Page 117 of Moms of Mayhem
“Not planning on it,” I said.
“That’s what old people say before they break a hip,” Delgado chimed in.
I gave him a deadpan look. “You’re, what, five foot seven?”
“Five nineand a half,” he shot back.
“With skates on,” Molly added under her breath.
The chirping continued, loud and fast, everyone talking over each other. I grinned so wide it hurt.
Then the doors to the rink opened again, and the second Mikko and Logan stepped out onto the ice, every single kid wentsilent.
Mikko glided effortlessly, calm and collected, eyes sweeping over the group like he was already breaking them down by line.
Logan, naturally, was the opposite.
“Well, well,well,” he called out, dragging out the last word. “Is this the mighty Mayhem I’ve heard so much about? I expected more. I mean, half of you look like you still nap after cartoons.”
Delgado’s eyes went huge. “Is thatLogan Parrish?”
Molly nodded, starstruck. “That’s Mikko Laaksonen.”
Jace looked from Mikko to Logan, then to me. “What the hell kind of practice is this?”
“A special one,” I said, trying not to laugh at their faces. “They’re running drills with us today.”
Logan gave an exaggerated bow. “Try to keep up, kiddos. And no crying when I dangle you into next week.”
“I’m not crying,” Miles said immediately. “You are.”
Mikko skated up beside me, deadpan. “You sure they’re ready for this?”
I grinned. “They’re ready. You?”
His eyes tracked the group of suddenly nervous teenagers huddled by the boards. “Definitely.”
Ty blew the whistle, and the fun began.
34
The sound of barking and shouting and overlapping voices hit me as soon as I stepped onto Beckett’s porch. I pushed the door open and stepped inside to the unmistakablewhumpof pizza boxes hitting a table, followed by Ty yelling something about pineapple on pizza being a war crime.
Rowdy slid a little on the hardwood while he hopped over to me, tail wagging wildly. I knelt to scratch behind his ears as the rest of the chaos unfolded around me.
“Emmy!” Logan yelled when he spotted me, holding a slice of pizza in one hand and a soda in the other.
Lori popped her head out from the kitchen. “You made it! We have pizza in here, and Shannon made a salad because good babysitters make their kids eat their vegetables.”
“You’re hardly a kid, and I don’t think I can qualify as a babysitter anymore.”
I was more than surprised to see Shannon here. She was perched on a barstool at the island, looking slightlyoverwhelmed. She met my eyes with a cautious kind of smile and gave a tiny wave.
I glanced toward Beckett, who had just emerged from the kitchen, a bottle of root beer in hand.
“Babysitter?” I asked quietly.
He came up beside me, then tugged me down the hall, just out of sight. The moment we were alone, he backed me into the wall, and his mouth was on mine. I sank into the kiss, incapable of saying no, even though my kid was just around the corner.
