Page 20 of Moms of Mayhem
What the hell had just happened?
She’d always been Ty’s little sister—mouthy, fearless, off-limits. But now? Now she was all woman, all fire, and that five-minute conversation had more heat in it than any of my previous relationships. My heart was racing like I’d just taken a hit on open ice, and my brain… yeah, it wasuseless.
Where the hell hadthatcome from?
Had she always been this sharp? This electric? Had I just been too wrapped up in hockey and my own ego to notice?
Suddenly, every memory I had of Emmy as a teenager was being overwritten by the woman who’d just knocked thewind out of me with nothing more than a glare, a smirk, and a few cutting words.
I swore under my breath and finally reached for the door, my hand still tingling from where she’d touched me—whereI’dtouched her. That look in her eyes when I brushed her jaw, like she'd felt it too, wasn’t my imagination.
And, God help me, I wanted to feel it again. Whatever this was, it was dangerous. No matter how gorgeous Emmy had grown up to be—how much heat pulsed between us just standing on a sidewalk—she was Ty’s sister. I couldn’t go there. Not when I’d be out of this little town and back with my team as soon as I got Mom settled into something resembling a routine.
Once she was out of sight, I grabbed the handlebar above the door and hoisted myself back into the truck. With a hand braced on the passenger seat, I glanced over my shoulder and reversed out onto River Street, needing to put a little distance between me and the wildfire that woman had just lit in my chest.
A few taps on the screen sent a message to Ty:
Jace made it to school. Talk later.
Originally, I’d planned to swing by the hardware store and tell him that in person but doing it now with a semi over his sister felt like a bad call.
I cruised through town, past the brightly painted buildings and crooked wooden storefronts that had stood here longer than anyone still alive. Linwood always felt frozen in time, like a snapshot of an age long ago. And yet, it didn’t feel stale. Somehow, even with the changes, it still felt likehome.
I turned down Second Street, slowing at the familiarcurve past the elementary school and letting my hand rest on the gearshift, like muscle memory alone could steer me through a town I hadn’t lived in for 20 years.
I didn’t belong here anymore. Not really.
But damn, for the first time in a long time, I missed it.
My phone rang as I made it out of town and onto the highway, my manager’s name lighting up the screen. I hit the button to deny the call like I had been all weekend but hit a pothole and accidentally accepted it instead.
“He lives!” Gavin York’s voice came over the speakers in my car. “About time you answered your damn phone.”
“Tried to hang up on you but wasn’t quick enough.”
“Yes, well, maybe your reflexes would be better if you actually showed up to your PT appointments.”
I could practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose, so I let him sit in silence for a moment.
“You there?” Gavin said, and I chuckled. “Dammit, Conway. You make my life difficult.”
“Okay, I’ll take that plane you just bought then.”
Gavin sighed. “What’s going on, man? Why did you skip town without telling anyone? And where are you?”
“Linwood.”
“Oh, shit. Really? Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, unsure if that was actually true. “Mom had an accident, and since I’m laid up, felt it was time for a visit.”
“Sure, sure.” The sound of keyboard clicking filtered through the phone, and I knew Gavin well enough to know he was already handling the mess I’d made for myself. “So how long are you staying? Or are you headed back now?”
“Don’t know yet.” I checked the rearview mirror, the white-tipped mountains filling my vision, andthe thick clouds above them heavy with more snow. “Headed to see her now, and then we’ll go from there.”
The keyboard clicking stopped, then started again. “Okay, so a few days. Let me get your doctors and trainers on the phone, and we’ll get a plan in place. No time for setbacks, and you’ll be back in Denver by, what, Wednesday? Two days? Does that work?”
“Sure.” I wasn’t even kind of sure, afraid of what I’d find when I saw Mom, but that wasn’t a conversation I was ready to have. “I gotta go.”
