Page 138 of Moms of Mayhem
Loud and messy.
Real and earned.
And finally,finallymine.
41
“Hell yeah, fuck yeah,” Delgado said, looking up into the packed stands around us.
Ty slapped him over the head and Delgado ducked out of his range. “Language.”
“If being at game six of the Stanley Cup championships doesn’t earn a swear or two, my name’s not Molly,” Molly said. “Becausehell yeah, fuck yeah.”
Delgado held a hand up for a fist bump, and I chuckled at my brother’s exasperated head shake.
The sound inside Mile High Arena was absolute chaos, so much louder than a few weeks ago when the Mayhem had played here.
Music pulsed. Lights strobed. Fans screamed like their lives depended on it. The Yeti were up 3-2 in the series, and the Cup was in the building. One more win tonight, and it was over.
I stood at the glass, clutching an emergency pretzel and doing my best not to pass out.
It had been a grueling two months of playoffs. Becketthad given body, mind, and soul to this run, and we’d been at every single home game. His own little cheering squad, loud and proud and aggressively decked out in Conway gear.
I thought I was used to the nerves by now, that after a decade of standing on the sidelines for Jace I’d learned to handle it. But watching Beckett warm up for what could be the biggest game of his life felt like I was back in the stands at Mayhem games, clutching the bleachers like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
Ty leaned over, voice raised above the roar. "You going to breathe anytime soon, or should I start Googling CPR instructions?"
"Not helping," I muttered.
Around us, the Mayhem pressed against the boards, eyes wide, practically vibrating with excitement. Delgado was narrating everything like a broadcaster. Miles had already dropped half his popcorn. Jace looked cool on the outside, but I could see the twitch in his jaw, the excited energy in his stance.
All our players were wearing new Mayhem jerseys withCoach Conwayprinted on the back, excited to show them off.
"Man, this is so cool." Jace grinned. "He’s going to lose his mind when he sees us."
I fidgeted with my new custom jacket, the leather fabric emblazoned with his name and number that said I was far more than just a fan.
Ty eyed me sideways. “Feeling exposed there, sis?”
“I look like a groupie.”
“You look like a WAG.”
Before I could argue, the team took the ice for warmups, and the volume inside the arena somehow doubled.
The Mayhem kids exploded in cheers as Beckett skatedout, laser-focused. He did a loop, practiced a shot, exchanged glove bumps with a teammate, and then he saw us.
I swear, I felt that subtle shift in his stride. The way his head lifted just a little. His eyes locked on ours, and then directly on me.
I froze. “Oh God.”
Jace leaned in with a wicked grin. “Brace for impact.”
Beckett coasted toward our section, slowing as he neared the glass. A few fans waved and someone banged the glass next to us, but he didn’t look away. As one, the kids turned, showing off their new jerseys, and I watched his eyes light up with glee.
“Did he see it?” Molly shouted, looking over her shoulder.
I grinned back at him, feeling every ounce of his joy. “Yeah. He saw it.”
