Page 119 of Moms of Mayhem
He caught me staring and tilted his head, a question in his eyes and the barest hint of a smile on his face. I gave him one back, just enough to mask the ache. Because what else could I do?
“Yeah,” I said softly, barely more than a whisper. “It’s kind of perfect.”
Beckett grinned. “That’s what I said.”
And I wished, more than anything, that he meant it in the forever kind of way.
Lori came in again, waving her hand at the TV. “Alright, game’s starting. Get your butts in seats. If I can’t fly to Italy to watch Mason play in the Olympics, I’m sure not missing even a second of this. Jace gets the floor because he’s a child. I get the recliner because this is my house. Logan?—”
“Gets the couch because I’m the fan favorite,” Logan finished, tossing popcorn in his mouth.
“Fan favorite of who?” Jace slid onto the floor in front of Lori’s chair. “Your mom?”
“And also, God,” Logan replied, dropping onto the couch.
He hadn’t even settled in before Mikko shoved him back onto the floor next to Jace. “You heard her. Children on the floor.”
The first game started—Sweden vs USA—and the heckling began. Logan argued that neither team stood a chance against Canada, while Mikko just seemed to hate on anyone from Sweden. Ty didn’t say much but sat on a barstool behind the couch with his arms crossed, eyes alight with happiness. Beckett’s leg bounced, leaning forward on thecouch, pointing out plays to Jace, coaching even now. Lori had tears in her eyes, glancing between her son on the TV and the room of boys around her.
I stood in the kitchen, feeling too fragile to be a part of it all.
“Absolutely never repeat this,” Shannon said around a celery stick smothered in ranch, her words quiet enough so only I could hear it, “but hockey isn’t that bad.”
I huffed out a laugh, barely audible over the roar of the TV and the boys shouting at each other from the floor.
“I mean, it’s still mostly overgrown man-children skating around chasing a rubber disk,” Shannon went on. “But occasionally, it’s tolerable. When there’s good snacks and no dads throwing bourbon bottles.”
My stomach twisted. Her voice was too flippant, too light.
I leaned my hip against the counter, arms crossed tight to keep from hugging her. “You okay?”
Shannon shot me a look that was all dry disbelief. “Of course. I’m living my best life. Two kinds of dip, a whole functioning family I didn’t genetically come from, and a boy band of hockey delinquents fighting about geography. What’s not to love?”
I didn’t answer. Just watched as Jace tilted his head toward Beckett, absorbing every word like gospel. His legs were stretched out long in front of him, one socked foot nudging Logan in the side as he laughed at something on-screen. For a moment, it looked like everything I wanted for him. Steady, safe, easy.
But Beckett was leaving soon, and I didn’t know how to soften the blow that the man he’d come to adore was headed back to the world that had taken his dad from him, too.
Different circumstances, same outcome: an empty seat in the bleachers.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He’s going to be wrecked.”
Shannon didn't ask who. She knew.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “But look on the bright side. At least he’s not going to be devastated alone. You’ll be sobbing into your puzzles, and I’ll be upstairs drowning in my own abandonment issues. We can form a support group. Cry into carbs. Trade trauma like Pokémon cards.”
I let out a watery laugh that cracked halfway through. “God, you’re so messed up.”
“The good ones always are.” She bumped my shoulder with hers. “Don’t cry in the queso. I just got it the right amount of spicy.”
But my eyes burned. Because Beckett was going. Because I couldn’t ask him to stay, not when I knew how badly he wanted to prove he could still play. Because my son had found a new version of family, and I was about to watch him lose it again.
And most of all, because I loved Beckett, and I had no idea how to say it without making it harder for both of us.
I wiped the corner of my eye before the tears could fall and crossed the room, sinking onto the barstool next to Ty. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped one arm around my shoulders and let me lean my head against him, solid and steady like always.
Between the second and third periods, the game cut to commercial, and the room broke into chaotic conversation. Shannon shouted something about snack refills and made a dramatic exit with the veggie tray. Ty handed me a fresh soda without asking. And then Beckett’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and stiffened, mouth tightening.
