Page 39 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

“He’s cheating on Meredith, too,” Jace’s voice drifted through the half-cracked door. “Had a woman pinned against the bathroom wall when I went to find him. Then he asked me to lie for him.”

I stopped with one leg in my jeans, fists clenched on the waistband as fury turned my vision red. This fucking asshole.

“That—” Emmy started, then cut herself off.

The ache in her voice twisted something deep in my chest. “He is a grown man. That is a completely unacceptable thing to ask of you, his child, and I am so sorry he put you in that position. I will speak to him about this and make sure we’re on the same page moving forward. He cannot ask that of you.”

Jace sniffed, and I finished dressing, shrugging into my henley, even though I was missing a sock and my boxers. I scanned the floor around the bed, then swiped a hand under the bed for the missing items but couldn’t find them anywhere.

“I didn’t do it anyway,” Jace said, and my head popped up listening intently. “She picked me up from the studio after the podcast since he had to record Hockey Tonight, and I told her he was having a meltdown while trimming his nose hairs in the bathroom.”

I choked.

A sharp, involuntary laugh punched the back of my throat, and I slapped a hand over my mouth.

Emmy let out a startled snort before catching herself. “Jace,” she warned, but there was zero heat in it.

“What?” he said, deadpan. “He does have weird nose hairs now, so she bought it. I hope I don’t inherit that.”

I crouched again, one boot on, the other forgotten as I scanned for my sock with renewed urgency. My hip protested the movement, a sharp zing that reminded me of every way I’d tested my hip last night.

Glancing toward the door, still ajar, I listened to the voices drifting through it like echoes from another life. One I knew better than I wanted to admit.

I’d been the kid making cutting jokes to cover the fact that it hurt. That the people who were supposed to show up didn’t. That you had to laugh or else you’d crack wide open.

Giving up on the missing items, I crept across the room, trying not to let the old wooden floorboards creak beneath me.

Everything smelled like her—lavender and vanilla and something fruity.

Her bed was still rumpled from the night we spent tangled in it, and her green dress was splayed across the floor like some kind of forgotten evidence.

I should’ve felt smug. Satisfied. Maybe even amused.

But all I felt was heavy.

Jace was talking about Ryan, but without knowing it, he was describing my dad too. Different flavor, same poison.

Mine hadn’t been flashy or well-dressed or on national television. He’d just been gone—buried in the bottom of a whiskey bottle most nights, yelling about things I didn’t understand and forgetting he even had a wife and kids.

He didn’t make excuses. He didn’t even try. Like we never even mattered enough to disappoint.

Before I could drown in a past I’d spent the last 20 years running from, I looked toward the window, considering the worst possible plan: open it, swing my good leg out, lower myself carefully down the porch overhang, and?—

Yeah, no. Not happening.

I could still hear Frankie’s voice in my head like a tiny drill sergeant: Do not overload the joint. No sudden impact. No unnecessary stress. And do your fucking clamshells.

Jumping out a second-story window for sure qualified as “unnecessary stress.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Fantastic. That left the hallway, stairs, front door, and a high probability of getting caught like some idiot sneaking out after a high school hookup.

Cracking the door a little wider, I listened to Emmy and Jace, voices quieter now. They were still in his bedroom, so maybe I could make it.

I took a breath and eased out into the hall, one careful step at a time, my boots in hand to keep the noise. Each creak of the floorboard sounded louder than a gunshot, but I kept going.

Down the hall.

Past the bathroom.

Past the open door where I could just barely glimpse Jace laying with his head on Emmy’s knee, one hand in his hair. A picture of stability. Of effort. Of a mom who showed up, even when it hurt.

And then I was at the stairs.

They groaned under my weight like a tattletale.

I froze.

No one called out. No one moved.

I made it to the bottom and exhaled slowly, gripping the banister like I’d just completed an Olympic event. My hip throbbed, reminding me that I was not, in fact, invincible and had spent the night fucking the woman of my dreams in any position I could get us into pain-free.

But I was down.

I straightened up and glanced around the quiet living room, the remnants of Emmy and Jace’s life everywhere—shoes by the door, books on the side table, and that peachy coral throw blanket half off the couch.

It was domestic and real and terrifyingly perfect, and I didn’t want to screw it up. Not for her. Not for Jace.

Because if I was going to be in their lives, I needed to be more than just a warm body in the night. I needed to show up, too. Even when it hurt. Even when it was hard.

I needed to show them what stability looked like. To pick up the pieces when they were falling apart.

