Page 25 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

Beckett left right before noon, and I sat on the front bench in the entryway with my head in my hands.

Shannon cast a look my way, and I knew if I wanted to talk, she’d stop and let me.

She took two classes at the local community college on Thursday afternoons though, so today was not the day to delay her.

Instead, I grabbed my coat and slipped my arms in the sleeves, then went down the street to the grocery and ordered two sandwiches from the deli counter. Paper bag in hand, I crossed River Street and went inside Hudson Hardware.

My brother stood behind the counter with his back to me, rearranging a cluttered corkboard plastered with flyers for firewood deliveries, community events, and a Free Kittens sign that had been up since Halloween. “Welcome in. Let me know if I can help you find anything.”

“It’s me,” I said, and my brother looked over his shoulder. I held up the bag of food, then shook it. “Hungry?”

“Yeah, let me finish this, and then I’ll meet you in the office.”

He turned back to the board, pulling off the outdated flyers, and I walked through the narrow aisles crammed with shelves stacked high with everything from screws and paint cans to snow shovels and gardening gloves.

My hand ran across the shelves, not a single fleck of dust in sight, just how my dad always kept it. Everything had its place, even if that place didn’t make much sense to anyone but him.

It wasn’t fancy, and it wasn’t trying to be.

Hudson Hardware was dependable—just like the town that kept it running and my brother that had taken over when my dad suddenly retired after a heart attack had taken him by surprise.

From the looks of it, Ty hadn’t changed a single thing in the year and a half he’d been running the store.

The rustic space was so different than my Pilates studio across the street, I couldn’t help but think about everything my brother had given up to pick up my dad’s mantle here in town.

Had anyone even asked him if this was what he wanted, or had my parents just assumed he’d take over since Dad’s heart attack had coincided with Ty’s NHL retirement ?

I sat in the wooden swivel chair behind the desk and laid out our food, twisting back and forth while I stewed over that depressing thought. How much would my brother give up for the people he loved? I wasn’t sure there was a limit.

A few minutes later, Ty walked in and took the chair across from me, grabbing his chicken bacon ranch sandwich and barbecue chips without asking which one was his. “You good?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, because for the first time in a year, I was. “You?”

Ty nodded in return, then bit into his sandwich. Ranch caught in the edge of his mustache, and I threw a napkin at him. “Caught in your mustache. Or what was it the kids called it? Lip lettuce?”

My brother chuckled, then wiped at his face. “Jace good?”

“Are we this bad at talking that we just ask each other if everyone is good until we die? Next thing you know, you’ll be asking when the last time I changed my oil.”

He tugged on his hat, readjusting it over his hair he’d let grow out lately. “Since it’s my car, I already know when the last oil change was. Now, the weather? We could definitely talk about the weather. Real barn burner of a topic.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Got strong feelings about clouds today?”

He took another bite, chewed, then shrugged. “They exist.”

God help me, this was his version of emotional vulnerability.

“Game tomorrow,” Ty said.

I tipped my forehead down to the wooden desk, staring at the spot where I’d spilled an entire can of neon pink paint when I was 10. My dad had sanded the wood floors and restained it, but you could still see little flecks of color. I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t done that on purpose.

“Is my son going to get thrown out again?”

Ty crumpled his empty chip bag into a ball and tossed it at my head. “Not if I can help it. Beckett’s good with him.”

The longest sigh of my life slipped free, and I picked my head up, resting my chin on the desk so I could see Ty. “I know. I hate it.”

Ty’s mustache twitched, then he shook his head. “Shit. Not you too.”

I sat up straighter, fixing my posture. “What does that mean? Not me too ?”

He groaned but didn’t elaborate. “Is Jace still flying out to spend New Years with Ryan?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. After Ryan didn’t show up for the home opener, it’s been more than a little tense though.

” Dread filled me at the thought of my son flying across the country for a week, but our custody agreement specified a rotating holiday schedule, and this was how it fell.

“He leaves the day after Christmas, and I’m alone for a whole week. ”

Ty scrubbed a hand across his face, then took his hat off completely, setting it on his knee.

His hair was long, curling at the nape of his neck from wearing a hat over it so much, but it had the same slightly wavy texture as my own.

