Page 58 of Moms of Mayhem
But somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten that my brother had had a crush on Coach Mikaelson’s daughter since elementary school. Once upon a time they’d been best friends, but now… I wasn’t so sure.
“He’s still doing this?” Ty said at my side, his voice holding a hint of amusement.
“Apparently.” I shook my head, then looked back across the rink for Emmy. The Mayhem had left the ice, high off their first win of the season, and with the new Zamboni here, the rink was clearing out fast.
Emmy was gone, but since she had Rowdy and Ty’s neighbor kid with her, she couldn’t have gone far.
I glanced at Ty out of the corner of my eye. “Where are you meeting up with Emmy?”
He sighed, then shook his head. “This is a thing, isn’t it?”
I grinned, then patted him on the back. “Nah. We’re just friends.”
“Sure.” Ty ducked out from under my touch, then walked toward the locker room. “And I’m running for Miss Congeniality.”
My hip had felt a little better after only a few days working with Emmy, but I still wasn’t willing to push it to hurry after him.
“Emmy?” I called, and Ty turned around.
“She took Rowdy and Juniper home for me. I’m taking Jace so she wasn’t stuck here as long.”
“Oh.” My shoulders dropped, then I looked back over at my brother leading Tate out to the Zamboni. “Pizza at my place, then? Invite the team?”
Ty nodded, then spun back around to head into the locker room. With one last glance at the rink to make sure she really was gone, I followed him inside.
Boxes of half-eaten pizza were spread across the coffee table, and my mom’s living room smelled faintly of sweat and victory. Several players on our team sat scattered around thekitchen and living room, and it threw me back in time so hard it was almost jarring.
Jace had ditched his hoodie somewhere on the floor, hair still damp from the post-game shower. He was halfway through his second slice and talking with his mouth full.
“Did youseethat guy from Summit face wash me? Glove right to the face, just one big swipe.”
Miles snorted, reaching over to grab the last slice of Meat Lovers from where he perched on the brown leather couch next to Jace. Without the goalie pads, the kid was on the scrawny side, his glasses perched on his freckly skin.
Ty raised an eyebrow, then pointed at Jace. “And yet he still managed to land you on your ass in the second period.”
“Technicality.” Jace waved him off. “The ice was extra slippery tonight. But dude”—he reached over and slapped Miles on the arm—“I still can’t believe your glove hand, Pickles. That last save at the end of the second period was sick.”
“Thanks, bro,” Miles said, adjusting his new glasses. “Helps that I could see.”
Mason let out a loud burp, then crushed the orange soda can in his hand before launching it through the air and into the trash. “Great game, boys. Almost looked like you knew what you were doing out there.”
“And girls,” Molly added from where she lay stretched out on the floor, her long brown braid laying out to the side. “Or, girl, I guess. Just me.”
“Can’t forget the Mollinator.” Silas Delgado tossed a football into the air and caught it repeatedly. “Money Moreau. The Mayhem’s own Molotov cocktail.”
“So, what should we call this goon, then?” Mason said, pointing at Delgado.
Without hesitation, Ty and I both answered, “Smash.”
“Hell yeah, fuck yeah.” Delgado pumped his fist in the air, delighted by the nickname.
“Fitting since the only way you’re stopping on skates is by using someone as a cushion between you and the boards,” Molly said, and the kids all howled with laughter.
Jace swallowed, then stared at my brother practically heart-eyed. The whole team was having a little bit of a meltdown being in the room with three former and current NHL players, and I couldn’t blame them—Ty, Mason, and I would have had the same reaction when we were in their shoes.
“You never did say how you got me on the active roster for tonight.” Jace looked from Beckett to me, then back to Mason.
“Don’t ask me.” I held my hands up, looking over at Ty. “That was your uncle over there.”
