew them out.”

“Ugh, why didn’t you tell me over the phone?”

“Because we wanted you to relax. I’m going to take a shower, and then I want to hear everything.” She disappears upstairs.

“Okay.” I exhale heavily as I look around at the chaos.

“Where are my presents?” Patrick asks.

“They’re wrapped up. You can have them tomorrow. I have to unpack my entire suitcase to find them, and it’s too late now,” I say.

“Aww.” He frowns as he puts his hands on his hips in disgust. “I’ve been waiting up for this.”

“I thought you were waiting up for me.” I smirk as I tickle him and pull him into a hug.

“I was, really—I was just pretending.” He corrects himself for being insensitive.

I glance over and see Harry sitting on the couch. He never demands my attention but needs it more than anyone. I go and sit beside him, and Patrick flops on my lap.

“What have I missed, Harry?” I ask.

“Everything,” he says, clearly unimpressed. “You’ve been gone too long, and I don’t want you going away again. I was getting out of control at school with you not here.”

I smile and mess up his hair. “Okay, no more trips.”

“Do you promise?” he asks.

“I promise.”

Fletcher climbs up from underneath the dishwasher and turns it on. “I fixed it, Mom,” he announces.

I smile. Fletcher likes to fix things. I think he thinks that’s what he should do as the man of the house. “Thanks, buddy.” I hold my arms out for him, and he comes and hugs me. “I missed you.” I squeeze him tight. “Thanks for taking care of everyone.”

I’m not joking; I’m really not going away again. I missed them desperately.