Page 44 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

“Emmy, did you remember the chips?” she asked as the door closed behind her.

“Did I remember chips,” I mocked her, pulling two bags of tortilla chips off the top of the cubbies. “What a question.”

“I’m confused what queso and Pilates have to do with each other.” Tate sat on the first reformer behind me, her long red hair tied up in a ponytail. She was decked out in leggings, a Mayhem hoodie, and grip socks.

Shannon didn’t even look up as she plugged in the blender. “You’re assuming there has to be a connection. That’s adorable.”

“It’s called balance.” I opened the chips with a satisfying crack. “Health and cheese can coexist.”

“They must,” Stevie said solemnly, stirring the contents of the Crockpot. “It’s a cornerstone of the Moms of Mayhem. Our motto, if you will.”

Tate blinked. “So, this is just… what, queso night?”

Shannon raised a brow. “Did you think we were going to do planks while discussing our feelings?”

“I did bring my water bottle,” Tate muttered.

“That’s so cute,” Shannon said. “You’re hydrated and full of hope. You’ll fit right in with these two.”

Stevie snorted, then dipped a chip into the queso. “Give her a break. She’s new.”

“I’m not new,” Tate said. “I’ve known Emmy since I was a kid. I’m just selectively social.”

I grinned as I put a few new toys in the playpen for Harper. “Well, I’m flattered to have made the selection, then. We’re fun, I promise. I roped Stevie in with margaritas and moral support, and look at us now.”

“I make a good margarita.” Shannon poured the blender contents into mason jars. “And by good, I mean you will be admitting your deepest, darkest secrets by the time you leave.”

“I’m breastfeeding.” Stevie held up a hand. “So, I’ll just have two.”

We all laughed, and even Tate cracked a smile as she took a cautious sip from the jar Shannon handed her.

“Oh.” She blinked. “That’s… wow.”

“Right?” I flopped onto a reformer and stole a chip. “Hits like a puck to the ribs.”

Stevie pointed at me with the chip bag. “I’m going to add that to my Yelp review about your studio.”

“I think you’re supposed to actually take a class before leaving a review.” Shannon climbed over the playpen fence to sit down with Harper. “Sleeping through them doesn’t count.”

Tate looked around at all of us—the mess of snacks, the baby babbling, the blend of sarcasm and soft friendship—and her shoulders relaxed. “Okay, I get it now.”

“Good.” Stevie scooped up queso with a chip, hand hovered under it as she brought it to her mouth. “Now tell us what the deal was with Mason Conway proposing to you at the rink a few weeks ago.”

“He’s still doing that?” Shannon said from the back of the room, her mouth full of chips.

“Oh, this is an ongoing thing.” Stevie rested her chin on her fist, one leg crossed over the other. “I forget you’re all locals, so give me the gossip. Tell me the story.”

I laid down on the reformer next to Tate, putting my feet on the bar, and slowly pushing the shuttle away. Tate took the subtle invitation and did the same.

“Nothing to tell, really,” she said, sliding back and forth on the reformer. “I’ve known him my whole life. He used to do it for attention in high school, just to make everyone laugh. It’s not like it means anything. He’s not serious.”

Shannon let out a sharp laugh, and I leaned across the reformer to help Tate move into the next stretch. She did what I said, but Stevie wasn’t going to let this drop.

“So, nothing’s ever happened between you two?” She took a sip of her mason jar, then shook her head as it went down. “Shit, Shannon. You driving me home tonight?”

“Well, you know I’m not letting you drive if you drink those.” Shannon looked down at Harper. “What do you think, Harper? Should I drive you and Mommy home?”

Harper clapped her little hands on either side of Shannon’s face, then leaned in to give her a sloppy kiss.

Sensing Tate’s distress over discussing Mason, I switched gears. “Beckett took me to Elkhorn Point on Friday night.”

Tate’s movements stuttered, and her head swiveled over to look at me. “I didn’t know anyone still went up there.”

“Who cares where you went,” Stevie said through a mouthful of cheese, then pointed a chip at Tate. “They’re fucking, by the way. She’s adorable. He’s hot as hell. It’s great for all of us.”

A laugh ripped out of me, and I sat up on the reformer. “How is my sex life great for you?”

“Are you kidding me?” Stevie wiped at her chin with the edge of her T-shirt.

