Page 33 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)
Tuesdays were quickly becoming my favorite night of the week.
After Beckett’s many doorstep deliveries—candles, face masks, a freaking weighted eye pillow—Shannon, Stevie, and I had decided to host girl’s night at my place instead of at the studio. It felt cozier here anyway, especially with my kitchen lit up like a Hallmark movie had run off the rails.
Stevie’s husband Luke had picked up Harper after practice, and it was just the three of us to exchange our tacky holiday tees.
Never in our original planning did I think the night might also involveBeckett Conway, sitting in my kitchen with a bottle of Topo Chico and looking devastatingly attractive in a backward hat.
“I’m looking for an edge piece with snow on it.” His brow was furrowed, gaze flicking across the chaotic mess of puzzle pieces spread over my table.
Between the puzzle, the half-drunk wine bottles, and the crumpled Mexican takeout wrappers he’d both brought and I’d had delivered, the whole table looked like the aftermath of a bachelorette party hosted by someone’s grandma.
Shannon didn’t even look up from her side table as she said, “That’s like asking me to name which person I said I don’t like. You’re going to need to be way more specific than that.”
Beckett froze, mid-reach.
Stevie cackled. I pressed my forehead to the table, laughing so hard my ribs ached. It wasn’t even that funny, but the whole night was so unexpected, it hit me just right.
Beckett shook his head, grinning like he was actually enjoying himself, which might’ve been the biggest surprise of the night.
Hockey played on the muted TV across the room, and Beckett’s attention was split between it and the puzzle, but he didn’t get up. Didn’t leave. Didn’t even ask me to turn it up so he could hear it over the 90’s country that was playing on my speakers.
“Why did you get such a big puzzle?” Stevie asked, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “Who has time for 1,000 pieces?”
“We don’t have to finish it,” I said, resting my cheek on the table as I stared at the half-finished puzzle I’d been working on all week.
Shannon slapped her hand on the table so hard, my wine splashed over the rim. “We are not quitters. That’s what the patriarchy wants.”
“Yeah!” Beckett cried, and I looked at the TV to see what he was cheering for.
Except it wasn’t the game.
His glass bottle clinked against Shannon’s own Diet Coke can, neither of them drinking with Stevie and me .
“I might be,” Stevie said through a mouthful of tortilla chips. She was leaning slightly to the right in her chair, her eyelids drooping. “It’s so far past my bedtime, it’s practically tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Shannon said, then pushed away from the table. “Let’s get you home.”
“I can drive myself,” Stevie said, standing with her hand resting on the table.
“No,” Beckett and Shannon said in unison.
I picked my head up, staring at them. Linwood was a small town, and we all remembered the car accident that had taken Beckett’s dad, David, and sent Shannon’s dad to prison for vehicular manslaughter while driving drunk.
Beckett had around a decade on Shannon though and had a fantastic mom that was left behind to carry the load.
Shannon… she didn’t have that. I’d already moved away, but from what I’d heard around town, Shannon had lived with her grandma until her teen years, and then had done her best to survive on her own after she passed away.
“Let’s go.” Shannon dipped under Stevie’s arm and lifting her like she was all too familiar with taking care of drunks.
“Motherhood has made me such a lightweight,” Stevie whined, leaning into Shannon’s side and resting her head on her shoulder. “I think I’m more delirious than drunk. But this was the best night I’ve had in years. I just love you girls so much.”
Shannon chuckled, then leaned her head down too. “You’re not half bad.”
I gasped, my hand over my chest. “Are… are we friends now?”
Shannon shook her head, her nose scrunched up but a smile spreading as if it was against her will. “Not yet. But closer.”
Gathering Stevie’s and Shannon’s things, I followed them to the door, already mentally planning out next Tuesday. I stood on the stoop as they got into Shannon’s little car, waving goodbye.
Stevie rolled down the window, half hanging out of it as she pointed the door and whisper-yelled, “Beckett’s hot as fuck, Emmy. You should bang him.”
A choked laugh sounded behind me, and my cheeks flushed with warmth.
“Goodnight, Stevie.” I drew out the words as they drove away, Stevie’s hand out the window even though it was freezing outside.
