Page 48 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

The drive back to my mom’s house was silent, like everyone was trying to figure out what to say and deciding against it.

Shannon leaned against the window in the front seat, hood still up, her legs pulled up on the cushion like she was trying to make herself smaller.

Mikko stared straight ahead, arms crossed over his chest. Logan fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve like he was trying to unhear everything that had just gone down.

I kept my eyes on the road, familiar turns blurring past.

After seeing the ruins of the Wilder Family Farm, I couldn’t help but appreciate mom’s house. The blue paint was peeling in spots, but it was cheerful. A wreath hung on the front door, and it looked like a home.

I couldn’t help thinking about what it would’ve looked like if my dad had lived. If I’d grown up with the kind of love that broke instead of built. I didn’t have a perfect childhood, but Mason and Mom were as good as it got. We were a trio, as solid as they came, even before Dad passed away.

In comparison, Shannon’s life was just as broken as the house she lived in, and I hated that for her. I needed to help, but I knew her well enough to know she’d shut down anything she saw as charity.

The truck rolled to a stop in the drive. Mikko and Logan climbed out without a word, the doors shutting softly behind them.

I didn’t move. Not yet.

I turned a little in my seat to glance back. “Shannon.”

Her hood still covered most of her face, but I caught the flick of her eyes in my direction.

“How long has it been this bad?”

“None of your business.”

I nodded, but didn’t let her shove me away yet. “Come inside.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“Because Mom is standing at the window and can see you in the truck. She doesn’t get out as much anymore, and if you leave without saying hi, she might cry.”

Shannon didn’t smile, not really—but her mouth twitched like she wanted to. Her arms were still crossed tight over her chest.

“You don’t have to stay long,” I said. “But she’ll be delighted to see you, and furious if you don’t at least wave. You know how much she’s always loved you.”

It was true—Lori had doted on Shannon since we were kids, back when our families used to spend holidays together, back before the sharp edges of our dads’ drinking started slicing everything up.

Lori never had a daughter, but if she could have picked one, it would’ve been Shannon.

I wasn’t sure what their relationship had been like after I left, but I was positive my mom would welcome her with open arms .

Shannon hesitated, like she was doing the mental math of risk versus reward.

Eventually, she let out a quiet sigh and opened the door.

“Five minutes,” she muttered.

“Deal.”

We walked up to the house, and I opened the front door to the smell of something warm and cinnamon-sweet baking in the oven, a plan crafting in my mind that would solve two problems at once.

Mom stood just inside the door, one hand on the railing we’d installed there and the other held up for a hug. “I thought that was you, Shannon! Oh, my sweet girl, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Sweet?” Logan mouthed behind them, pointing at Shannon.

I just grinned, watching Shannon sink into my mom’s hold. They hugged for far longer than I expected, like Mom knew exactly how much she needed it. Hell, maybe she did.

“You’re staying for brunch?” she said when they finally pulled away. “Beckett won’t let me cook anymore, but I can still put cinnamon rolls in the oven.”

“Mom.” I rubbed a hand over the creases in my brow. “Do you not remember this exact conversation at the doctor’s this week? They don’t want you trying to take anything hot in or out of the oven. You should have just waited.”

“Well, hurry, then.” She waved her hand toward the kitchen, and Shannon chuckled, walking into the kitchen like she still remembered exactly where everything was.

Once we’d all descended on the spread of food Mom set on the counter, everyone moved to the table.

She’d met Logan and Mikko several times over the years, and like the angel she was, remembered everything about them.

Even if her hands shook, her mind was still intact.

Her doctors had warned me that dementia was probably in our near future, but not yet.

The entire time, she held Shannon’s hand, and surprisingly, Shannon let her. Emmy’s friend was quieter than I’d heard her since my return, but I couldn’t imagine how fast her mind was racing, trying to figure out next steps.

“Mom,” I said when the conversation lulled. “You can’t just keep denying every single applicant for in-home care I give you.”

Mom’s exhale was long and exaggerated. “I’m not denying them. I’m filtering .”

“Filtering?” I deadpanned.

She lifted her chin. “I didn’t like the way that first one smelled like tuna salad.”

Mikko stifled a laugh behind his napkin. Logan didn’t bother trying to hide his.

“And the second one?”

“She said ‘no cap’.” Mom grimaced, like the phrase had physically offended her. “I don’t even know what that means. That’s not someone I want in my house.”

Logan muttered, “Harsh,” around a bite of cinnamon roll.

“And the one after that,” I prompted, knowing full well what she’d say.

“She wore Crocs. In a snowstorm. They had holes, Beckett. Holes .”

Shannon choked on her orange juice.

I gave my mother the most exhausted look I could manage. “So, to recap: you’ve rejected one person for smelling like sandwiches, one for using slang, and one for bad shoe choices.”

“Exactly.”

“Mom, you don’t have to love them. You just need someone here who can help you cook, drive you to appointments, and make sure you’re taking your meds.”

She scoffed. “And live in my house. And touch my things.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Shannon’s brow crease.

Then, soft but clear, she said, “What exactly are you looking for?”

Everyone stilled.

