Page 51 of Moms of Mayhem
“You made it,” I stated the obvious, and Beckett smirked. My knees damn near buckled at the sight, taken aback by just how stunning this man was. Remembering what I was supposed to do, I shoved a tablet into Beckett’s chest with more force than I intended. His smile faded as he looked down at the screen. “Questionnaire. Pain points, progress, all the things the team wants me to be tracking.”
“Got it.” Beckett took it from my hands. His attention flicked up to me, then around the studio. “Nice place.”
“Thanks!” My voice was doing that whole wrong-octave thing again, and I glanced over my shoulder at Shannon before introducing her.
Beckett held out a hand to shake, and Shannon just stared at it, squinty-eyed. “Oh, I remember you.”
He looked at me questioningly, then finally dropped his hand. I let out a weird laugh, trying to dissolve the tension, and both Shannon and Beckett looked at me. “Sorry.” I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder into the studio. “I’ll just bein here. Come on back when you’re done with that form and bring the tablet with you. Shannon, get music going for me please?”
Shannon watched me scurry away, her gaze about as pointed as they came, and I hurried into the dim-lit room, needing a minute to breathe before I had no way to escape everything that was Beckett Conway.
16
Emmy practically jogged out of the entryway of her studio and behind the partition wall out of sight, and I was left standing there with the tablet and a scowling Shannon.
I sat on the bench just inside the front door, looking down at the form full of questions about my pain levels, where things hurt, and other general health questions. Little sounds of disapproval came from behind the desk until I finally looked up at the grumpy receptionist.
“Do we know each other?” My brows raised in question. Linwood was a small town, so the chances I knew her were pretty high, but she also looked a lot younger than me, so my mind was blank.
She scoffed, then shook her head. “Figures.”
I frowned, thinking harder about everyone I’d known my whole life, trying to decipher what that even meant. “I apologize, it’s been a long time since I spent any time in Linwood, and I’ve taken more than a few shots to the head since then.”
It was meant to be a self-deprecating joke, but Shannon just squinted harder. “Shannon Wilder.”
“Wilder.” I pursed my lips, thinking of the only Wilder family I’d known in Linwood, then my eyes expanded in shock. “Oh, shit. Ray Wilder’s Shannon. The Wilder twins’ little sister?”
Shannon crossed her arms over her chest, and suddenly I could see it. The dyed black hair was different from the toe-head blonde little girl I remembered from my childhood. She was all sharp angles and had the kind of pale skin that looked like it actively rejected sunlight.
Aside from the hair, she was the spitting image of her father, Ray. The man who’d done time for vehicular manslaughter after driving drunk withmydad in the passenger seat after they’d gone on a bender together.
As much as that day had changed my life forever, it had hers, too. Cash and Colton had been promising defensemen on the Mayhem before our world came crashing down around us in a flash of red and blue lights, but they had gone the way of our fathers in their absence.
“It’s been a long, long time,” I said, not sure how to come back from this awkwardness. The last time I’d seen her had been at my dad’s funeral, 21 years ago. She wasn’t her father, just like I wasn’t mine, but hell. “You good?”
Shannon held her hands out to the side, indicating the space around her. Her grey eyes were clear, no sign of using like her brothers and dad, which I was glad to see. “Grand.”
“How’s your dad?” I asked, even though that felt weird to say aloud.
She raised her brows, then let out a little laugh. “Alive, so I guess better than yours. If you’re asking if he’s still in jail, then no. He’s back home, and the same as ever.”
I sighed, then tapped the tablet, finishing my questionnaire. “I’m sorry to hearthat.”
She hummed, and I pushed my hands into the seat to help myself stand. I winced only slightly as I pointed at the studio, ready to get the hell away from this uncomfortable trip down memory lane. “Good to see you again.”
Shannon shook her head, then glanced down at her phone, fiddling with something on the screen.
After 21 years of playing semi- or professional hockey, I’d been in a lot of gyms all around the country. Heck, I’d even seen a Pilates reformer before, but this was my first time in a true studio.
Twelve reformers were arranged in two neat rows with a wide aisle between them. Each one had a mat next to it on the floor with a basket of accoutrements that all looked very girly. Not a single weight bench was in sight, no machines; nothing except for the strange reformers that looked a lot like a medieval stretching table.
“Back here.” Emmy peeked her head out from a private room in the back. I followed her with careful steps, minding not to bump my hip on any of the equipment.
She stood in a brighter room with overhead lights, and a simple table, just like Frankie’s, sat in the middle. She patted it, and I sat down and laid back, knowing the drill.
Her back was to me, fiddling with something on a small table, and I took the opportunity to study her. Her purple top hugged her in a way that made it impossible not to look—fitted across her toned shoulders and down the curve of her waist, stopping just above the waistband of her matching leggings. Her white socks peeked above her slides, grounding her in this everyday moment that still somehow knocked the breath out of me. She didn’t know I was watching—didn’t see how easily she pulled all my focus just by existing in a quiet room.
“Morning, kids.” Frankie’s voice snapped me to attention, and I blinked, looking for the source.
