Page 45 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

Skating with Emmy was supposed to be just another PT milestone.

A box to check, nothing more. But sharing that frozen pond with her cracked something open in me.

How she smiled when I helped her lace her skates.

How her laugh echoed across the ice. How she fit against me like we’d been built to glide through life side by side.

It was supposed to be rehab, not a revelation.

By the time we got back to the driveway, emotions were running higher than I expected. My chest was tight with everything I couldn’t say, everything I felt. It had been days of tension, of almosts and unfinished moments. And now—now I couldn’t wait another damn second.

When she looked up at me with wind-chilled cheeks and kiss-bitten lips, I needed her. Right there. I needed her like breath, like gravity, like something primal I’d kept locked away too long.

I walked toward my truck, opened the back door, and climbed in. She followed without a word.

The doors shut. The world faded .

She climbed into my lap and her mouth crashed into mine like we’d been holding back for weeks, not days. Fingers hooked in the hem of my hoodie, her body pressing against mine with this desperate urgency that had my control unraveling by the second.

I unzipped her vest, then pushed up the sweatshirt, savoring the sound she made when I cupped her breasts.

“I think about this all the time,” I murmured against her neck, tongue dragging along her pulse point. “You. Right here. Just like this.”

“Yeah?” Her breath hitched when I pinched her nipple, head falling back. “You think about me in your fancy truck?”

“Fuck yes, I do.”

She let out a breathy laugh, just before gasping when I lifted her, settling her across the back seat. Her leggings slid down easy, and I took my time pressing kisses along her chilled skin, pushing her thighs apart.

“I think about how you sound.” My voice dropped. “How you taste. How perfect your body feels wrapped around me.”

She reached down, popping the button on my jeans. “Then shut up andfuck me already.”

I slid her underwear to the side, running a thumb over her slick heat. “So wet for me already. You been thinking about this too?”

“After you said you wanted to fuck me against the wall this morning?” she said, breathless. “God, yes. Now do something about it.”

I groaned and grabbed the condom from my pocket, sliding it over my length. Not wasting any time, I lined up, pushing into her slow and deep. Her whole body arched, one hand slapping the fogged-up window, the other dragging me closer.

“Fuck, Peach,” I bit out. “You feel so fucking good. So tight—goddamn.”

“Harder,” she whispered. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Oh, I want you to beg,” I growled, pulling back before slamming into her again. “Want to hear you say how bad you want this. Want me .”

“I do,” she gasped. “Want this. Want you— don’t stop .”

I couldn’t have stopped if I tried.

She clenched around me, thighs trembling, breath coming fast. Her name was a prayer on my tongue, and I worshipped every inch of her—quick and dirty and soaked in the kind of need that came from never having enough time.

But I was starting to think no amount of time would ever be enough.

“Come with me,” she begged, eyes locking with mine. “Please, Beckett—right now.”

And I did.

We shattered together, her body tightening around mine, my voice lost in the curve of her neck.

I stayed wrapped around her for a long moment, forehead pressed to hers, heartbeat finally slowing.

“Not exactly how I pictured it,” I muttered, trying to shift so I wasn’t crushing her. “You deserve better than ten minutes in the backseat of my truck.”

She smiled, still breathless. “I’m not complaining.”

I kissed her, slower this time, softer.

“I’ll give you better next time,” I whispered. “Promise.”

She nuzzled into my chest with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll hold you to that.”

And for a second, I let myself pretend I could keep her here forever. That this wasn’t going to change when I went back to Denver soon.

She dressed slowly, with the kind of ease that made my pulse pick back up despite everything we’d just done. I helped her pull her vest on, kissed her one more time—lazy and soft, like neither of us wanted to leave this little bubble we’d created in the dark.

Then she slipped out of the truck with a whispered see you later, fingers brushing mine before she pulled away completely.

I stayed in the backseat, watching her taillights disappear down the road, my body still buzzing, my heart still lodged somewhere between holy shit and please don’t go .

When I finally climbed out and shut the truck door behind me, the night felt colder than it had before.

The house was dark when I stepped inside. Mom had gone to bed, lights off in her room. The only sound was the soft hum of the fridge and the creak of the floor under my feet.

I stood there in the kitchen for a long time, coat still on, Emmy’s taste still on my lips, and the ache of her body burned into mine.

And all I could think was, how the hell am I supposed to leave this?

Not just the house. Not the town.

Her.

