Page 55 of Moms of Mayhem
Instead, I grabbed my coat and slipped my arms in the sleeves, then went down the street to the grocery and ordered two sandwiches from the deli counter. Paper bag in hand, I crossed River Street and went inside Hudson Hardware.
No matter how I’d changed in the last 15 years, my dad’s hardware store stayed the same. It smelled like sawdust, garden soil, and the faintest whiff of popcorn—comforting in a way only a small-town hardware store could be. The little bell above the door chimed when Iwalked in, and the worn wood plank floor creaked underfoot.
My brother stood behind the counter with his back to me, rearranging a cluttered corkboard plastered with flyers for firewood deliveries, community events, and a Free Kittens sign that had been up since Halloween. “Welcome in. Let me know if I can help you find anything.”
“It’s me,” I said, and my brother looked over his shoulder. I held up the bag of food, then shook it. “Hungry?”
“Yeah, let me finish this, and then I’ll meet you in the office.”
He turned back to the board, pulling off the outdated flyers, and I walked through the narrow aisles crammed with shelves stacked high with everything from screws and paint cans to snow shovels and gardening gloves.
My hand ran across the shelves, not a single fleck of dust in sight, just how my dad always kept it. Everything had its place, even if that place didn’t make much sense to anyone but him.
It wasn’t fancy, and it wasn’t trying to be. Hudson Hardware was dependable—just like the town that kept it running and my brother that had taken over when my dad suddenly retired after a heart attack had taken him by surprise. From the looks of it, Ty hadn’t changed a single thing in the year and a half he’d been running the store.
The rustic space was so different than my Pilates studio across the street, I couldn’t help but think about everything my brother had given up to pick up my dad’s mantle here in town.
Had anyone even asked him if this was what he wanted, or had my parents just assumed he’d take over since Dad’s heart attack had coincided with Ty’s NHL retirement?
I sat in the wooden swivel chair behind the desk and laid out our food, twisting back and forth while I stewed over that depressing thought. How much would my brother give up for the people he loved? I wasn’t sure there was a limit.
A few minutes later, Ty walked in and took the chair across from me, grabbing his chicken bacon ranch sandwich and barbecue chips without asking which one was his. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, because for the first time in a year, I was. “You?”
Ty nodded in return, then bit into his sandwich. Ranch caught in the edge of his mustache, and I threw a napkin at him. “Caught in your mustache. Or what was it the kids called it? Lip lettuce?”
My brother chuckled, then wiped at his face. “Jace good?”
“Are we this bad at talking that we just ask each other if everyone is good until we die? Next thing you know, you’ll be asking when the last time I changed my oil.”
He tugged on his hat, readjusting it over his hair he’d let grow out lately. “Since it’s my car, I already know when the last oil change was. Now, the weather? We could definitely talk about the weather. Real barn burner of a topic.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Got strong feelings about clouds today?”
He took another bite, chewed, then shrugged. “They exist.”
God help me, this was his version of emotional vulnerability.
“Game tomorrow,” Ty said.
I tipped my forehead down to the wooden desk, staring at the spot where I’d spilled an entire can of neon pink paintwhen I was 10. My dad had sanded the wood floors and restained it, but you could still see little flecks of color. I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t done that on purpose.
“Is my son going to get thrown out again?”
Ty crumpled his empty chip bag into a ball and tossed it at my head. “Not if I can help it. Beckett’s good with him.”
The longest sigh of my life slipped free, and I picked my head up, resting my chin on the desk so I could see Ty. “I know. I hate it.”
Ty’s mustache twitched, then he shook his head. “Shit. Not you too.”
I sat up straighter, fixing my posture. “What does that mean?Not me too?”
He groaned but didn’t elaborate. “Is Jace still flying out to spend New Years with Ryan?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. After Ryan didn’t show up for the home opener, it’s been more than a little tense though.” Dread filled me at the thought of my son flying across the country for a week, but our custody agreement specified a rotating holiday schedule, and this was how it fell. “He leaves the day after Christmas, and I’m alone for a whole week.”
Ty scrubbed a hand across his face, then took his hat off completely, setting it on his knee. His hair was long, curling at the nape of his neck from wearing a hat over it so much, but it had the same slightly wavy texture as my own. We were only 16 months apart in age, and people often confused us for twins growing up.