I went back inside, suddenly aware it was just Beckett and me in my house. He stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing out cups and looking far too comfortable in my space. Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall and watched him, noticing the way his biceps flexed on each pass of the sponge.
Stevie was right—Beckett was probably the hottest man I’d ever seen, and the little buzz I had going was just enough to make me admit it to myself.
He looked up at me while he rinsed the next dish. “Did you have fun?”
“Mmhmm,” I mumbled, staring at the bubbles clinging to his forearms.
He dried his hands on a dish towel, then turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed casually like he hadn’t hijacked all the air in the room by existing.
“I like your friends.” A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Even if one of them wants to launch a public campaign for us to hook up. Actually, maybe that makes me like her more.”
I groaned, pressing my hands to my face. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“I was standing right behind you.”
“Still.”
His little laugh was enough to make me peer through my fingers, and his gaze lit with a warmth I felt all the way to my core.
“Was she wrong?” There was no teasing in his voice. Just quiet curiosity, layered with heat and something I wasn’t ready to name yet.
I swallowed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He slowly stepped closer, like giving me time to bolt if I needed to. “That’s okay,” he said. “We don’t have to know.”
God, he smelled good. Clean and warm and like the spearmint gum he chewed. He stopped a few feet away, close enough to feel but not touch.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice low and careful.
I stared up at him, meeting his bright blue gaze. My breaths came quick, my heart racing as I looked up at the boy I’d known my whole life, grown into a man I liked far more than I was comfortable admitting.
“Yes.”
One word. Barely louder than a breath.
In an instant, he was there, one hand cupping my cheek, the other brushing the curve of my waist like I was something delicate. His mouth met mine soft at first, but when I leaned into him, it deepened, slow and sure and so full of want I nearly melted against the wall.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic.
It was everything .
When we finally pulled apart, I blinked up at him, dazed and breathless.
“Well,” I said. “Stevie’s going to freak out when I tell her.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through my chest, then kissed me again.
Neither of us spoke for a second. I could still feel the kiss on my lips—soft, warm, a little dizzying. His forehead rested against mine, and the silence between us was its own kind of intimacy.
Beckett exhaled slowly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “I should go.”
“Yeah,” I said, even though every part of me wanted to tell him he didn’t have to. “Probably.”
He stepped back, eyes sweeping over me like he was trying to memorize this exact moment—the wine-flushed cheeks, the ridiculous lemon T-shirt, the mess of puzzle pieces on the table behind me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he said, already reaching for his hoodie on the back of the couch.
“For New Year’s Eve,” I confirmed, heart beating way too fast. “Don’t be late.”
He grinned and it was more than a little smug. “Not a chance.”
Before I had time to change my mind, he slipped out into the cold. I stood there for a long time after the door shut, lips still tingling, toes curled into my socks, and absolutely no idea what tomorrow might bring.
But God, I couldn’t wait to find out.
Stevie added Shannon to the group chat
Stevie
My head
Emmy
Lol, you doing okay?
Shannon
Where am I?
Stevie changed the name of the group chat to Moms of Mayhem
Stevie
Hell?
Is this hell?
It might be hell.
Shannon
Drink a Gatorade, and have some breakfast. You’ll be right as rain in no time.
Emmy
I’ve never understood that expression, right as rain. Is there wrong rain?
Stevie
Don’t ask me these questions. The kids all got up at 6. I know nothing.
Shannon
Ouch. Naptime soon? And why am I in the club? I’m not a mom.
Stevie
Shh. You’re one of us now. Go with it.
I’m hiding in my closet, sipping a Gatorade through a curly straw because lifting my head seems like a lot of work.
Shannon
So… are you coming out tonight? Ruth said she’ll come watch the kids.
Emmy
What?! Is that a possibility? PLEASE come tonight! I need moral support.
Stevie
Only if you promise to make out with Beckett in front of me.
Shannon
Nope. I don’t need to see that.
Stevie
Are you kidding me? I do. That man is so hot I could cook an egg on him.
Emmy
Okay, well, now I’m blushing and also weirdly craving eggs???