Mom turned toward her, surprised. “Are you interested? Please, tell me you’re interested. You don’t smell weird and are smart enough to use proper grammar.”

I bit back my grin, afraid to do anything that made this seem anything but organic so Shannon wouldn’t run.

I leaned forward, grateful she hadn’t already bolted.

“She needs help with meals, getting to and from appointments, and the occasional pill reminder. Otherwise, she’s still pretty independent.

Just not supposed to be living alone anymore and I have to go back to Denver soon.

The job comes with room and board plus a weekly stipend.

Mason bought her a car too, so you can use that. ”

Shannon blinked. “What about my school schedule? I can still do that?”

“Absolutely,” I said quickly. “And work at the studio if you want. We just need someone consistent. Someone she trusts. And you clearly already have that.”

Mom beamed at this new idea, wrinkles framing her big smile.

Shannon still looked wary. “What’s the stipend? ”

I hesitated for just a second. “$700 a week.”

Her jaw dropped. “That’s—what? Almost three grand a month.”

“Three thousand,” I confirmed. “Flat. Plus, no rent, no utilities, and you can buy your groceries on my card when you get hers. I’ll give you another couple grand as a signing bonus to get whatever you want for your room.

New clothes, or whatever you need for the next semester. However you want to spend it.”

She sat back, looking like she’d just been hit in the face with a cinnamon roll.

Mikko shifted beside her, watching her reaction like a hawk. Logan was wide-eyed, halfway through a second roll and looking like he’d take the job himself if she didn’t.

Shannon blinked down at her lap. “I mean, yeah. Yeah, okay. I could do that. If you’re sure.”

Mom lit up like Christmas morning, grabbing Shannon’s hand again. “Oh, I’m very sure. Can you move in today? I need some girl power in this house of boys.”

Shannon swallowed hard, and for a second, I thought she might cry. But she just nodded and squeezed Mom’s hand back.

I leaned back in my chair, satisfaction settling in deep. Two problems solved and a safe home for both of them.

Mikko met my eyes, giving me the briefest nod of approval.

We finished the meal, topic shifting to tonight’s Mayhem practice and how excited the guys were to meet the team.

My first time out on the Linwood Rink ice was more exciting than I had anticipated.

The cold hit me the second I stepped onto the ice, familiar and comforting.

I’d spent the afternoon sneaking in as much ice time as I could on the pond, out of sight in case I embarrassed myself.

The ache in my hip was barely a murmur, drowned out by the thrill of movement as I glided toward center.

Ty was already out there stretching, his stick tapping lightly against the boards. He gave me a lazy grin. “Took you long enough. I thought you young folk were supposed to be spry.”

I shot him a look. “You’re four months older than me.”

“Which makes you the baby.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to know about your diaper rash though. That’s a you problem.”

Before I could come up with a good comeback, the doors at the far end of the rink opened, and a wave of noise came pouring out—sticks clattering, voices yelling, laughter echoing through the arena.

“Conway!” Molly was the first one on the ice, helmet unclipped, braid swinging. “Are the rumors true? You’re not just here to stand around looking pretty today?”

Delgado followed, adjusting his elbow pads. “You cleared to skate or just ignoring doctor’s orders?”

“Can’t be both?” I called, grinning as I started toward them.

Jace was right behind them, eyes flicking to my stride like he was assessing me. “How’s the hip?”

“Good enough,” I said. “You going to take it easy on me, Juice?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so. ”

Miles skated out last, his helmet tucked under one arm. “I was told there’d be blood today.”

“Relax, psycho,” Ty called. “It’s a skills skate, not the Octagon.”

Jace skated a slow lap around me, then stopped, eyebrows raised. “You sure you’re not going to embarrass yourself?”

“Not planning on it,” I said.

“That’s what old people say before they break a hip,” Delgado chimed in.

I gave him a deadpan look. “You’re, what, five foot seven?”

“Five nine and a half ,” he shot back.

“With skates on,” Molly added under her breath.

The chirping continued, loud and fast, everyone talking over each other. I grinned so wide it hurt.

Then the doors to the rink opened again, and the second Mikko and Logan stepped out onto the ice, every single kid went silent .

Mikko glided effortlessly, calm and collected, eyes sweeping over the group like he was already breaking them down by line.

Logan, naturally, was the opposite.

“Well, well, well, ” he called out, dragging out the last word. “Is this the mighty Mayhem I’ve heard so much about? I expected more. I mean, half of you look like you still nap after cartoons.”

Delgado’s eyes went huge. “Is that Logan Parrish ?”

Molly nodded, starstruck. “That’s Mikko Laaksonen.”

Jace looked from Mikko to Logan, then to me. “What the hell kind of practice is this?”

“A special one,” I said, trying not to laugh at their faces. “They’re running drills with us today. ”

Logan gave an exaggerated bow. “Try to keep up, kiddos. And no crying when I dangle you into next week.”

“I’m not crying,” Miles said immediately. “You are.”

Mikko skated up beside me, deadpan. “You sure they’re ready for this?”

I grinned. “They’re ready. You?”

His eyes tracked the group of suddenly nervous teenagers huddled by the boards. “Definitely.”

Ty blew the whistle, and the fun began.