Page 34 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)
The Lantern hit me with a wall of sound the second we stepped inside—guitars, stomping boots, and a chorus of voices singing along to Alan Jackson like it was the national anthem.
Neon signs buzzed overhead, casting everything in a haze of electric blue and red.
The floor stuck just enough to remind me this place had history—years of dancing, drinking, and bad decisions sealed into the wood.
Ty clapped me on the back, his mustache twitching with a withheld grin. He’d traded his normal T-shirt for pearl snap button down that fit his whole rugged Mountain Man thing he had going on. “Cute little cowboy getup you’ve got there.”
I tugged the brim of my hat lower, half to hide my grin, half to feel like less of a fraud. The cowboy hat in question hadn’t seen daylight since a wedding a few years ago, but after Emmy’s badgering, I had to go all-in.
The place was packed, bodies swaying and stomping in perfect rhythm, boots sliding and spinning across the room.
The dance floor stretched wide, couples two-stepping like they’d been born with boots on.
Light caught on the rhinestones of some woman’s jeans as she spun, and for a second, I just took it all in. The whole room vibrated with life.
My gaze skirted over familiar faces from a lifetime ago, scanning the crowd for Emmy.
I’d been riding a high since that kiss in her kitchen last night, couldn’t stop replaying it. The way she’d looked up at me with that mix of surprise and heat. The way her fingers curled in my shirt like she didn’t want to let go.
She was coming with Stevie and Shannon tonight, both of whom had surprised the hell out of me last night.
“She’s not here yet.” Ty grabbed my shoulder and steered me toward a high-top along the edge of the room. “And I’ve been instructed to make you sit.”
I chuckled, but took the stool he offered, glad to take some of the pressure off my hip. I was feeling better, but the night was young, and this was New Years Eve. I needed to last. “Who?”
Ty shook his head, then walked toward the bar. Several people stopped to say hi, asking after my mom or my healing, but tonight it felt less invasive and more genuine interest and concern.
The song ended and a line dance formed to Brooks & Dunn, everyone gathering in neat rows.
I leaned against the high-top, letting my eyes sweep across the dance floor.
There was something hypnotic about it—boots stomping, hips swinging, arms slicing through the air in perfect sync.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was tight, controlled chaos, not all that different from the way we moved in practiced patterns on the ice.
I didn’t dance. Not well, anyway. But watching it now made me itch to try. I chalked it up to anticipation, the buzz of knowing she’d be here any second.
Movement near the door caught my attention, and the crowd shifted like a spotlight shining right on Emmy.
Jesus, that green dress clung to her like a secret, short enough to show off toned legs that should’ve been illegal, and long-sleeved with a deep V that made my mouth go dry.
Her brown hair curled in soft waves that brushed her shoulders, bouncing a little as she laughed at something Shannon said.
Worn leather boots hugged her calves just right, making me want to do something reckless, like cross the dance floor and kiss her in front of half the damn town.
Stevie didn’t give her the chance to get her bearings. She grabbed Emmy’s hand and dragged her straight onto the dance floor. Emmy stumbled into the line of dancers, wide-eyed and already laughing, like she knew she was in over her head but wasn’t about to back down.
Ty set a glass of water in front of me, taking a long swig of his beer, but I couldn’t look away from where Emmy stood under the disco ball in the middle of the dance floor.
She missed the first step, turned the wrong way, then bumped into Stevie with a little squeak. Her head tipped back in a laugh as she tried to catch the beat.
One, two, three. Step, turn, slide.
She started to move with the crowd, her brow furrowed in concentration, but her hips swaying with more confidence every beat. She looked light and wild and completely at home.
Just when I thought I couldn’t want her more, she looked up.
Her eyes locked on mine across the room, a little breathless, a little surprised. Her smile curled slow and wicked, like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.
That kiss last night had knocked me sideways. But this?
This felt like falling.
Ty’s long sigh finally drew my attention, and I looked over at my friend. “I see we’ve moved past attempting to be sly about this. You could at least try not to eye-fuck my sister in front of me.”
I grinned, loving that there was no malice in his tone. Reluctant acceptance I could work with. “She kissed me last night.”
His dark eyes shot my way, even though his attention stayed firmly out on the dance floor. “You sound 15.”
“Kinda feels that way too, man.”
