“I hate him.” From the cowlick on the back of his head in the exact same spot as his dad’s all the way down to the scar on Ian’s ankle from the dog who bit him when he was five because his dad goaded him into petting the snarly poodle.

She let out one of those deep, soul-weary Mom sighs that seemed to go on forever. “Well, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Take a deep breath and give Alex a chance. We’re all trying to do our best in this world and making the best decisions we can at the time with the information we have.”

If he was 10 percent as good of a person as his mom was, he’d take her advice. But he really was too much his father’s son. The truth of it made him sick to his stomach, but there it was.

“Bye, Mom.”

He hung up and tossed his phone down on the bed. It landed with a soft thump next to his empty suitcase. How in the hell was he going to make it two weeks with Shelby? Alex he could ignore—or at least seem to. There was no pretending he could not notice Shelby.

“You are so fucked, Petrov.”

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

In the past, Ian looked for one thing when it came to finding a seat on the team charter jet—Christensen’s big head. If he didn’t see him, he’d definitely hear him because the guy never shut up. It was one of the things they had in common—big mouths always running at full speed.

This time, however, Ian climbed the jetway stairs and kept his gaze aimed at armrest level, hoping to spot an empty row that he could park in and snarl at anyone who tried to sit next to him. He made it three steps down the aisle before Lucy got up from her seat and blocked his path forward. She had dark bags under her eyes and her ten-month-old on one hip.

“Here, take Freya,” she said as she held the baby out to him.

Ian didn’t mean to take the baby. It just sort of happened. It was like seeing a flash of a defender’s jersey in his peripheral and bracing for a hit; he just let instinct take over. Of course that didn’t mean he had any idea what he was doing. As he held the kid out at arm’s length, she eyed him warily.

Back at you, Small Fry.