That stupid hoodie she stole. The way Jace looked at me when something finally clicked in practice. Ty pretending he wasn’t obsessed with coaching. Mom delighted with a full house around her.

All of it .

I’d left Linwood once, sure it was the right thing. The only way to become who I was supposed to be.

But now?

Now it felt like the best parts of me had stayed behind.

If Denver called tomorrow, I had no idea how I was going to walk away from this without tearing myself in half.

The heater clicked on with a low hum, and somewhere down the hall, the pipes groaned like the place was exhaling right along with me.

I stared at the island where our practice plans still lay scattered, next to a wrinkled Gatorade label and the pen Ty kept forgetting to take with him.

I didn’t touch anything. Didn’t move. Just stood there, soaking in the quiet and the weight of it all.

Eventually, I shut off the hallway light, hung up my coat, and headed to bed.

Sleep didn’t come easy.

The next morning, I rolled over and blinked against the pale blue light leaking through my bedroom blinds. Jace had a test at school this morning, so Emmy insisted he skip morning practice. I’d slept in for the first time in two months, but rather than being relaxing, it was just weird.

Twelve weeks post-op, and I felt damn good.

Stronger. Looser. My stride was longer, my balance better. Still some stiffness in the mornings—and after a night spent with Emmy—but I’d never tell her that.

Once I got moving, I could almost forget what I’d been through.

Frankie was thrilled I was ahead of schedule. The graft was holding beautifully, my range of motion was right where it should be, and the muscle tone in my hip flexors had come back quicker than expected thanks to Emmy’s help.

I wasn’t cleared for contact yet, but skating drills were back on the table, and the real stuff wasn’t far off.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a second, bare feet on the cold wood floor, then reached for a hoodie off the top of my dresser. I pulled it on, grabbed my keys, and slung my gym bag over my shoulder.

Emmy would be waiting at the studio, clipboard in hand, hair up, smirk locked and loaded. And I couldn’t wait to kiss the smile off her face.

I was about to lock up when a dark SUV turned into the drive. The doors opened, and two familiar figures stepped out.

“Of course,” I muttered under my breath, grinning as they came into view.

Mikko Laaksonen, the Yeti’s star defenseman and one of my best friends, shut the passenger door with a lazy thud. He had sharp Scandinavian cheekbones and short dark blond hair, complete with a look that said he’d rather be anywhere but suburban Colorado. “This house looks like a retirement home.”

“I mean, he is old,” said the guy next to him, tall and broad and unmistakably Canadian in the way he wore sandals despite the snow on the ground. Logan Parrish, full-time forward and occasional chaos goblin.

“Logan. Mikko,” I said, stepping off the porch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Logan grinned. “Road trip, baby. Frankie said you were starting to skate again. With the Olympic break, he said we should come check up on you. ”

Mikko rolled his eyes. “ Frankie said. Like this wasn’t your idea.”

“You think the Yeti can survive without all three brain cells present? We’re the holy trinity of shift changes and miracle goals.”

I laughed and shook my head, letting them both in for a quick slap on the back. “You couldn’t have texted?”

“And ruin the surprise?” Logan smirked. “Never.”

Mikko just sighed. “I told him to text.”

I shook my head again, heart lighter than it had been in weeks. With everything going on here in Linwood, I’d dismissed how much I missed my teammates.

“Where are you headed?” Logan pointed at my gym bag, then the keys in my hand. “To see this hot PT Frankie says you drool over?”

Mikko raised an eyebrow. “Is this the same one who made our starting winger cry during hip mobility drills?”

I sighed. “Her name’s Emmy. I do not drool. And I only cried once.”

“Sure, bud,” Logan said, already heading my truck. “We’re coming. I gotta see this for myself.”

“You’re serious?”

Mikko shrugged. “I didn’t drive over Vail Pass to sit in your kitchen and talk about our feelings. Let’s go.”

“Fine.” I unlocked my truck, trying not to think about last night. “But get changed. If Emmy sees you standing around, she’ll rope you into Pilates, and I’m not saving you.”

Logan grinned. “How hard can it be?”

I just laughed. “Tell that to your hamstrings when you’re crying next to the senior citizens.”

Mikko muttered something in Finnish that probably translated to how much he hated us both .

We got in the truck, and I pulled out of the drive, answering questions about my mom, Ty, and the Mayhem. I did my best to dodge questions about Emmy, but the more I avoided the topic, the more they badgered me.