Page 2 of Drop the Mitts

“You’d know the legal term.”

Grace pretended to consider it, tilting her head toward the ceiling. “Is this where I remind you that last time I went to a game, I spent the first period checking my emails and the second cleaning beer off my Fendi bag?”

Jenna burst out laughing. “Okay, to be fair, that was an accident. Country isn’t normally that clumsy. Ooh! And we have a suite this time. With food.” She paused for a moment. “Am I swaying you?”

“It’s not a terrible offer.”

“Hm. Excellent. That’s what I was going for.”

“But I’m exhausted.”

“You’re also boring.”

Grace scoffed. “That . . . is not true. I have a career and?—”

“You’re a workaholic with the social life of an old library book. Which I can say because you’re hot as hell and make more than Country and I put together. So. You can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”

Grace sighed. “Jenna, I love you, but I genuinely don’t know if I have the energy to?—”

“You could analyze the arena’s commercial real estate value between periods. Or discuss the legal ramifications of Henley breaking his contract.” Jenna must’ve sensed her resolve cracking because she went in for the kill. “You only have a few more months here. Don’t you want to hang out with your best friends?”

Grace groaned. “You’re my only friends.”

“My point exactly. Come out with us and meetnewfriends. And I promise, Country’s a great bouncer. He can keep the feral single men away from you. I won’t even let him hold his beer. He’ll have to keep it on the counter like a toddler.”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll come. What time?”

Jenna shrieked into the phone, and Grace pulled it away from her ear. “Seven. I’ll meet you at the front.”

“Bring Hope. That’s the only reason I’m agreeing to this.”

“Well, of course.”

Grace shook her head as she hung up, staring out at the Calgary skyline. One night wouldn’t kill her. And, if she was being honest, her rental was feeling a bit lonely.

She turned from the window and found her bag. Might as well clear up a few loose ends before heading out for the evening. She pulled out her laptop and scanned her emails, only to pause halfway down her scroll.

Her brows pinched. The subject line hit like a punch to the sternum.

Petition to Revoke Consent for Adoption.

Grace’s hand hovered over the mouse, suddenly useless, her fingers numb as she clicked the email open. The words on the screen blurred at first, then sharpened into something cold and undeniable. The birth mother was trying to get Hope back.

Her stomach plummeted.

No. No, this wasn’t possible. This was done. This wasn’t some half-baked agreement or rushed paperwork—it was ironclad. She’d made sure of it. She didn’t make mistakes.

But here it was. A legal petition. A challenge.

The paragraphs swam before her eyes, but she forced herself to focus. She ran through everything she knew about Alberta adoption law, ticking off every safeguard she’d put in place.

The birth mother had signed away her rights.

It was a closed adoption.

Jenna and Country had full custody.

Unless…

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