The song switched, and Ty’s jaw worked like he was trying to decide what to say. Instead, he set his beer down and walked out onto the dance floor. His hand found his little sister’s, and he swung her out onto the floor as couples began pairing off.
Somewhere along the line, I forgot Ty was an excellent two-stepper. He and Emmy floated across the floor in a fast pace, just like I’d seen their parents do once upon a time. They moved with this easy, inherited rhythm, Emmy laughing up at her brother as he spun her with a little flair.
“Alright, cowboy, looking a little lovesick there.”
I turned to see Stevie grinning as she slid into the seat Ty vacated.
She had on a black lace top and jeans that hugged her curves, her dirty blonde hair hanging in a perfectly curled ponytail down her back and gold hoops in her ears.
A guy I hadn’t met before followed, brown hair slicked back away from his face .
“Luke Sutton.” He put the drinks he carried down then stretched out a hand to me. “I figured I should introduce myself before we get inducted into some weird husbands and partners cult.”
I barked a laugh and reached across to shake his hand. “Beckett Conway. Good to meet you.”
His grip was firm, the lean muscles in his forearms flexing beneath his rolled-up flannel shirt. “Huge fan, by the way. That shorthanded goal in game five of the Western Championship two years ago? Still gives me chills. My buddy and I watched it on repeat for a week.”
“Appreciate it.” I nodded, a little heat creeping up my neck. “Still hoping to get back out there once the hip’s healed.”
“You will,” Luke said, like it was a fact. “The Yetis need you.”
I liked him instantly.
Stevie took a long sip of whatever fruity thing she was drinking. “You should feel honored. I haven’t been out two nights in a row since before the boys started sleeping through the night.”
“You don’t say,” I replied, leaning back. “Girls’ night was a good time.”
Her smirk was pure trouble. “Until you crashed it.”
“I didn’t crash . I brought food, and she invited me in.”
“Uh-huh. Because women frequently turn down hot men standing on their porch with a steaming cup of queso after said hot man anonymously brought her gifts all week.” Stevie squinted her eyes, staring right at me. “Someone’s cooked here.”
I gave her my best innocent shrug, not willing to tell her it was my mom’s idea. “Alright, but I have to ask—what was with the shirts? I can’t stop thinking about how progressively worse they got.”
Stevie grinned over her glass. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I would, actually.”
She leaned in like she was about to tell me a secret, then just winked. “Moms of Mayhem never tell.”
Luke shook his head, laughing as he slung an arm around her shoulders. “I learned a long time ago not to ask too many questions.”
“Smart man.” I glanced back at the dance floor just in time to catch Emmy mid-spin, cheeks flushed, her smile bright and wild.
Shannon stood like a dark cloud on the side of the stage, talking to someone there.
All black everything—ripped jeans, boots, a sleeveless top that showed off a tattoo sleeve of roses.
Her dark hair hung long and straight, makeup sharp enough to cut.
She looked like she’d been dropped in from an entirely different universe, and yet people kept greeting her like she was a regular.
I hated that I knew why.
Once upon a time, Ray and my dad closed this place down more nights than not. Best friends till the end, until the end came too early. It was easy to imagine her sitting outside in a running car, hoping the door would swing open soon.
The song faded out in a swell of whoops and clapping, and a second later, Ty and Emmy were weaving their way through the crowd toward our table. Her cheeks were pink from dancing, curls a little wild now, that green dress hugging every damn curve .
Emmy’s gaze found mine instantly, and the smile she gave me went straight to my chest.
“Well, that was fun.” She brushed a curl out of her face as she reached the table. “I forgot how much of a menace Ty is on the dance floor.”
Ty elbowed his sister, then grabbed his beer off the table. “Me? You’re the one who barreled into poor Betty Steinberg. Almost broke her brand-new knee.”
Before I could jump in, Shannon appeared behind them carrying a whiskey for Emmy and a Diet Coke in her other hand.
“Here.” She passed off the drinks with the practiced efficiency of someone who’d done this too many times.
Emmy took her drink with a grateful smile, chewing on the tiny plastic straw. “You’re the best.”
The three women clustered together, dancing along to the beat as Ty and Luke stood on either side of me. It was too loud to hear their conversation, but something Stevie said made Emmy cackle, her hand gripping her side to hold her upright.
I couldn’t help but smile, watching her be so happy.