Page 42 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

We’d hardly made it through the door before Jace sprawled across the couch, controller in hand, the last slice of pizza from the after party at Slice and Spice dangling from his mouth.

I nudged a plate under his chin to catch the piece of pizza before it fell on my sofa. “Nice game, bud. You didn’t even get a penalty. Who are you?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Growth.”

“Mmhmm. Don’t forget to put your gear in the laundry machine. It reeks.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is, Jace. It absolutely is.”

I left him to his digital war zone and headed upstairs, undoing my ponytail on the way to my room. The second I walked in, I beelined for the black hoodie hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

Technically, it was Beckett’s. Realistically, I was never giving it back.

Way too big, soft as sin, and smelling faintly like whatever bodywash he used.

I slipped out of my bra and sweater then pulled it over my head, letting it swallow me whole.

Without meaning to, I sighed like some lovesick teenager who couldn’t get enough.

As it settled over my skin, I heard it.

Thud. Thud.

I looked over my shoulder at the window, confused as to what the sound was at 11PM on a Friday.

Thud-thud.

Crossing the room, I peered out the window and grinned. Beckett stood below in the snow with a handful of snowballs, smiling up at me like some sort of Hallmark hero.

I yanked the window open, a puff of freezing mountain air smacking me in the face. “Why didn’t you just text me, you doofus?”

He shrugged, teeth flashing in the dark. “Seemed more like something one of those book boyfriends of yours would do.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks, trying to contain my laugh, even as my heart fluttered at the sweet gesture.

“I’m just excited. We coached a win tonight, Peach. And I need a victory kiss.”

My face heated, despite the bitter cold breeze. “Give me a sec,” I whisper-shouted down, then shut the window.

Downstairs, Jace was mid-match, headset on. I grabbed my keys off the counter, heart racing as I thought of an excuse.

Tapping my son’s shoulder, I said, “I need to run to the store for some coffee creamer. I’ll be back in a few.”

He gave me a quick nod, then went back to his game.

Beckett’s truck idled at the curb, already warm inside when I climbed in. The moment the door closed, he reached across the center console, grabbing me by the back of the neck. Our mouths collided like it had been years instead of hours since the last time I’d kissed him just this morning.

By the time I was ready to combust, he pulled back, his gaze still heated like he couldn’t get enough. With a quick glance up at the house behind us, he handed me a travel mug.

“Hot cocoa, with those little heart-shaped marshmallows you always liked.”

“Are you trying to seduce me with childhood nostalgia?”

“Is it working?”

I took a sip, savoring the sweet taste. “Disturbingly well.”

He pulled away from the curb, snow crunching beneath his tires as we left Linwood and headed up a familiar winding road. It took me a second to realize where we were going.

“You’re kidding me.”

Beckett glanced over. “What?”

“Beckett Conway, are you taking me to Makeout Point?”

“I believe its official name is Elkhorn Point.”

“Oh, was that your game? Convince them to come lay under the stars and bore them with elk trivia? I mean, once they hear bull elk pee on their own legs to impress a mate, hockey smell seems not so bad, right?’”

He pulled to the overlook and threw the truck in park, doing his best to bite back a smile. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

I laughed as he hopped out and opened the tailgate, hauling out a whole pile of thick blankets like he’d done this a time or twelve.

I climbed up beside him as we laid the blankets down. “You’ve had practice here.”

He flopped down on the pallet we made and laced his hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the inky- black sky freckled with stars. “Guilty. But not in about 20 years. Some moves stand the test of time, though.”

I settled in next to him, resting my head on his chest. His arm came around my back, holding me to his side as I listened to his heart beat a steady, calming rhythm.

“I made out with one guy here my sophomore year. We got to first base before Ty pulled up beside us and honked the horn. Scared the guy so bad, he cried.”

Beckett barked a laugh. “I forgot you dated what’s-his-name. Brian something. Ran track. Real sweaty.”

“That’s the one,” I chuckled. “Needless to say, I never kissed anyone up here again.”

“Well.” Beckett rolled onto his side to face me, his nose brushing mine. “Allow me to change that.”

“Oh, smooth,” I teased, but my cheeks flamed, despite the cold night air.

“Was it? Because I feel like I’m struggling to hide the fact that I’m completely, hopelessly, stupidly into you. And I can’t stop wondering if you feel the same way.”

I wiggled my head back and forth, doing a shitty job of containing my grin. “Maybe a little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

His fingers tangled in my hair, cradling my head as he hovered his lips just over mine, waiting for me to answer.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

His lips touched down on mine in a featherlight kiss, one after the next, testing and teasing.

And then we were all in.

It was the kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your fingers itch to tug someone closer. The kind of kiss that felt like a livewire had been pressed right against your skin and lit up every nerve ending from the inside out.

Beckett’s hand found my waist under the blanket, fingers splayed wide over my skin. “Hope Ty doesn’t come honk at us,” he murmured against my lips.

I shook with laughter, even as I pulled him closer. He climbed over top of me, pinning me to the blankets beneath us. His hand slid under my hoodie, pushing the fabric up and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

He paused enough to look at me. “You cold?”

“No,” I said, my lips swollen and voice breathless. “You?”

He shook his head, dipping to kiss along my neck. “Not even a little.”

