Page 21 of Moms of Mayhem
“Talk soon,” Gavin said. “Quit ignoring my calls.”
“Never.” I hung up, and the radio switched back to the early 2000’s rockblaring over the speakers.
The mountains flew by in a blur, each little town in the Vail Valley looking the same. Luckily, this area was home to some of the best doctors in the country. It was one of the main reasons I hadn’t already insisted she move down to Denver or to Dallas with Mason. Also, no one told Lori Conway what to do.
My tires crunched as I pulled into the valet circle at the front entrance to the hospital. A kid hopped up from just inside the sliding doors and ran around the front hood, there by the time I opened the door.
“Morning, sir,” he said, holding his hands out for my keys. “Are you here for an appointment or to visit?”
“Just visiting.” I dropped the keys in his palm, then grabbed the crutches from the passenger seat and slid them under my arms. Another week of babying my hip, and hopefully I’d be rid of these for good.
The kid handed me a ticket, and I walked inside. Soft piano music filtered through the lobby, painting a serene picture for a building that housed the sick and dying. Sure,maybe miracles happened here too, but all I could think about was my mom somewhere in the maze of these halls, all alone.
“Shit,” I mumbled, guilt rising in me that I hadn’t tried harder to get here over the weekend. I handed my ID over to the receptionist, and watched as she read my name, then did a double take.
“You’re Beckett Conway. From the Denver Yetis.”
I nodded, offering her a brief smile, even though I wasn’t in the mood. “Here to see Lori Conway.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and she turned back to the screen. A paper badge printed out with my ID picture, a time stamp, and her room number.
“Third floor. Elevators are to your right, and down the hall.” She handed it to me, her hands slightly shaking. “We’re huge fans of yours in my house. Your comeback this year is all we can talk about, especially with this six-game losing streak right now. No way can we make it to the Cup with you out for the season. Will you be back?”
I grunted, then took the badge from her. “Trying my best.”
My crutches echoed on the tile floors as I made my way down the sterile hallway and to the elevator, then up to the third floor. With a quick glance at the sign, I found my way to her room and rapped on the door.
“Come in,” she said, her voice groggy, and I pushed the door open with my good hip, then spun to walk inside. I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant that I was getting good with my crutches, but it couldn’t be anything good.
Mom’s room was dark, light leaking in through the crack in the blinds on the sides of her windows but otherwise litonly by the many machines beeping and blinking around her. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Her head jerked in my direction, her mouth spreading into a wide smile. It had been far too long since I’d seen my mom, but she was just as stunning as always, her white-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, face creased with laugh lines from a life well-lived. “Well, hey stranger! What are you doing here?”
I shook my head, and she held her arms out for a hug. One arm was bound in a cast from her thumb to her elbow, and a bruise lined her cheekbone, but otherwise she looked okay. Frail, but okay.
“What the hell do you mean, what am I doing here? How about, why didn’t you call me?”
“Language, son.” She swatted at my back with her good hand as I leaned in for the hug. “I know you have manners.”
I chuckled, careful of the wires and IV tubing as I hugged her gently. “You know, I had this exact conversation this morning with Emmy’s son.”
She let out a laugh that quickly turned into a wince. “Oof. Don’t make me laugh. My ribs hate me right now.”
“Sorry,” I said, settling onto the chair beside her bed.
“What were you doing with Jace?” she asked. “He out at the pond again?”
I hummed. “I take it he does that a lot.”
She waved a dismissive hand, a tremor in her fingers barely there—but there all the same. She noticed the flicker of my gaze and tucked her hand beneath the blanket. “That boy’s been through it. If sneaking onto my pond gives him a bit of peace, I’m not about to chase him off. Don’t you go doing it either.”
“Uh-huh. And what about the part where he’s skippingschool?” I lifted a brow, knowing my retired teacher mother would have something to say about that.
She rolled her eyes. “School first, always. You better have told him that. Though,” she added, eyes twinkling, “I doubt he listened. That boy thinks the sun rises and sets on you.”
“Really? Because he went toe-to-toe in a verbal sparring match this morning. Weird way to talk to your idol.”
Mom shook with laughter, wincing once more as she leaned back into the pillows. I moved to help adjust them, but she lifted a shaky hand and shot me a look that said,don’t hover,clear as day.
