Page 47 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

She opened the door before I could say anything else and slid out of the truck, not looking at any of us. Not even when Logan leaned forward like he might say something.

The wind caught her hoodie as she walked, making her look smaller than she already was. She didn’t glance back. Just marched toward the trailer with that same stubborn spine I’d seen in the studio a dozen times.

Logan let out a long breath. “Jesus.”

Mikko watched in silence, eyes narrowed. Not judging. Just seeing.

“She doesn’t need your sympathy,” I said, more to myself than them. “Just space.”

Logan nodded slowly. “Yeah. But it sure looks like she’s running out of that too.”

Shannon was halfway up the walk when the screen door banged open. Ray stumbled out onto the porch, one arm braced on the frame, a half-empty bottle clutched in the other. Even from the truck, we could hear her dad, slurred, loud, and mean.

“Where the hell you been, girl? You think you can come and go like you pay bills around here?” he barked, voice cracking at the edges.

“I do pay the bills.”

“Don’t you sass me. I needed a ride to the goddamn store hours ago! You think you’re better than this family now? That it?”

Shannon flinched but didn’t stop. Just kept walking like she could walk through it. Like if she didn’t react, maybe it wouldn’t count.

The man kept going, insulting her hair, her clothes, even gesturing at the truck when he called her a whore. All of it was spat so loud, we heard every single poisonous thing he said.

Mikko’s door opened without a word.

He stepped out, calm and controlled. But I saw the tightness in his jaw, the way his fists curled. His eyes were locked on Shannon’s dad like he already had a target.

“Mikko—” I said.

Too late. He was already moving.

Logan cursed under his breath and scrambled out after him. “Nope. Nope, nope. We are not making the news today.”

I was right behind them.

Mikko picked up speed, long strides chewing up the frozen ground between the road and the porch. Logan reached him first, grabbing his arm, but it was like trying to stop a tank.

“We can’t deck a drunk guy on his own porch. That’s a lawsuit. That’s jail time.”

Mikko didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

I came around the other side and stepped between him and the path. “Hey. Look at me.”

Nothing. Just that icy focus he got when something snapped. I’d seen it on the ice more than once, usually right before he dropped gloves and broke a man’s nose.

“Mikko,” I said again, firmer now. “This isn’t your fight.”

His eyes flicked to me, barely a second of hesitation, but it was enough.

Behind him, Shannon’s dad shouted something so nasty and venom-laced I felt it in my spine. She walked past him and went inside, her shoulders stiff, her head still down.

“Goddamn ungrateful brat,” the man muttered, then seemed to realize three men stood on his driveway.

Mikko’s hands were still clenched. Logan looked ready to tackle him if he took another step.

“Well, if it isn’t Beckett Conway,” Ray said, his words slurred. “I heard you were back but figured it couldn’t be true. No way would Linwood’s little favorite return, not even for his sick mother. Your dad was right to always be ashamed of you. Wasn’t even sure you were his kid.”

Ray stumbled, then grabbed the porch railing for balance. While my dad had never been kind, alcohol made him more indifferent than mean. Ray though, he was just as mean as I remembered.

He swayed slightly, shoulders hunched like the weight of his own bitterness was eating him alive.

His words came out thick with alcohol and venom.

“Nothing to say, Beckett? Thought you big-time NHL types didn’t take shit from anyone.

Or maybe you’re still just that useless little bastard who ran off when things got hard. ”

I stepped up onto the porch, the wood creaking under my shoes. Ray didn’t back away, but he didn’t meet my eyes either. Cowards never did.

I got close enough to smell the booze on his breath. “You want to run your mouth at me, go ahead. But if you ever talk to Shannon like that again, I swear to God, I’ll bury what’s left of you in that barn and burn it to the ground.”

Ray scoffed, eyes flicking up just long enough to catch the fury in mine.

“I’ll press charges,” he muttered, puffing up again. “You so much as touch me, I’ll ruin you.”

I took another half-step closer, and he flinched. “You’ve ruined enough already, I think.”

Behind me, footsteps crunched over the snow-covered gravel. Mikko walked past, cool and quiet, like a shadow with purpose. He stopped just at the base of the steps and looked up toward the screen door.

“Shannon,” he yelled, and the curtains over the nearby window pulled apart, Shannon’s face behind the dirty glass. “Get in the truck. ”

She stood frozen, gaze looking back and forth between her dad and us.

Ray spun toward her. “Don’t you move, girl. Don’t you dare?—”

“Get in the truck,” Mikko repeated, eyes never leaving hers.

Shannon stared at him for a second. Then she disappeared from sight, and the screen door pushed open again. With steady steps, she walked past Ray, past all of us. Head up. No looking back.

She climbed into the truck and shut the door behind her.

Ray turned back toward me, mouth twisted like he still had something to say, but I wasn’t interested anymore.

“You can finish that bottle or throw it through a window for all I care,” I said. “But next time you want to tear someone down, you better hope I’m not in earshot.”

I turned and walked off the porch without another word. None of us looked back. We got in the truck, and we drove.