Page 105 of Moms of Mayhem
Shannon let out a dramatic sigh and collapsed on the padded mats like she’d just taken a hit to the chest. “God, same. Being straight is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I grinned as I refilled Shannon’s bowlof queso. “That’s bold coming from someone who tore their ACL doing karaoke.”
“I stand by it,” Shannon said, dunking a chip. “Men are exhausting. Knees heal.”
Stevie snorted. “So, what you're saying is, if you could choose, you’d be a lesbian?”
“Fuck yeah. If I could get a cute wife, a baby like Harper, and someone to take out the trash, I’d switch teams faster than you can say Subaru.”
Tate choked on her sip, coughing into her hoodie sleeve.
I laid back on my mat, giggling like I was a teenager again. This right here—this weird, lactose-fueled estrogen bubble of oversharing and laughing until your abs hurt—this was something I hadn’t known I’d needed until it became the best part of my week.
Harper let out a squeal from the playpen, taking a mini hockey stick to a foam puck like she was gunning for a starting spot on the Mayhem.
Shannon raised her Diet Coke. “To you lovesick idiots.”
“To babysitters who make it possible,” Stevie added.
I raised my mason jar. “To my gut. May it someday recover from all this cheese.”
After a beat, Tate held hers up too. “To not hating this.”
We all looked at her.
She blinked, surprised by her own admission. “I mean. This might be the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s kind of nice.”
“Careful,” Shannon said. “You’re one margarita away from a friendship bracelet with these two.”
“I love friendship bracelets,” Stevie said. “Should we braid them or use beads?”
I clinked my jar against hers. “Definitelybeads.”
Everyone left an hour later, and I grabbed my sage green sweatshirt, turning off the last of the lights and shutting down the computer at the front desk. The studio was quiet now, still warm from laughter and body heat, smelling faintly of disinfectant and limes.
I stepped outside and pulled my hands inside the sleeves. Streetlights lined the road, their glow pooling in soft halos over the pavement. A dusting of fresh snow made the world feel tucked in, like the town itself had pulled up a blanket and gone to bed.
I loved it here—this little town, this stretch of street, this new rhythm of my life that had crept in so quietly, I hadn’t realized how much it had started to feel like mine again.
The cold bit at my cheeks as I stepped onto the salted sidewalk, each step scraping softly beneath my boots. The headlights flashed when I clicked the keys, revealing Beckett leaning against the hood.
His hands were tucked into his coat pockets, hood up, head down like he was just casually hanging out in 20-degree weather. When my gaze met his, my heart did that fluttering thing it always did around him.
He straightened up as I reached him. “I was wondering how long queso night would go.” My breath fogged as a laugh squeaked out past my lips. “You knew it was queso night?”
“Stevie texted me a picture of Harper trying to eat a chip with her whole face.” He shrugged. “Told me I should wait around.”
I stepped closer, leaning into his chest. His arms looped around my back, holding me in place. “What if I hadn’t come out for another hour?”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “Then I would’ve had some alone time with your windshield wipers.”
I laughed, too tired to pretend I didn’t like this. Like him.
“What are you doing here, Beckett?”
His mouth dropped to hover over mine. “Can’t stop thinking about this little mouth, so I figured it was time to kidnap you again. Seems that’s the only way either of us has any time.”
His lips touched down on mine, once, twice, and I sank into his hold, not caring that we stood in the middle of the sidewalk.
