Page 56 of Moms of Mayhem
He twisted his neck to the side, then grabbed at it, as if something was bothering him. “Why don’t we go out for New Years then?”
My brows shot up. “What did you say?”
“We should go out, maybe just to The Lantern here in town. Get a drink or two, since we’ve never done that.”
I chuckled, realizing what he’d said was true. “How are we now in our mid-thirties and have never gone out for a drink together? You are my favorite brother, after all.”
“You know I love a stacked competition,” he said, then put his hat back on. “Let’s do it.”
I finished the rest of my sandwich, then folded the wrapper and put it in the trashcan under the desk. “I’ll think about it.”
Ty nodded and stood up. “Take a bag of candy from the counter if you want one.”
I did a little fist pump, glad that some things never changed. Without hesitation, I grabbed a bag of sour peach dots, then waved them over my head as I went back outside.
The plastic crinkled as I ripped the bag open and plucked a little candy out, then shoved it into my mouth. The flavor exploded like a ray of sunshine, and I grinned up at the sunny sky.
Unlike my lifelong obsession with everything peach, this infatuation with Beckett would fade. He’d be gone in eight weeks, and my life would go back to normal here.
I could do this.
“I can’t do this,” I said the next night, hands over my eyes. It was Friday, and the Mayhem had another home game. Unlike the last one, the Mayhem were tied 2-2 at the end of the second period. With Ty and Beckett both on the bench across the way, I was left sitting alone.
Well, notalone.I sat with Rowdy, Ty’s dog that wenteverywhere with him, and Juniper, his neighbor’s daughter. When he’d introduced us before the game and asked if she could sit with me, I stared at him with a dozen questions, but Ty asked for nothingever,and this was the second thing he’d asked of me in as many days.
“Statistically speaking, the likelihood of us winning this game is almost zero,” Juniper said.
I looked down at the 8-year-old who had talked almost the entire game using words that I only understood half the time. She wore a Mayhem hoodie that looked like it might be Ty’s it was so big on her, black sparkly leggings, and snow boots I knew Ty sold at the store. Her unbelievably thick dark blonde hair was pulled into a haphazard ponytail, cheeks pink from the cold rink, and no parent in sight.
“The Summit went to the State Championship last year. Sure, their captain went on to play Juniors and is no longer with them, but the Summit have a long line of recent successes that suggests their coaching style both attracts talent and develops it. On paper, we are much worse.”
“Well, that’s good to know, I guess.”
She looked up at me, pale blue eyes magnified behind her thick glasses. “Would you like to know their record from the last five years?”
“What about the statistical rates now that Miles has new glasses and is playing like he’s on fire?”
A beat of silence went by before she finally said, “I don’t know that yet. But I could start tracking the shots on goal.”
As if he could hear us, Miles dropped and blocked a shot headed straight between his legs, slamming his glove down over top of it. The stands exploded in excitement, and I reached a hand around Juniper’s shoulders, squeezing her tight to my side. “Look at him!”
The little girl stiffened under my touch, so I quickly let her go. “Sorry.”
She shook her head, staring at Ty across the ice. “I like hugs.”
“Me too.” I nudged her shoulder with my hip, then leaned down. “You let me know anytime you want one, and I’ve got one ready for you.”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off my brother. I looked back and forth between them too, trying to figure out the relationship here. Prior to his retirement, Ty had spent little to no time in Linwood, so there was no way he had a secret daughter, but something about their unusual relationship screamed father-daughter.
“You spend a lot of time with Ty?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.
Juniper grinned, her teeth a little too big for her face and more than a few missing. “Yeah. We live next door. My mom has headaches, and I like hanging out at his farm when she’s sick. The chickens are cute, as long as you don’t try to steal their eggs. Then they peck you.”
“Especially Nugget.”
Juniper nodded vigorously, her glasses nearly slipping off her face. “Nugget isn’t very nice. But Cluck Norris is the meanest.”
A laugh ripped out of me at my brother’s stupid names for his chickens. “He’s so mean, isn’t he? Almost as mean as Ty.”