We were only 16 months apart in age, and people often confused us for twins growing up.

He twisted his neck to the side, then grabbed at it, as if something was bothering him. “Why don’t we go out for New Years then?”

My brows shot up. “What did you say? ”

“We should go out, maybe just to The Lantern here in town. Get a drink or two, since we’ve never done that.”

I chuckled, realizing what he’d said was true. “How are we now in our mid-thirties and have never gone out for a drink together? You are my favorite brother, after all.”

“You know I love a stacked competition,” he said, then put his hat back on. “Let’s do it.”

I finished the rest of my sandwich, then folded the wrapper and put it in the trashcan under the desk. “I’ll think about it.”

Ty nodded and stood up. “Take a bag of candy from the counter if you want one.”

I did a little fist pump, glad that some things never changed. Without hesitation, I grabbed a bag of sour peach dots, then waved them over my head as I went back outside.

The plastic crinkled as I ripped the bag open and plucked a little candy out, then shoved it into my mouth. The flavor exploded like a ray of sunshine, and I grinned up at the sunny sky.

Unlike my lifelong obsession with everything peach, this infatuation with Beckett would fade. He’d be gone in eight weeks, and my life would go back to normal here.

I could do this.

“I can’t do this,” I said the next night, hands over my eyes. It was Friday, and the Mayhem had another home game. Unlike the last one, the Mayhem were tied 2-2 at the end of the second period. With Ty and Beckett both on the bench across the way, I was left sitting alone.

Well, not alone. I sat with Rowdy, Ty’s dog that went everywhere with him, and Juniper, his neighbor’s daughter.

When he’d introduced us before the game and asked if she could sit with me, I stared at him with a dozen questions, but Ty asked for nothing ever, and this was the second thing he’d asked of me in as many days.

“Statistically speaking, the likelihood of us winning this game is almost zero,” Juniper said.

I looked down at the 8-year-old who had talked almost the entire game using words that I only understood half the time.

She wore a Mayhem hoodie that looked like it might be Ty’s it was so big on her, black sparkly leggings, and snow boots I knew Ty sold at the store.

Her unbelievably thick dark blonde hair was pulled into a haphazard ponytail, cheeks pink from the cold rink, and no parent in sight.

“The Summit went to the State Championship last year. Sure, their captain went on to play Juniors and is no longer with them, but the Summit have a long line of recent successes that suggests their coaching style both attracts talent and develops it. On paper, we are much worse.”

“Well, that’s good to know, I guess.”

She looked up at me, pale blue eyes magnified behind her thick glasses. “Would you like to know their record from the last five years?”

“What about the statistical rates now that Miles has new glasses and is playing like he’s on fire?”

A beat of silence went by before she finally said, “I don’t know that yet. But I could start tracking the shots on goal.”

As if he could hear us, Miles dropped and blocked a shot headed straight between his legs, slamming his glove down over top of it. The stands exploded in excitement, and I reached a hand around Juniper’s shoulders, squeezing her tight to my side. “Look at him! ”

The little girl stiffened under my touch, so I quickly let her go. “Sorry.”

She shook her head, staring at Ty across the ice. “I like hugs.”

“Me too.” I nudged her shoulder with my hip, then leaned down. “You let me know anytime you want one, and I’ve got one ready for you.”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off my brother.

I looked back and forth between them too, trying to figure out the relationship here.

Prior to his retirement, Ty had spent little to no time in Linwood, so there was no way he had a secret daughter, but something about their unusual relationship screamed father-daughter.

“You spend a lot of time with Ty?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

Juniper grinned, her teeth a little too big for her face and more than a few missing. “Yeah. We live next door. My mom has headaches, and I like hanging out at his farm when she’s sick. The chickens are cute, as long as you don’t try to steal their eggs. Then they peck you.”

“Especially Nugget.”

Juniper nodded vigorously, her glasses nearly slipping off her face. “Nugget isn’t very nice. But Cluck Norris is the meanest.”

A laugh ripped out of me at my brother’s stupid names for his chickens. “He’s so mean, isn’t he? Almost as mean as Ty.”

Juniper shook her head, then looked up at me. “Ty’s not mean. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met. I like Beckett, too.”