Page 11 of Moms of Mayhem
I puckered my lips, trying to think through my words. Because no matter the circumstances his life came about, nothing about becoming Jace’s mom was a mistake, and I never wanted him to think that.
“You understand the whole birds and the bees thing,” I said, settling on a partial truth.
Jace cringed, his whole body recoiling into the chair. “God Mom, no.”
This time I did laugh, the sound genuine as it rumbled out of my chest. “Relax. I’m not giving you the blow by blow.”
Jace put a hand over his mouth, fake gagging.
I laughed harder. “Stop. I promise.”
His attention was on me, and his hands settled in his lap. If it took me opening up to Jace for him to want to open up in return, then I could do that.
“I was 19, a freshman at Arizona State, and homesick as all get out. A month in, and I regretted not following Ty out east. Then, at least I would have known someone, even if I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. We were playing Michigan in one of the early season games, and I went,thinking at least being in the same building as Beckett was a taste of home.”
“Beckett Conway?” Jace asked, his eyes alight with hero worship the way they were every time he talked of our hometown star. “You were friends with him?”
“Not really.” I shrugged. “He was Ty’s best friend, so we spent a lot of time together over the years, but I wouldn’t have called usfriends.He was a piece of home though, a connection to Ty, and I was grasping at straws.”
Jace sighed, looking out the window again, and my heart hurt for him. Unfortunately, our cross-country move meant he understood what it meant to feel new and lost.
“Anyway,” I started my story again. “I heard the Michigan hockey team was going to a house party after, and so I got it in my head I should go too and find Beckett.”
“And that’s how you met Dad.”
I nodded, my mind replaying the memory. I hadn’t just met Ryan that night; I’d given him my virginity and gotten pregnant, all in one fell swoop.
“Underage drinking is bad”—I shot my son a look, and he smirked—“but I was nervous and lonely and drank too much. Your dad rescued me before I could make any terrible decisions and walked me back to the dorms. After that, we were inseparable, and I transferred to Michigan to be with him. Then you came along.”
“You hate him now, don’t you?” Jace asked, his voice quieter as he studied his hands in his lap.
I turned right onto River Street toward our row house, my headlights shining on the sparkling snow. “Hate is a strong word, and I don’t like it. So, no, I don’t hate him.”
Jace sighed, then pulled his headphones over his head and put them in his backpack. “Well, I do.”
Tires crunched over the packed snow in our driveway, and I pulled into the carport Ty had put up behind my house. The moment it was in park, I reached both hands across the center console and grabbed my son’s cheeks, pulling him toward me until our foreheads touched.
“I love you so much it’s absolutely stupid.” He started to pull back from me, and I held tighter, needing him to hear my words. “Like, redefined the word for me. The moment I saw that little pink line saying you were on the way, my life changed forever. And for the better. But knowing you, watching you grow, seeing who you’re becoming”—my face tingled, a mixture of nostalgia for the little boy he once was and rage-fueled tears burning my eyes for the pain my son was in—“it’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“Please don’t cry.”
I laughed, then pulled back and opened my car door. “Okay. I won’t. But even on our worst days, Jace, I love you more than anyone in this entire world. Throwing punches in a hockey game doesn’t change that.”
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.” Jace got out of the car, then opened the trunk and pulled his hockey bag out, heading for the shed to unload it.
“Get your gear aired out, then come bring me your PlayStation remotes and your headphones.”
He turned back to me, his forehead creased under his hat. “I thought I wasn’t in trouble?”
I hummed, then held out my hand, palm up. “I said throwing punches and getting thrown out of a hockey game didn’t make me love you less, not that you weren’t in trouble.”
With an eye roll fit for Sisyphus, Jace reached intohis bag and grabbed his headphones, slapping them into my open palm.
I took them, then walked up the back steps to the kitchen door. The alarm beeped when I opened it, and I reached over to turn it off. Ty had insisted on installing one since I refused to live with him, and it did offer me peace of mind sleeping in an empty house when Jace was with his dad.
Flicking on the lights, I headed toward the fridge on the far side of the kitchen, refilling my water cup before heading upstairs. After living a sad beige life with Ryan for so long, my house looked like an explosion of color. The cabinets were a deep magenta, the dishes a mismatched collection of sapphires and florals, and there was a vintage bread tin that made me happier than it probably should have. The open shelves were full of hand-painted mugs, brass accents, and spices I’d mostly bought for the pretty jars. It was a little chaotic and a little cozy, but it felt likeme,something I craved after 15 years of trying to fit a mold I was never made for.
Jace came in and locked the door behind him, not making eye contact as he stomped down the hallway toward the living room. He yanked open the bin I stored his video game gear in and tossed a remote my way. With quick reflexes, I caught it. “A week.”
