Page 66 of Moms of Mayhem
I opened my mouth, then shut it again, because hope was something I didn’t have room for. That thought cracked something open in my chest that I wasn’t ready to face.
“I’m not putting my life on hold for a man again,” I said, thinking back to the years I’d spent on the sidelines of my marriage to Ryan. “I can’t do that to Jace or myself.”
Steve turned her face toward me. “Has he asked you to?”
“You know”—I squinted at her through slitted eyes and a reluctant smile—“I was so excited to be the friend you needed. When did you decide to be the friendIneeded?”
Stevie shrugged, then grinned back. “When you apologized for honking at me in the parking lot days after it happened, like it had been haunting you. I recognize a girl’s girl when I see one.”
I looped my arm through hers, once again doing anything but Pilates in our hour together. “I think I like this Moms of Mayhem thing.”
“Me too.” Stevie leaned her head on mine, and we laid there for a moment, listening to the soft piano music filtering through the overhead speakers. I hadn’t listened to it until now, but once I was paying attention, a chuckle left me.
“Is this a piano rendition ofPony?”
The sound that came out of Stevie was more wheeze than laugh, and we both laid there shaking with laughter realizing every single song Shannon had on her playlist was some PG version of horny as hell songs.Ponygave way toHands to Myself,thenSex on Fire, thenHips Don’t Lie.With each newsong we laughed harder, turning this into one heck of an ab workout after all.
When the hour was up, Shannon strolled over, staring down at us while holding Harper on her hip. Her grey eyes twinkled with mirth, even though the rest of her expression looked bored as always.
“Diabolical.” Stevie pointed at Shannon, then stood up to take her daughter back. “That was good.”
Shannon smoothed Harper’s hair down but looked at me. “If you don’t go to The Lantern on New Year’s and wear something slutty to tease the Hockey God, I’m quitting.”
Stevie laughed again, holding a stitch in her side, then nodded in agreement.
“So, what? You’ll go back to taking orders at Slice and Spice?” I got up to stand next to them. “I thought they were dead to you after they tried to coin the term Zaco—pizza and tacos.”
She breathed a long, exasperated sigh through her nose, lightly shaking her head. “Don’t even get me started on how stupid that is. But that tells you how serious I am.”
“I don’t know, it’s kinda catchy,” Stevie said, and Shannon shot her a flat look that sent me into a fit of giggles. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. But I agree with Shannon. Be open to something good happening, even if it’s just for a little while.”
Harper leaned over from Stevie’s arms and patted my cheek, then said, “Balls!”
Everyone froze.
Stevie shriek-laughed, pinning Harper to her chest.
Shannon pressed her hands into her eyes, but her chest shook with laughter.
I covered my face with both hands. “I’m never going to survive New Year’s.”
20
One of the best parts about moving back to Linwood was a white Christmas was almost guaranteed. I woke up that morning to snow on the ground and sunlight bouncing off the mountains like someone had wrapped the whole valley in gold foil.
Inside, it looked like a bomb had gone off, like any house with kids should on Christmas morning. Wrapping paper everywhere, stray pine needles in my coffee mug, and a huge grin on my son’s face.
Jace sat cross-legged in front of the tree in a new hoodie, holding up one of my gifts. I’d gone a little overboard with the wrapping—velvet ribbon, tiny pinecones, and a hockey skate ornament tied on top that was quickly ripped off and flung across the room.
“This one looks like a Martha Stewart fever dream,” he said, squinting at the tag.
I grinned from the couch, a steaming coffee cup in my hands. “Thank you. I stayed up all night hand-lettering that.Glued part of my hair to the bow in the process, but it’s festive. Adds texture.”
He snorted, but his smile was soft when he opened the box. Inside was a vintage Chicago Storm pennant and a framed picture of us at his very first NHL game, standing next to the glass with Ty on the rink. I held Jace on my hip, and he had his little hand pressed to the glass to give Ty a high five. Our backs were to the camera, Hudson written on our Storm jerseys with Ty standing between us.
It wasn’t lost on me that I had no version of this photo with Ryan, even though Jace’s dad had also been playing in the minor league then. Even before he’d given up on his dream of making it to the NHL and settled into sports broadcasting, hockey had come first, and Jace and I ranked somewhere much lower on his priorities list. Things like asking for family pictures before a game would have set him off, insisting it threw off his focus.
And then there was my brother. Even when we were states apart, Ty had always gone out of his way to be in Jace’s life. Summers spent right here in Linwood, flying us to Chicago for home games, even setting up a spare bedroom in his penthouse just for my little son.
