Page 29 of Moms of Mayhem
“That’s what bratty little sisters get.”
“I’m not your sister.”
She glared up at me, hair wild from my noogie, cheeks flushed, lips parted just enough to wreck my focus, and damn.
She wasn’t my sister.
She was a walking complication with killer curves, eyes that could cut glass, and a mouth I was dangerously close to remembering in far too much detail.
“Mm. But you are a brat, aren’t you?” I said, my voice lower, rougher.
Her nostrils flared. For a second, I swore she was goingto close the distance between us and say something that’d undo the last sliver of restraint I had left.
Instead, she spun on her heel, hips swaying, and stormed toward the concession stand.
I followed, jaw clenched, pulse pounding, and very aware I was losing the war between logic and every damn cell in my body screaming for more of her fire.
“Pretzels,” she told Tate when she approached the snack bar, holding up her fingers. “He’s buying.”
Tate’s brows rose as she grinned. “Back so soon, Conway?”
“Jace left his bike at my pond,” I said. “Figured I’d drop it off. Maybe catch practice. Kid’s good.”
Emmy’s stare was back on me, but I kept mine forward. I didn’t trust myself to meet it.
“Don’t know if there’s a practice,” Tate said. “Coach didn’t show. Again.”
Emmy tensed. “Seriously?”
Tate shrugged. “I’d help, but I’m stuck here. Concessions make more than anything else in this place.”
Well, that wasn’t a good sign.
“They can’t free skate?” I asked.
“Insurance won’t allow it without a certified adult on the bench.”
Emmy cursed under her breath and turned to stare at the ice. “We need a new coach. This can’t keep happening.”
Tate sighed. “No one wants to take on a losing team, history or not. And at the level these kids play, it’s a huge commitment for little to no cash.”
They exchanged one of those silent conversations women seem to have: raised brows, tiny shrugs, mutual sighs.
Emmy pulled at the strings on my hoodie, biting her lip. “Are you thinking about disbanding the team?”
“What?” I nearly reeled back. “You can’t shut down the Mayhem.”
Tate’s face fell. “I’m running out of options.”
I raised a hand, heart pounding harder than it should’ve been. “Okay, no. This rink? This team? It’s our past. Mine. Ty’s. Mason’s. Hell, Emmy’s. You don’t just erase that like it never mattered.”
My voice caught, chest tight. Everything I loved about growing up here—this rink, this team, the people who built me—was falling apart in real time, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
“And I can solve one problem right now,” I said, gripping the crutch under my arm like it could anchor me. “I got certified last summer for a kid’s camp with the Yeti. I’ll take the bench tonight. And while I’m rehabbing... I’ll help. I’ll run practices.”
“What?” they both said, eyes wide.
Yeah. That definitely wasn’t supposed to come out.
