Page 19 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

Yes, coaching was another huge responsibility, but Ty loved hockey in a way he did not love the hardware store or any of the multitude of things he signed up for.

Retirement had been an adjustment for him, and I still felt like he was scrambling to fill his days so full he didn’t allow himself time to miss it.

And besides, Ty loved my son. Adored him, even. I might have struck out for my kid on the whole, sorry your dad is a piece of shit thing, but at least I’d given him the best uncle to ever exist.

I fiddled with the sound system until soft piano music played over the speakers, something that would be relaxing for both Stevie and her little girl. A wave of nostalgia hit me as the soft tunes played, and I picked up my phone, looking back at the picture of Jace from this morning.

When I went to zoom in on his happy face again, my thumb slipped, and suddenly I was staring at Beckett up close instead.

God, he was stunning.

That scruffy-but-suspiciously-well-groomed beard framed a jaw so sharp it could probably cut through my better judgment. And those bright, impossible blue eyes holding a hint of mischief had me so flustered I let out a tiny moan.

“You okay?” Shannon stuck her head out from behind the partition.

I scrambled to minimize the picture, clicked the wrong button, and somehow opened my own camera instead. So now I stared at an unflattering version of my panicked front-camera face while still thinking about his stupidly perfect one. “Yep. I’m good.”

Shannon’s brow scrunched, then movement on the street caught her attention, and I followed her gaze to the front door. Stevie stood outside, carrying a red-faced baby girl and a worn-out expression.

I hurried out from behind the desk to get the door for her, my smile big enough to blind a NASA satellite and maybe distract from the fact that I’d nearly cried over a man’s jawline ten seconds ago.

“Hi!” I chirped, my voice two octaves too high.

“Hey,” I tried again, this time channeling my bored teenage son mid-eyeroll, then cringed.

“I’m so glad you made it!” Third time was the charm, and this time I sounded only slightly like a Pomeranian who might pee on your foot at any moment.

Stevie rocked back and forth, staring at her daughter who had stopped crying long enough to give me the stank eye, as if she remembered I was the one who’d thrown coffee on her.

Harper had deep brown eyes and blonde hair peeking out from under a tiny beanie. She had little snow boots on over what looked like a fleece one-piece pajama set with snowmen on it.

“I almost didn’t come,” Stevie said. “Teething is killing us this week, and Harper is on one today. She wouldn’t even let me get her dressed.”

A soft squeak sounded from behind me, and I turned to see Shannon standing behind the partition with a hand over her mouth. “That is the cutest fucking baby I’ve ever seen.”

Stevie laughed, and I turned back to her. “So, that’s Shannon. She’s in school to be a speech pathologist and great with kids, if Harper doesn’t have stranger danger. ”

“It’s fine,” Shannon said with a sniff that didn’t cancel out her previous reaction at all. “I’m patient. She doesn’t have to like me.”

As if Harper carried a little bullshit detector, she wiggled out of her mom’s arms and toddled over to Shannon, looking straight up.

Her hat slipped off her head and fell on the floor behind her.

Shannon let out a giggle that did not fit with the Goth vibe she wore like a suit of armor.

I bit the insides of my cheeks as Shannon squatted down in front of Harper with a wave.

“Hi Harper, my name is Shannon.” She pulled the little dragon toy out from behind her back, shaking it gently until Harper looked at the toy. “Would you like to see what other toys I have?”

Harper looked over her shoulder at her mom, then followed Shannon into the studio toward the playpen in the back.

“Holy shit,” Stevie said, peeking around the corner of the partition wall into the dimly lit studio. Shannon held the gate open to the playpen, and Harper sat down on her bottom, trying to pull off her little boots.

“What a smart girl.” Shannon squatted down to help Harper take off her shoes, then took off her own. “We take off our shoes when we go inside, don’t we?”

Harper said nothing, but Shannon kept talking as if Harper was responding, never babying her, but also speaking in short enough words to show me she’d be absolutely fabulous as a speech pathologist when she finished her degree.

“She just—” Stevie looked back at me with wide eyes. “Harper hates everyone.”

“Yes, well, kindred spirits, I guess. So does Shannon.”

Stevie chuckled, then let out a sigh a sigh. “Maybe I should be slightly more alarmed that my toddler was so willing to leave me for a complete stranger, but also, she hasn’t let go of me in days. So, thank you for this. I’m already happier than I’ve been all week.”

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to tamp down the excitement bubbling up in me. “Well, welcome to Elevation Pilates.” I nudged her shoulder, then clapped my hands in quick succession, unable to contain my excitement. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Stevie nodded, then returned my smile. “Me too. Although, I have to warn you, I haven’t exercised regularly since I had my second kid. Who is five.”

“That’s okay.” I led her back into the studio, gesturing to the reformer closest to Harper, then the one farthest away. “You tell me where works best for you.”

Stevie glanced over at her child happily clapping along to a song Shannon sang, then pointed at the reformer farthest away. “Out of sight, out of mind, maybe.”

I bent down to adjust it for her, pointing out the basics of the machine. Stevie took off her jacket, listening intently, casting glances up at her daughter every few minutes. “You ready to try it?”

Stevie opened her mouth to answer, and the cutest belly laugh sounded from the back of the room.

Shannon laughed in return, and Stevie grinned at me.

I swear some unhealed part of my own motherhood journey stitched itself closed at the sight, my chest squeezing.

I was so happy to offer even this tiny slice of peace to a mom in need.

