Page 101 of Moms of Mayhem
I sank into the driver’s seat, started the car, and muttered, “Yeah. Me too.”
We were halfway down River Street when my phone rang through the car speakers and Gavin’s name lit up the screen.
Mom raised a brow. “That’s the agent who says you’re his most frustrating client?”
With a sigh, I hit accept. “Hey, Gav.”
“About time, Sunshine. I’ve been calling since sunrise.”
“I’ve been at PT.”
“Well, some of us have jobs that don’t involve foam rollers. But speaking of, how’s the hip?”
“Great. Strength and mobility are back where they should be. Getting on the ice any day now. Make sure the Yeti are paying Emmy well—she’s fantastic.”
“Good. One less excuse for the Yeti to stall out. Still nothing on the renewal paperwork, by the way.”
I shifted in my seat, fingers tightening on the wheel.
“Beckett,” Gavin sighed, already annoyed. “Do you want me to start making calls or not?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I always thought I’d be a Yeti until the day I was done. I’m still waiting to hear something from them.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear something fromyou. Do you want to play next season? Do I start shopping you around like you’re on clearance?”
“I’m not on clearance.”
“Then stop acting like it,” he snapped. “They’ve had your file open for three weeks and haven’t made a move.”
I didn’t say anything— didn’t know whattosay.
Gavin sighed again, this time more tired than pissed. “Look. Just think about it. But don’t wait too long. There’s only so many teams with room for an old winger with a rebuilt hip and a habit of ghosting his agent.”
“You’re a real light in my life, Gav.”
“That’s why you keep me. Don’t screw it up.” He hung up before I even said goodbye.
The silence in the car stretched all of three seconds.
“So,” Mom said, her voice calm but probing. “What doyouwant to do next year?”
I kept my eyes on the road. “Before the injury? Easy answer. I wasn’t done. Not even close. But now…”
She nodded, not pushing.
And that was the problem. I didn’t know.
I could see it now—staying in Linwood. Coaching Jace. Helping Mom. Waking up next to Emmy wearing that oversized hoodie I never intended for her to give it back. Sunday mornings. Pond skates. A quiet life.
It wasn’t the life I’d planned, but it didn’t feel like giving up, either.
“It’s something to think about,” Mom said, her voice soft. “Just make sure it’s whatyouwant.”
“Yeah,” I murmured.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, Mom was nodding off in the passenger seat. I helped her inside and guided her to her new bedroom off the foyer. She barely made it to the bed before flopping back against the pillows and mumbling something about brain fog.
“Love you,” she said, eyes already closed.
