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She’d stood there blinking a long moment. Then pulled out her phone and searched for flights. Booked herself on a one p.m. flight to Amsterdam, with a layover in LaGuardia.
Then she’d texted Yannick and told him she’d be on crew for the game.
To which he’d responded almost immediately, given it was afternoon in Prague, with a question mark and an emoji of a doctor.
She sent him back a gif of Batman offering a thumbs-up and went to pack. Her ribs felt fine-ish. Nothing some pain killers wouldn’t solve. And she’d be extra careful.
Now, she toted her backpack to the kitchen and set it by the island.
Sibba sat drinking a cup of tea. Next to her sat Pippa, an eye on a tablet. Fraser had figured out how to cast the images from the security screens to a tablet he’d purchased, which made watching the screens that much more accessible.
Iris couldn’t get past the notion that they’d all been freaked out by Gripe’s ability to track them down. She’d heard conversations of sending Imani back to Lauchtenland sooner rather than later.
At least they’d figured out the plot to assassinate the royals, or at least Prince John—something Gunner Ferguson, head of security in Lauchtenland, had been conferring with Pippa on for the last few days. Apparently, they’d increased security to the stadium and installed bulletproof glass in the royals’ box.
So, everybody needed to calm down and get back to their lives, which was exactly what Hud had been doing, probably.
“Where are you going?” The question came from her mother as she pulled fresh-baked apple muffins from the oven and dumped them onto a cooling rack. She used her hot pads to turn them over, the aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg nearly causing Iris to reach for one.
“I have a flight to Amsterdam that leaves in four hours,” she said.
Silence around the kitchen, from Sibba, to Pippa, to her mother.
“Oh,” her mother said. “I thought…” She turned back to the oven.
“Mom. I have a game. And a life…” Iris glanced at Pippa, who just lifted a shoulder. And Sibba made a face. The woman wore a pair of boyfriend jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, her long raven hair pulled back in a singular braid. She was smart, European, and exotic, and Iris could admit feeling a little off her mooring with the woman. But when Sibba had said she not only followed the ELF but knew a few of the teams, and then switched over to Italian, Iris decided Jonas had chosen well.
Jonas seemed downright undone by the woman and the fact that she had decided to stay in America. A couple days ago, she’d overheard Jonas talking with Fraser about her EOD skills and whether Fraser’s super-elite protection team could use a bomb expert.
She just wanted to get back to her boring life, thank you.
One that, for a little while, she’d thought might include one very large wide receiver.
Perhaps she’d been hit harder than she thought, because she’d gotten way too used to seeing Hudson Bly sitting in the kitchen, eating her mother’s cookies, or even helping her dad in the vineyard over the last week.
I’m not your dad, who is going to push you away when I’m hurt or scared.
No, apparently he was the breed that left in the middle of the night.
At least she waited until after breakfast. “Mom—”
“Let me at least make you an omelet.” Her mother turned then, a smile back on her face. “Of course you need to leave, honey.” She came up to her, pulled her into an embrace. “I just like having you around, is all.”
Iris folded her arms around her mother’s frame. She seemed thinner, a little more fragile. And maybe she was imagining it, but in the light, her mother’s skin seemed almost…yellow?
Jenny returned to the refrigerator and pulled out eggs, cheese, bacon. “Will you see Hudson in Amsterdam?”
She poured herself a cup of coffee from the station, then slid onto a stool. “I don’t know what he’s up to.”
“Oh.” Her mother set the eggs on the counter. “He went to Montana to visit his mom. He got a call from his brother last night, late, who said that he should come home.”
She stilled. Her mother was cracking eggs into a bowl. “What?”
“He left early. I was on the sofa, and we chatted for a bit. He said to tell you goodbye—he didn’t want to wake you. I sent cookies with him.”
Of course she did. She sighed, though.
Her mother looked up. Blinked at her. Frowned. “Is there trouble between you two?”