My fingers raked through his hair as his hands roamed my body, touching and stroking everywhere that felt good. His hips settled between mine, fully clothed as we kissed and groped, like we really were two desperate teenagers sneaking up to Makeout Point past curfew.

His lips slowed against mine until the kiss softened into something quieter—less heat, more ache. With a sigh, he rested his forehead against mine, breath mingling in the sliver of space between us.

“I keep wondering what it would’ve been like,” he said, voice low and gravely, “if I’d done this 20 years ago. If I’d realized how amazing you were and swooped you up before you even met Ryan.”

My heart thumped, sudden and sharp. “And?”

Beckett exhaled through his nose, rolling to the side and bringing me with him, eyes fixed on the night sky above.

“And I would’ve screwed it up. I was a mess after my dad died. A huge part of me was glad he was gone. Like… at least all the pain his addiction caused was over. He couldn’t berate Mo m anymore. He couldn’t hurt us with his silence. He couldn’t ruin the good stuff just by existing in the room.”

He swallowed hard. “But then I’d think—what kind of son feels relief when his dad dies?”

I ran a hand across his chest, remembering that night all too well. “I don’t think that makes you shitty. He hurt you. And he couldn’t anymore.”

Beckett leaned his head against mine. “It wasn’t all bad. When I was little, when he worked the mill, things were okay. But after it shut down… he just gave up. Crawled inside a bottle and dragged us all down with him.”

“I’m so sorry.” I snuggled closer, hating the weight in his voice. “I bet making Juniors after he died felt like a kind of freedom.”

He let out a bitter laugh, arms tightening around me. “It was. I left and never looked back. I’ve spent over 20 years running, afraid that if I came home, the only things waiting for me would be ghosts.”

“Are they?” I asked, my voice quiet.

He shook his head. “No. I don’t see him anymore.

I see Mom. I see Ty and Mason and me on the pond, freezing our asses off until our fingers didn’t work.

I see Coach believing in me when I couldn’t even look in the mirror.

At 16, all I could feel was the bad. But now?

Now I see everything I walked away from. Everything I missed.”

His words settled over me, heavy and honest.

After a moment, I whispered, “I don’t know if we’d have made it work back then.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I think about that too.”

I let out a breath, my chest tight. “Back then, I was na?ve. A little too brave. Not broken yet, but also… not me. Some days I’m still figuring out who that is .”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, smoothing back the fly-aways. “And if you’d never met Ryan, Jace wouldn’t exist.”

That landed like a stone between us.

I nodded, grateful he understood. “Even knowing everything I know now—I’d still go through it all again if it meant I got him. Every heartbreak. Every mistake. He’s worth it.” Tears welled at the edges of my eyes, but I didn’t blink them away. “He’s worth everything .”

Beckett leaned in and kissed me again, thumb trailing across my cheek to wipe away the tears. “Absolutely, he is.”

We lay there in silence for a few moments, tucked under layers of flannel and starlight, snowflakes drifting slow and soft past the open tailgate like the universe had decided to take its time.

“I thought you were bringing me up here to have sex,” I said, and Beckett’s chest shook underneath my cheek.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no. But this is pretty perfect, if you ask me.”

“Careful, Conway,” I murmured. “That almost sounded romantic.”

“I can do romantic.” He tugged me closer. “I just needed the inspiration. Needed to find the girl I wanted badly enough to sweep her off her feet.”

“Well.” I leaned up until our noses bumped. “Consider me swept.”

He kissed me again, slow and sure and full of promise.

The drive back into town was quiet, music drifting through the car as Beckett wove his way back toward my house, our fingers intertwined on the center console. My heart was still humming to the rhythm of Beckett’s kiss, the intimacy of tonight seeming so much more than just sex.

Too soon, we were back outside my house, staring at the blue siding and the little porch light. Beckett lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “See you in the morning.”

I nodded, the smile on my face feeling damn near permanent at this point. “Bright and early.”

Snow crunched under my boots as I hurried up the front steps, only then realizing I forgot to ask him to stop for coffee creamer.

I cracked the front door open, hoping that Jace had gone to bed already. But no such luck.

He was still on the couch, legs up, controller in hand, the same battle game lighting up the TV screen. His head swiveled toward me the second the door shut behind me.

I froze like I’d just been caught sneaking in from Makeout Point, which was ridiculous because he was the teen, and I was the mother in this equation, even though that was exactly what was happening.

Jace raised an eyebrow. “So, where’s the coffee creamer?”

I stared at him for a half-second too long, then slid my boots off. “They were out,” I blurted. “All out. Not a drop of dairy in the whole place. Even the half-and-half was expired. Total cream crisis. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

He squinted. “You were gone for over an hour.”

“You wouldn’t believe how packed the store was.” I bent to put my boots under the bench, then went to the stairs. “That post-game rush, you know? And then the dairy shortage just made it worse.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with that same skepticism .

“Anyway.” I flicked off the living room lights, washing us both in darkness aside from the TV, hoping it hid the blush creeping up my cheeks. “I’m going to bed. You should, too. Practice tomorrow?”

“I practice every morning.”

“And that’s why you should go to bed.”

As I reached the landing, I heard him mutter, “Man, she’s weird.”

I closed the bedroom door, leaned against it with a dopey smile, and tried my best not to relive every second of those kisses under the stars.

Tried, and failed spectacularly.