Page 9 of Moms of Mayhem
“I haven’t been by in a week, but everything is pretty much the same since before the accident. The heater was working last I checked, but if it’s not, check the furnace in the basement. The flame might have gone out again. Call me if you need help getting it going.”
He dropped the key into my hand, and I glanced down at it. This was the key tomyhouse, the childhood home where my mom had raised my brother and I, and yet it was Ty who took my mom to the hospital after her fall, who watched out over the property, who fixed all the messes I left behind.
“I’m sorry.” The words slipped out before I thought too hard about it. I looked up at my best friend, my fingers closing around the cold metal. “For a lot of things.”
Ty nodded, then opened the door for Rowdy to jump inside the pickup cab. “Do better. That’s all the apology I need.”
I watched him back out of the lot, headlights shining in the dark sky, then made my way to my own truck. It rumbled to life when I hit the ignition, then slowly backed out onto the road.
My windshield wipers flicked back and forth, clearing the window as I drove down the dark roads away from town. My mom still owned a farmhouse on her grandparent’s property, sprawling acres of land butting up to the mountains. Even after so many years away, I knew these roads like the back of my hand.
A text message came through, lighting up mytouchscreen display, and I pushed the button on my steering wheel to read it aloud.
Mason Conway
Did you make it? Is she okay?
Showering and post-game interviews, then I’ll call you
I sighed, not ready to call my brother yet anyway. With both of us wrapped up in our NHL careers, neither of us had been around to see just how much things had changed.
Mom had always been tough. Quiet, self-sufficient, and proud to a fault. She never asked for help, never wanted to be a burden. And maybe that’s why I’d convinced myself there’d be time later—time after I retired, time to come home and reconnect, to finally be the son she deserved after all those years she held it together on her own.
But that phone call from the ER shattered that illusion in seconds.
“Shit.” I slapped my hands against the steering wheel, jaw clenched as I replayed every word. She’d slipped, hit her head, and broken her arm. The concussion was mild, but the doctor had sounded hesitant. Like there was more going on than just a bad fall.
They were worried about her mobility, her balance. Said she’d likely been struggling longer than any of us knew.
And I’d been so wrapped up in my own life—my injury, my career, my ego—that I hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t even thought to check.
After a flurry of calls between Mason and me, we knew one thing for sure—she couldn’t go back to that house alone. I’d looked into assisted living, but she’d shut it down before I could finish thesentence.
So here I was. On injured reserve, benched indefinitely, and suddenly faced with a version of my mom I wasn’t ready for. The strong, unshakable woman who raised us was slipping through our fingers—and I hadn’t even seen it coming.
The old cattle guards rattled under my tires, useless now that the ranch had been out of business since my grandfather died. I leaned forward over the steering wheel, looking up at the farmhouse at the top of the hill. The driveway would be plowed in the morning by the crew we’d hired to maintain her property, but tonight it was snow-packed. Luckily, my 4x4 made the slippery drive, and I parked in the detached garage next to the house.
Everywhere I looked, I could see Ty’s efforts—a new safety rail along the front porch steps, a ramp from the driveway to the porch, and string lights hanging along the path to the frozen pond. I’d bet good money Ty had even prepped it for skating.
In fact, I hoped he had. I hoped he used it, maybe with that nephew of his. It was the least I could offer for everything he did for me and my family.
The door squeaked when I pushed it open and went inside, my crutches creaking on the old wood floorboards. Even in the dark, everything felt the same. I stopped to work my way out of my coat and hang it on the hooks behind the door, then sat on the bench like I had a thousand times before and took off my shoes. Old habits died hard, and even without my mom’s scolding, I tucked them under the bench and out of the way.
After a day of driving and the hockey game, the thought of climbing the steps to my bedroom was entirely too much, so I left my crutches by the front door and lifted my foot, hopping on one leg down the hall and into the living room.
Heavy cream curtains hung beside the wide windows, a little sun-stained at the edges, framing a view of the mountains and the frozen pond where we’d learned to skate. Moonlight spilled in across the hardwood floors, catching on dust motes and the edge of the old wooden coffee table that still bore a ring from Dad’s forever-missing coaster.
A brown leather couch sat along the far wall, creased and softened by years of use; the cushions slightly sunken on the right side where Mom always sat. A small table beside it held her daily lineup: pill bottles in neat rows, a half-drunk glass of water, a box of tissues, and a Sudoku book with a cracked spine she hadn’t touched in days.
The heat clicked on with a familiar groan, and the whole room felt like it exhaled. I let myself breathe deep, inhaling the woodsy scent this house always had. There was a layer of must mixed in now, but the house was better than I was expecting after hearing her health had declined. I probably owed Ty for that, too.
I dropped my keys and phone on the coffee table, then sat down on the sofa. My phone lit up with incoming texts, and I picked it up to click through them. One from Coach, asking where I was, another from our head trainer, reaming me for missing a doctor’s appointment today. And then one I wasn’t expecting.
Mikko
It gets better, veli. You won't feel like this forever.
I stared at the screen, throat tight. Mikko Laaksonen, the Yeti’s star defender and one of my best friends, wasn’t the type to drop serious stuff unless it mattered. He’d gone through his own hell, missed nearly a full season after anACL tear, and clawed his way back to the top. I wasn’t alone in wondering if he’d ever look like himself again, and thank God he did.