“Let’s do it.”

I smiled, then helped Stevie get in position lying flat on her back on the reformer, feet on the bar.

“Close your eyes and focus on your breathing for a minute, and I’ll go grab my phone.

I wrote out a list of exercises that are great for post-partum moms, no matter how long you’ve been post-partum. ”

She yawned and gave me a thumbs up, so I headed for the front desk.

My phone still sat face-up, and I grabbed it, glancing down at several excited texts from Jace. Seemed like we were both having a good day.

“Alright.” I tapped the little heart emoji on Jace’s text, then went back toward Stevie’s reformer. “First, we’ll start with some warmups. Put your heels together, toes about three inches apart, and slowly push away from the bar until your legs are straight.”

When no movement came from my peripheral vision, I looked up at Stevie only to find her passed out asleep, mouth slightly ajar and a soft snore filtering through the room.

I bit the insides of my cheeks to contain my laugh, then glanced back at Shannon and Harper playing contentedly at the back of the room.

When I’d imagined this class, I wanted to create a “take what you need” vibe, and apparently what Stevie needed was a nap.

Tip-toeing away from her reformer, I left Stevie to sleep and went back to the front desk to retrieve my laptop. She was still asleep when I came back into the studio, so I sat on the reformer next to her and began answering emails I was behind on.

Most were bills I quickly paid, only slightly sweating over the balance in my business checking account. Things were going well, but I still had about $16,000 in start-up costs to pay off in addition to my regular operating costs, and the last thing I wanted to do was ask Ty for another loan .

Avoiding the rest of the bills for today, an email from my former boss caught my attention, and I clicked on it.

Subject:PT Check-Ins – Linwood Athlete

Hey Emmy,

Hope you’re doing well. I heard you’ve got your studio up and running in Linwood—congrats!

Quick question: I got a call from an old contact about an athlete currently staying near you during his recovery, and the Denver Yeti would like someone to do daily PT progress checks while he’s there.

Nothing too intensive—just eyes on mobility, pain management, and adherence to the plan they lay out for him.

Would you be interested in taking that on?

They’re offering $1,750 a week, but I think you can ask for even more, and they’ll say yes.

Seems like a desperate situation. This athlete is insisting he won’t go back to Denver until he can practice with the team, so you’d be looking at eight weeks, at least.

Let me know your thoughts, and I can send you the details.

Best,

Jordan Riviera, DPT

I brushed a hand over my face, reading the email again, then again. There was no doubt in my mind Jordan meant Beckett, unless some other Denver Yeti player was insisting on recovering in teeny, little Linwood, Colorado.

“ Fourteen thousand dollars ,” I whispered, and Shannon lifted her head to look at me with a quizzical look. I waved her off, then looked up at Stevie, still sleeping peacefully, and back at my computer.

My finger hovered over the reply button, unease eating me alive. Avoiding Beckett would be a lot harder if he wasn’t only coaching my son’s hockey team but also required to check in with me daily for his PT progress.

I hit the button, still not sure how I was planning to answer.

Professional? Friendly? Emotionally dead inside?

Because there was no version of this where I’d survive watching Beckett do slow, controlled hip work every morning while I pretended to take notes instead of experiencing a full-body spiritual crisis.

Labral tear rehab was basically just a 10-week thirst trap, and I was one deep breath away from prescribingice and celibacy.

Yeah. Totally fine. Definitely qualified for this. Very above it all. Probably.

Subject:RE: PT Check-Ins – Linwood Athlete

Hey Jordan,

Great to hear from you, and thanks!

See if they’ll up their price to $2,000 a week, and I’m in.

Sincerely,

Emmy Hudson Meyers

Elevation Pilate s

My computer made a little whoosh sound as my email was flung into the virtual ether, and a high-pitched delighted squeal sounded from the back of the room.

Stevie jerked upright like she’d been electrocuted, her hand over her chest. “Oh, my God. I fell asleep. I’m so sorry. ”

I grinned, then put my computer to the side. “The way I see it, you just tapped into that deep breathing like I told you to. So, job well done.”

Stevie chuckled, then covered her face with both hands. “This is so embarrassing. We were supposed to be on a first friend date, and I fell asleep .” Her hands dropped and her eyes went wide. “Shit, I just said we’re on a date out loud, didn’t I?”

I snorted and walked around her reformer to sit on the mat beside her, curling my legs under me like we were at a sixth-grade sleepover.

“If it makes you feel better, that’s how I’ve been thinking of it in my head too.

I even considered bringing matching friendship bracelets but figured I should play it cool. ”

“That actually does make me feel better.” Stevie laughed, then looked toward the playpen, where her daughter and Shannon were having what could only be described as a tiny rave—butts were shaking, hands in the air, while knees bounced to a beat of a song about bananas.

“Don’t tell my husband, but this might be the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

I dropped my chin to my chest, trying not to grin like a lunatic. “Your secret’s safe with me. But fair warning—I’m the clingy type. You fall asleep on me once and I’m already giving us a couple’s name. Stemmy has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Or maybe Evie? ”

Stevie’s hands shot up, her face lit up with excitement. “How about the Moms of Mayhem instead?”

A little gasp came out of my mouth, and I bounced on my knees. “Yes. That. Should we make shirts?”

“Absolutely, we should.”

“Consider it done.” I stuck my hand out, ready to shake, and Stevie slapped her palm in mine. “Welcome to the club.”