Stevie
You’re welcome.
Also, Luke says he’ll wear flannel and pretend to know how to line dance. We’re in.
Shannon
I hate all of you. I’m going to smell like beer and despair by 9 p.m.
Emmy
That’s the spirit!!! We’re ringing in the new year with rhinestones and regrets.
Shannon
Can I wear black? Is that allowed in a country bar?
Stevie
If you also wear a pair of boots and a bad attitude, sure.
Shannon
Perfect. I’ve got both in spades.
Emmy
What do I wear?
Stevie
The sluttiest thing you own. I need you to bang that man and report back.
Shannon
Do you own anything slutty or is it all leggings? Do I need to come over and choose for you?
Stevie
Yes, do that. I’m saying yes for you, Emmy, because this is my personal mission now.
I’m wearing sparkles. Shannon, bring your black eyeliner and general rage.
Shannon
Done.
Emmy
As our lord and savior Shania Twain once said, Let’s go girls.
Stevie
LONG LIVE THE MOMS OF MAYHEM
Shannon
God help us all.
I rolled over in bed, grinning as I stared at my phone for a multitude of reasons. It had been a long time since I’d had as much fun as I did last night. And that kiss?
I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Butterflies took flight in my belly at the thought of seeing him again tonight.
Since Beckett had a doctor’s appointment this morning, we’d canceled our normal training session, and the studio was closed for two days to give my staff some much-needed vacation time.
Jace had been texting me off and on while he was in Connecticut, and last night he’d even gone to a New York Empire game. The picture he sent was a selfie of him in a new hockey sweater and matching hat.
He was alone, but I could see the chubby little leg of his half-brother in the photo, as if my son had tried to shield me from the reality of our circumstance.
A year ago, I’d been crushed about Ryan’s infidelity.
Knowing I wasn’t the only woman in his life wasn’t as devastating as it should have been—I think deep down I knew it, even before it was confirmed.
The late nights, the text messages, the trips away that didn’t quite line up with his work calendar.
But the baby—that hurt far more than I wanted to relive. I’d wanted more kids our entire marriage, and Ryan had always said no, that our lives were too full, as it was.
That paternity test in the mail was the slap in the face I needed. The reminder that I’d put my life on hold for a man who wasn’t present, who didn’t love me, and didn’t prioritize my son.
Ryan had a way of spinning things to make everything seem like my fault—if I hadn’t been so demanding, maybe he would have stayed. If I’d just smiled more, complained less, stopped needing so much, maybe I could’ve held his attention.
For a long time, I believed him. I twisted myself into knots trying to be easier, quieter, more agreeable. I thought if I could fix myself, I could fix us.
Then came the anger—slow-burning at first, like a pilot light. It flared every time I remembered the gaslighting, the deflection, the way he dismissed my concerns like I was crazy for even having them.
I grieved the life I thought we were building, the future I’d imagined for our family. I grieved the version of me that believed love meant shrinking myself to fit him.
But now… now I could see it clearly.
It wasn’t me. It was never me.
He was never going to show up for me the way I deserved. And that wasn’t my failure—it was his.
I pulled the covers tighter around my shoulders and stared at the ceiling, the faint morning light filtering through the curtains. It felt strange not to hear the soft thump of Jace’s feet on the stairs or the blender whirring up a morning shake. The silence was bittersweet. Peaceful, but empty.
And yet… not entirely.
Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel hollow. I didn’t feel like I was just going through the motions. Beckett had a lot to do with that.
And that kiss… God. It wasn’t just good. It was a shift, li ke the ground had tilted a few degrees, and suddenly, I could see a whole new horizon.
I pressed my phone to my chest and let out a long sigh.
Maybe it was reckless to let myself hope for something. But wasn’t that what New Year’s Eve was for?
A clean slate.
A fresh start.
A little bit of magic if you were brave enough to believe in it.
Tonight, I was going to wear something that made me feel good. I was going to put on lipstick and laugh too loud and drink something bubbly. And if Beckett looked at me like he did last night?
I wasn’t going to talk myself out of it this time. I’d spent enough years playing small. Playing safe.
This year, I wanted more.