Page 93 of Moms of Mayhem
The analysts didn’t linger—maybe 30 seconds of dissecting his rehab schedule, another mention of his age—but it felt longer. They pivoted to trade rumors and the Olympics break, and the tension in the room slowly dissolved. But it was too late; the damage had been done.
I stared at the screen, my cheeks burning with a mixture of secondhand embarrassment and anger. Anger for Jace, who had to hear his father degrade Beckett once again. Anger for Beckett, who’d shown nothing but kindness and steadiness to me and Jace. And anger at myself, because no matterhow far I ran, Ryan still had this uncanny ability to ruin perfectly good things.
Beckett’s thumb brushed along the back of my neck once—barely there, but the gentlest reassurance, as if he sensedIwas upset and wanted to soothe the ache.
Tears pricked my eyes that this man who had just been cut down to the quick still saw me even in his weakest moments.
I didn’t look at him.Couldn’t. Not with everyone so close.
Jace shifted on the floor, his back a little straighter. I didn’t miss the flash of protectiveness in his eyes as he glanced at the TV, then at Beckett.
“He’s wrong,” Jace said, voice flat but certain. “You’re the best player on that team. He’s just jealous because it turns out he sucks and couldn’t make it out of the minors.”
Ty gave a low grunt of agreement. “Ryan’s a blowhard. Always has been.”
Rowdy gave a soft, affirming bark from under Ty’s feet, like he needed to voice his opinion too.
Beckett finally smiled, small but real. “Appreciate that,” he said to Jace. While his tone was calm, there was something tighter in it. Something buried. “But it’s a team sport. I don’t need to be the best. Just need to do my part.”
It was the kind of answer that made you respect him more, and also want to punch someone for making him feel like he had to say it at all.
Beside me, Ty shifted, then muttered, “What a dick.”
I exhaled through my nose, then took a long sip of the hot cocoa in my hands.What a dickdidn’t even cover it.
The game came back on, but the atmosphere had changed. The air was heavier now.
Beckett sat forward again, his arm returning to the couch cushion behind me, not touching this time but still close. His knee brushed mine once, but he didn’t pull away and I didn’t move.
For all the ways we couldn’t be obvious, for all the things we weren’t ready to name yet, I couldn’t deny whatever this was between us. It was more than just sex, more than just attraction. It was starting to feel like bone-deepneed,not even just a want. One I wasn’t sure I had the power to say no to.
And what a terrifying thought that was.
28
The rest of January settled into a rhythm I hadn’t expected, but one I started to look forward to.
Most mornings kicked off on the pond with Jace and Ty. The kid laced up before sunrise, the cold biting at our cheeks while his skates carved fresh lines across the ice. He talked a big game, chirped me every chance he got, but the kid had talent. Ty let him think he was keeping up. Maybe some mornings, he actually was.
After that, it was straight into PT to keep my hip on track, then Pilates at Emmy’s studio. I kept telling myself it was just part of my recovery plan, but truth was, I liked being there. The way she quietly checked on everyone, her voice low and even, the kind of calm I didn’t know I needed until it wrapped around me. How she made every single person in the studio feel like they held her whole attention, I didn’t understand, but I could see why she had such a loyal following at the studio.
It didn’t take me long to figure out Shannon controlled the playlists, and each one got a little more pointed. The firstclass after New Years, every single song had the wordkissin the title. Emmy blushed, I laughed, and the ladies snickered like they knew exactly what was happening. This was a small town, and I’d kissed her right in the middle of the dance floor, so chances were high theydidknow.
Afternoons were a carousel of doctor’s appointments—some for me, some for Mom. Since Emmy had mentioned red light and oxygen therapy, I’d bought everything I needed for both of those, trusting her completely. Turned out that was a great decision—both my doctors and Frankie were shocked by how quickly I was progressing.
Mom started occupational therapy, tackling each new challenge her Parkinson’s diagnosis gave her with more grit than I could wrap my head around. It was so good to hear her cracking jokes, still telling me to call Emmy, as if I didn’t already see her every day. Still asked about the Mayhem boys like she was our assistant coach.
Gavin still hadn’t heard anything from the Yeti about my contract renewal for next year, assuring me the best thing I could do was get back on the ice.
At night, I either watched Yeti games or coached the Mayhem. The high school team was coming alive, game by game. Passes were sharper, their skating cleaner, and they were finally starting totrusteach other. We had a real shot at playoffs by the end of February, and I was continually shocked by how much I loved coaching, especially with Ty at my side.
I felt good.Reallygood, actually. But this was a different kind of busy than anything I’d known. The NHL schedule was chaos and cameras, hotel rooms night after night. This was both slower and faster, focusing on so much more than myself.
The only thing I hadn’t figured out was how to get five uninterrupted minutes with Emmy without Jace or my mom popping up.
After a string of away games with the Mayhem, we were back home for a Friday night game. Like that first night back in town, the stands were packed. Everyone stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the bleachers, decked out in green and black.
New speakers hung above the score board courtesy of my brother, even though we hadn’t come to a business agreement with Tate yet. She kept putting us off, saying we could meet about it after the season. That hadn’t stopped Mason from sending vendors to install new things, one after the next.