“You’re so happy, it’s making me happy. And every time you tell me about it, I want to bang my husband.

Luke is so happy with this turn of events, he started doing the laundry .

He’s making breakfast. He fixed the hole in the wall that’s been there since Wyatt decided to attempt a slap shot in the kitchen.

He even got a babysitter for Valentine’s Day. ”

“It’s me.” Shannon raised her hand in the air. “I’m the sitter, since your new sex life has not, in fact, helped me. Tate, are you single?”

Tate looked Shannon’s way, her brow scrunched. “Yes, but I am unfortunately attracted to men.”

Shannon let out a dramatic sigh and collapsed on the padded mats like she’d just taken a hit to the chest. “God, same. Being straight is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I grinned as I refilled Shannon’s bowl of queso. “That’s bold coming from someone who tore their ACL doing karaoke.”

“I stand by it,” Shannon said, dunking a chip. “Men are exhausting. Knees heal.”

Stevie snorted. “So, what you're saying is, if you could choose, you’d be a lesbian?”

“Fuck yeah. If I could get a cute wife, a baby like Harper, and someone to take out the trash, I’d switch teams faster than you can say Subaru.”

Tate choked on her sip, coughing into her hoodie sleeve.

I laid back on my mat, giggling like I was a teenager again. This right here—this weird, lactose-fueled estrogen bubble of oversharing and laughing until your abs hurt—this was something I hadn’t known I’d needed until it became the best part of my week.

Harper let out a squeal from the playpen, taking a mini hockey stick to a foam puck like she was gunning for a starting spot on the Mayhem.

Shannon raised her Diet Coke. “To you lovesick idiots.”

“To babysitters who make it possible,” Stevie added.

I raised my mason jar. “To my gut. May it someday recover from all this cheese.”

After a beat, Tate held hers up too. “To not hating this.”

We all looked at her.

She blinked, surprised by her own admission. “I mean. This might be the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s kind of nice.”

“Careful,” Shannon said. “You’re one margarita away from a friendship bracelet with these two.”

“I love friendship bracelets,” Stevie said. “Should we braid them or use beads?”

I clinked my jar against hers. “Definitely beads.”

Everyone left an hour later, and I grabbed my sage green sweatshirt, turning off the last of the lights and shutting down the computer at the front desk. The studio was quiet now, still warm from laughter and body heat, smelling faintly of disinfectant and limes.

I stepped outside and pulled my hands inside the sleeves. Streetlights lined the road, their glow pooling in soft halos over the pavement. A dusting of fresh snow made the world feel tucked in, like the town itself had pulled up a blanket and gone to bed.

I loved it here—this little town, this stretch of street, this new rhythm of my life that had crept in so quietly, I hadn’t realized how much it had started to feel like mine again.

The cold bit at my cheeks as I stepped onto the salted sidewalk, each step scraping softly beneath my boots. The headlights flashed when I clicked the keys, revealing Beckett leaning against the hood.

His hands were tucked into his coat pockets, hood up, head down like he was just casually hanging out in 20-degree weather. When my gaze met his, my heart did that fluttering thing it always did around him.

He straightened up as I reached him. “I was wondering how long queso night would go.” My breath fogged as a laugh squeaked out past my lips. “You knew it was queso night?”

“Stevie texted me a picture of Harper trying to eat a chip with her whole face.” He shrugged. “Told me I should wait around.”

I stepped closer, leaning into his chest. His arms looped around my back, holding me in place. “What if I hadn’t come out for another hour? ”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “Then I would’ve had some alone time with your windshield wipers.”

I laughed, too tired to pretend I didn’t like this. Like him.

“What are you doing here, Beckett?”

His mouth dropped to hover over mine. “Can’t stop thinking about this little mouth, so I figured it was time to kidnap you again. Seems that’s the only way either of us has any time.”

His lips touched down on mine, once, twice, and I sank into his hold, not caring that we stood in the middle of the sidewalk.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he had nowhere to be and nothing else to do except memorize the way I tasted. Like we hadn’t done this earlier today.

His hands slid up my back, under the edges of my coat, fingers splayed wide like he needed to anchor himself. I felt it everywhere—his breath, his warmth, the way he kissed like he missed me even though we saw each other hours ago.

God, this man could kiss.

When we finally came up for air, I rested my forehead against his chest, trying to remember my name. Then a thought slid through the fog in my brain, sharp enough to cut through the heat of the moment.

