Page 132 of Moms of Mayhem
Beckett let out a low laugh, and I saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was barely holding back pride.
Stevie reached me just in time, slipping a calming hand on my arm while Tate looked on with her phone suspiciously angled like she was filming the whole thing in case we needed it in a future custody battle. Shannon stood a row in front of me, directly between me and Ryan like my own personal guard dog.
“Let’s go,” Ty called from the end of the hallway, giving his best friend a little nod of approval. “Locker room, kids.”
Jace gave me a look—a mix of apology, resolve, and something stubborn and fierce—and jogged down the tunnel with Beckett right behind him.
And just like that, the storm moved on.
But the aftershocks? Oh, I felt those in every part of me.
Shannon eyed me like she was assessing damage. “Do I need to walk you to the bathroom so you can scream intoyour hands for 30 seconds? Or is this more of a hot pretzel moment?”
I let out a shaky breath, blinking fast. “Honestly? I might need both.”
Ryan turned toward me, mouth already opening, jaw flexing like he was gearing up for a monologue I didn’t ask for.
But Shannon cut him off without even glancing in his direction. “Read the room, Vineyard Vines. Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘you can have full custody and a big, fat check’, keep it to yourself.”
Ryan’s jaw snapped shut like a trap, color still high on his cheeks as he glared at us, but, for once, said nothing.
Stevie tugged on my arm, pulling me back toward where Luke sat with the kids. “Let’s go before she gets banned from this arena for homicide.”
I leaned my head on her shoulder, grateful I’d honked at her in that stupid parking lot and found my people.
39
The Denver Yeti locker room felt different today, and not just because it was full of kids rather than grown men. It was quieter, almost reverent.
The Mayhem shuffled inside like they were stepping into church, wide-eyed and buzzing with the kind of nervous energy that only came with state championships and dreams that suddenly felt real. Their voices bounced off the walls, soft and awed. A few of them trailed fingers along the edges of lockers, like maybe just being in this space would turn them into the players they’d always wanted to be.
And there, dead center of it all, was Jace.
Sitting in my stall.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, staring at theConwaynameplate emblazoned over his head in that same spot I’d claimed for years. His elbows rested on his knees, chin tucked like he was trying to stay cool, but I saw him scanning the room. He leaned back just a little, like the weight of the moment was pressing into his spine, trying not to freak out.
I was barely holding it together, because seeing Jacesitting there wearing my number and sitting under my name was him claiming me right back.
I cleared my throat, the sound sharp in the stillness. Every head turned my way.
“I’ve been in a lot of locker rooms,” I said, voice steady even though my chest was tight. “Stanley Cup qualifiers. Olympic trials?—”
“Okay, showboat.” Delgado cut in, loud enough for the whole room to hear.
A ripple of laughter broke through the nerves. I grinned and rolled my eyes.
“Just trying to establish my street cred, kid.”
“Pretty sure coaching a bunch of hormonal teens did that,” Molly said. “Takes some real bravery to put up with these losers.”
More laughter followed, and I raised my hands, encouraging them to settle. “Some of the biggest games of my life started right here, in this room.”
I paused, letting my eyes sweep the space—these kids, this team,myteam now.
“But standing here today, with you guys? This is the proudest I’ve ever been to wear a team’s colors. When I came back to Linwood, I thought my career was over. I didn’t know what came next, and I was lost. But watching you push through every practice, every loss, every early morning skate—you reminded me why I fell in love with this game in the first place.”
“You crying, Coach?” Jace asked, then threw a towel at me. “Here’s a towel for your feelings.”
