Page 35 of Moms of Mayhem
“Goodnight, Emmy.”
The screen went dark.
I stood there, staring at the phone in stunned silence, my entire body thrumming.
By the time I crawled into bed and turned out the lights, all I could think about were his parting words. I tossed and turned, trying to force them out of my head—but the second my hand slid beneath the covers, his smirk came rushing back.
I refused to picture those blue eyes, that lazy grin, that infuriating, gorgeous man.
Two sharp knocks at my door had my hand jerking away like I’d been burned.
“Goodnight, Mom.”
“Night, buddy!” I called back, way too loud.
I turned on my side, heart still racing, Beckett’s voice replaying in my head like a broken record.
He was off-limits, even to my imagination. And I was going to remember that, startingnow.
12
The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains when I pulled into Emmy’s driveway. I sat in the idling truck, eyes fixed on the soft glow behind the upstairs curtains of that little blue house. Just hours ago, I’d seen more of Emmy Hudson than I ever expected to.
The smart thing would’ve been to apologize and back off. She’d laid down boundaries. Hell, she’d made alist. But every time I saw her, every time I remembered her pulling that hoodie over bare skin, my brain turned to static and something possessive curled deep in my gut.
“Bye, Mom!” Jace called, bounding down the steps with his backpack slung over one shoulder, gloves dangling from the other. His Carhartt jacket and Mayhem hoodie combo made him look like a mini-Ty, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or panic.
Emmy stepped into the doorway behind him, cradling a mug of coffee. She leaned against the jamb, backlit by the warm house lights, somehow managing to look casual andknockout gorgeous all at once. Even from here, I could see her gaze shift to mine.
Not a word. Not a smile, but that same tension tugged at me anyway.
I popped the passenger door open for Jace to climb in. “Morning.”
He tossed his backpack into the backseat like he lived here. “Cool if I sync my phone?”
“Make yourself at home,” I muttered with a laugh, glancing back at the house one last time before reversing out of the drive.
The air in the truck felt heavier than it should have. Maybe it was the weight of last night. Maybe it was knowing I’d already crossed a line I wasn’t supposed to touch.
“Ready to skate?” I asked as we turned toward the road back to the ranch.
Jace stayed quiet, scrolling through his phone, his mouth puckered the same way Emmy did when she was concentrating. Finally, he set it in the cupholder and hit play.
The opening chords ofSound of Madnessby Shinedown filled the cab, and Jace started air-drumming like he was on tour.
“You know Shinedown?” he asked.
“Do I—” I gave him a look. “Yes. I’m injured, not ancient.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re pretty old. That’s my dad’s favorite thing to point out on ESPN.”
“You don’t pull punches, huh?”
He shrugged again, then smirked. “Why? You getting sensitive in your later years?”
A laugh broke from me before I could stop it. “Betweenyou and your mom, I’m not going to have an ego left by the time I get back to Denver.”
At the mention of her, Jace’s expression shifted. His arms folded, and his eyes dropped to the window.