“Wait.” I pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Where’s Jace?”

Beckett blinked, then smiled. “Relax. He’s at Ty’s working on some physics project. Something about medieval siege weapons? They’re in full MacGyver mode. I texted Ty before I came here—he said he’d keep him as long as we want.”

I raised an eyebrow. “As long as we want, huh? ”

He smirked. “We’ll test the limits of that later. For now…” He glanced down the quiet street, then back at me. “Come with me. I want to skate.”

“Skate?”

He nodded, suddenly a little sheepish. “Doc cleared me this afternoon. First time back on the ice since surgery. I’m nervous as hell.”

My heart thudded with something more than just affection—pride, awe, that soft ache that came from watching someone try hard things. And then more than a little panic that we’d reached this next milestone so fast.

“And you want me there?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course I want you there.” He kissed my knuckles, then opened the car door for me. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

I stared at him for a beat, then grinned. “My skates are in the garage at home.”

“No, they’re not.” Beckett opened his truck door parked next to mine and held up the hockey skates I’d had since high school. “I already got them for you.”

It was the smallest gesture, but the fact he’d thought this through ahead of time, planning to spend this moment with me, made me melt.

He tucked me into my car, then got into his truck, driving down the winding mountain streets to his house. Several trees around the pond were lit up with twinkle lights, and a soft glow came from inside.

Beckett opened my car door as soon as I parked, handing me a vest to put over my sweatshirt. My skates were slung over his shoulder, and his hand grabbed mine, tugging me into his chest for another kiss .

“I can do this, right?” he said, his voice far less cocky than his normal tone.

I reached up and smoothed a hand across his brow, easing the little crease forming there. “You absolutely can do this. The doctors think you’re ready, and I think you’re ready. And my phone is fully charged, so I can call 911 when we’re wrong.”

Beckett chuckled, his smile wide and shining bright in the moonlight. He dropped his forehead to mine, and for a long second, we just stood there, breathing in the quiet night.

He kissed me again, gentle and lingering, before pulling back. “If I fall and break something, promise you’ll kiss it better.”

“Only if it’s entertaining,” I teased. “Bonus points if I catch it on camera.”

We walked the short path to the pond together, boots sinking into the new snow.

The lights strung through the trees reflected on the ice, dancing across its smooth surface in shimmering patches.

It was beautiful. Quiet. Like the whole world had taken a deep breath and let us have this moment to ourselves.

We sat down on the stumps near the pond to lace up. Beckett’s fingers moved slower than usual as he tightened his skates. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he flexed his leg, testing its strength before even touching the ice.

“You good?” I nudged his knee with mine.

“Guess we’re about to find out.” He blew out a breath. “This is the longest I’ve ever been off skates since I was four. Feels weird.”

“Well, I haven’t sharpened mine in five years, and I think one of my ankles is weaker than the other, so we can be weird together.”

He grinned and stood, wobbling only slightly. I stood too, offering my hand. “Ready?”

Beckett nodded, then stepped onto the pond.

It wasn’t graceful—not at first. His legs adjusted slow, his balance off by just a hair. But he moved, gliding forward a few feet, then stopping with a low, controlled turn. His eyes lit up with something I hadn’t seen in weeks.

Not just relief. Not just joy.

Something deeper. Like he’d just remembered who he was.

He turned back to me and held out his hand. “Come on, Peach. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I took it and stepped onto the ice, skating toward him with steady strides.

“You’re not bad,” he said, his voice full of wonder as we found a rhythm, skating side by side.

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m impressed.”

“You should be. I was unstoppable in gym class.”

He laughed and skated ahead, doing a few laps before coming back to my side.

We skated like that for a long while, until our breaths puffed out in white clouds and my toes started to ache from the cold. I didn’t care. Not even a little. I felt like a teenager again, heart racing, cheeks flushed, falling in love under a winter sky.

At one point, Beckett grabbed my hand and pulled me in close, our bodies still moving as he wrapped his arms around my waist .

“I missed this,” he said quietly. “The ice. The cold. The way it shuts the world up for a while.”

I nodded, resting my head against his shoulder. “I get that.”

And I did understand. But as his lips touched down on my forehead, I realized I’d miss this. This exact moment. This quiet, stolen piece of something that already felt fleeting.

Because when he had to go back to Denver, how would I ever say goodbye?