The lock turned quietly, and I snuck outside onto the front porch. A soft beep sounded, and I turned to look up at the little red light of the security camera I’d been dodging all week. Emmy had been delighted by all my gifts, but I knew just what Jace needed this time .

Yanking on my boots, I fished my car keys out from my pocket and made my way down the street to where I’d parked my truck. Last night, I’d been annoyed by the number of cars blocking the street near her house, but in the light of day, maybe it was a good thing I’d had to park so far away.

I made it to my truck and climbed inside, letting the heater warm up the cab until it felt like it would after a drive from my place to his. With a quick glance in my mirror, I pulled out into the street, and right into her driveway.

I pulled on a spare Yeti hoodie from the back and slapped a Mayhem hat over my head, then walked up to her front door, truck still running behind me.

Emmy’s neighbor stood on their front stoop, staring at me with a shovel in hand. I hadn’t noticed him when I’d left her house a few minutes ago, but the imagery of this situation was comical.

My hands shook as I reached forward to knock on the door, unease getting the best of me. Emmy and I hadn’t talked about what was going on between us, and she seemed hesitant about telling Jace we were anything more than family friends.

But there was a kid upstairs devastated that his father was a piece of shit and didn’t care about him, and I was here, standing outside, very much caring about him.

With one last exhale, I reached forward and rapped on the door, then backed up enough they’d be able to see me from Jace’s window.

The curtains parted, and Emmy’s face stared out in confusion seconds before Jace’s appeared next to hers.

“Wake up, sleepy head. Time to skate.”

The front door swung open a minute later, and Emmy stepped out onto the porch, her hair still a little wild from sleep.

My hoodie swallowed her frame, the sleeves covering her hands, and I had to force myself to look her in the eyes instead of letting myself remember exactly what she looked like splayed out for me to devour.

She looked up the stairs, then back to where I stood on the stoop. “How are you outside?”

“I flew,” I said, straight-faced. “You liked that bat-boy book, right? Thought it might give me a better chance.”

She pulled her lips into her mouth, holding in a laugh, but just shook her head.

Before either of us could say more, Jace appeared behind her, ruffling his wavy hair. “Dude. What are you doing here? I told you I wouldn’t be back today.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and did my best to play it cool, even though I was sweating under the hoodie like I’d just run a damn marathon. “Oh, really? Must have gotten my days mixed up.”

Emmy’s eyes narrowed. Jace didn’t look convinced either, but he shrugged.

“It is New Year’s, though, so I thought I’d let you sleep in. You want to come skate or not?” I nodded toward the truck idling in the driveway. “Pond’s waiting.”

Jace lit up like someone had flipped a switch, and I could practically see the tension drain from his shoulders. “Yeah, give me two minutes.”

He disappeared inside, and suddenly it was just Emmy and me. The wind bit through my hoodie, but I didn’t mind. Not when she looked at me like that—still a little stunned, like she hadn’t decided whether she wanted to kiss me or kill me.

“Good morning,” I said, smiling just enough to keep things light .

She folded her arms across her chest, probably more for warmth than anything else, but it gave her a look of wary suspicion I’d seen that first night back in town, and it was still just as adorable.

“Beckett…”

“I know,” I said quickly. “We need to talk about this, whatever it is. But I could hear him talking, and trust me, that boy just needs someone to show up. I may not be able to do it every time, but today I can. Today, he can see with his own eyes just how much he means to me. Just how much I care. So”—I held my hands out to the side, hoping she knew I wasn’t talking about just Jace—“here I am. If you’ll have me. ”

Her expression softened a little, and I threw in my last-ditch effort. “Come with us. I know you don’t want to leave him after this morning, and Mom would love to see you.”

Her brows rose. “Skate? With you two?”

“Yeah. Come hang out. We can have lunch later. And maybe it’d be nice for Jace to see he’s not the only one with complicated parents. That having a mom who shows up every single time is pretty fucking cool, even if your dad suffers from excessive nose hairs and an inflated ego.”

Emmy smirked, bringing the sleeve of my hoodie up to her mouth. When she didn’t answer right away, I kept going.

“Ty’s coming too. You can sit with him and silently judge me together. He lives for that kind of thing.”

That earned a reluctant snort from her, the corner of her mouth pulling up. “Ty’s going?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper public shaming without him,” I said. “But seriously, come. You don’t have to skate. Just be there.”

Her eyes met mine, and there was something soft and searching in her gaze, like she was measuring the cost of saying yes.

“I’d like that,” she said quietly. “Just let me get dressed.”

And just like that, I breathed a sigh of relief.

She was coming.

I didn’t know exactly what that meant for us yet, but for now, it felt like something solid. Something real.