Page 49 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

The sound of barking and shouting and overlapping voices hit me as soon as I stepped onto Beckett’s porch. I pushed the door open and stepped inside to the unmistakable whump of pizza boxes hitting a table, followed by Ty yelling something about pineapple on pizza being a war crime.

Rowdy slid a little on the hardwood while he hopped over to me, tail wagging wildly. I knelt to scratch behind his ears as the rest of the chaos unfolded around me.

“Emmy!” Logan yelled when he spotted me, holding a slice of pizza in one hand and a soda in the other.

Lori popped her head out from the kitchen. “You made it! We have pizza in here, and Shannon made a salad because good babysitters make their kids eat their vegetables.”

“You’re hardly a kid, and I don’t think I can qualify as a babysitter anymore.”

I was more than surprised to see Shannon here. She was perched on a barstool at the island, looking slightly overwhelmed. She met my eyes with a cautious kind of smile and gave a tiny wave.

I glanced toward Beckett, who had just emerged from the kitchen, a bottle of root beer in hand.

“Babysitter?” I asked quietly.

He came up beside me, then tugged me down the hall, just out of sight. The moment we were alone, he backed me into the wall, and his mouth was on mine. I sank into the kiss, incapable of saying no, even though my kid was just around the corner.

“Hi,” he said when he pulled back. His forehead rested on mine for a second before standing up. “I missed you.”

I chuckled, pushing him slightly back from me so I could see him better. “I saw you seven hours ago.”

“I know.” Beckett leaned in for one more kiss. “Too long.”

I pointed toward the kitchen. “What’s this about Shannon?”

He looked over his shoulder, smiling at where Shannon and his mom stood together in the kitchen.

In hushed tones, he told me about what happened when he dropped her off after Pilates, and how she’d ended up back here.

Anger ripped through me at everything her father had said, and that she hadn’t told me how bad it was.

“It all happened kind of fast.” His hand found mine. “But she needs somewhere safe. And Mom needs someone she trusts.”

Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes; a mixture of hurt for everything my friend had been going through, and a new level of adoration for this man I was not prepared for. “Did you steal my employee?”

He grinned, then ducked down to kiss me again. “Nah. Just offered her room, board, a stipend, and a car. She can keep doing her schoolwork and working for you around Mom’s appointments. We’ll work it out.”

“And Lori’s okay with it?”

“Thrilled,” he said. “Honestly? So am I. Mikko and Logan seem to think Frankie’s going to call me back to Denver any day now, so I feel better about leaving, having a plan in place for her.”

I nodded, because that made perfect sense, and it was a perfect solution for everyone. But each mention of our time being nearly up made my chest tight, panic sinking in.

He tugged me back into the chaos in time to see Lori bustling around with the confidence of someone determined to out-stubborn her own diagnosis.

Her hands trembled, and one foot dragged slightly as she moved.

Despite it all, she was warmth and light as she carried a bowl of popcorn the size of a small child to the coffee table.

“I told them the kitchen closes when the game starts.” Lori set the bowl down with a grin. “But no one listens to me anymore.”

“ We don’t listen? You’re the one who tried to make cinnamon rolls earlier,” Beckett muttered as he passed by. “Could have burned down the house. We’re lucky to be alive.”

“I heard that,” Lori called sweetly.

Jace had already claimed one corner of the couch, socked feet propped up like he owned the place. “Come on, Mom. It’s hockey night.”

“Oh, pardon me.” I stepped around Logan’s legs, who was laid across half the rug like he was posing for a beach calendar.

Ty and Mikko were near the TV discussing the paninis they’d had for lunch, while Shannon slipped into the kitchen behind Lori, like she’d done it a hundred times before.

My friend reappeared and pressed a paper plate into my hands. “There’s pepperoni and supreme left. Go fast—Logan eats like someone’s chasing him.”

“Thanks,” I said, searching Shannon’s face for her feelings on the day’s events.

She nudged me with an elbow. “I’m good, I promise. Better. This is good. A lot, but good.”

I looked around. At my brother, enjoying himself with friends.

At Lori, battling a degenerative disease with more grace than I knew possible.

At Rowdy, currently stealing pizza off the coffee table.

At Jace, wearing the biggest grin as he casually chatted with some of his idols.

At Shannon, somehow fitting in among the chaos.

And finally, at Beckett, leaning against the kitchen counter, bottle of root beer in hand, baseball cap turned backward like it had been all afternoon. His eyes were on everyone, quietly observing, checking in without needing to speak.

Every single person in this room was here because of him.

Every piece of this little puzzle fit because of him.

The realization I was in love with him hit me like a punch to the chest.

Not just the man who was kind to my son or who made me feel seen. I loved this version—this messy, beautiful, deeply loyal man who’d made it his personal mission to make everyone around him feel his love, even when his own heart was barely hanging on.

And he was leaving.

I felt the crack of it splinter through me—quiet and sharp and unavoidable. The NHL would call him back at any minute, and the whole point of this recovery stint had been temporary. Get better, get cleared, and go. That was the deal.

But this wasn’t temporary. Not to me. Not anymore.

He caught me staring and tilted his head, a question in his eyes and the barest hint of a smile on his face. I gave him one back, just enough to mask the ache. Because what else could I do?

“Yeah,” I said softly, barely more than a whisper. “It’s kind of perfect.”

Beckett grinned. “That’s what I said.”

And I wished, more than anything, that he meant it in the forever kind of way.

Lori came in again, waving her hand at the TV. “Alright, game’s starting. Get your butts in seats. If I can’t fly to Italy to watch Mason play in the Olympics, I’m sure not missing even a second of this. Jace gets the floor because he’s a child. I get the recliner because this is my house. Logan?—”

“Gets the couch because I’m the fan favorite,” Logan finished, tossing popcorn in his mouth.

“Fan favorite of who?” Jace slid onto the floor in front of Lori’s chair. “Your mom?”

“And also, God,” Logan replied, dropping onto the couch.

He hadn’t even settled in before Mikko shoved him back onto the floor next to Jace. “You heard her. Children on the floor.”

The first game started—Sweden vs USA—and the heckling began.

Logan argued that neither team stood a chance against Canada, while Mikko just seemed to hate on anyone from Sweden.

Ty didn’t say much but sat on a barstool behind the couch with his arms crossed, eyes alight with happiness.

Beckett’s leg bounced, leaning forward on the couch, pointing out plays to Jace, coaching even now.

Lori had tears in her eyes, glancing between her son on the TV and the room of boys around her.

I stood in the kitchen, feeling too fragile to be a part of it all.

“Absolutely never repeat this,” Shannon said around a celery stick smothered in ranch, her words quiet enough so only I could hear it, “but hockey isn’t that bad.”

I huffed out a laugh, barely audible over the roar of the TV and the boys shouting at each other from the floor.

“I mean, it’s still mostly overgrown man-children skating around chasing a rubber disk,” Shannon went on. “But occasionally, it’s tolerable. When there’s good snacks and no dads throwing bourbon bottles.”

My stomach twisted. Her voice was too flippant, too light.

I leaned my hip against the counter, arms crossed tight to keep from hugging her. “You okay?”

Shannon shot me a look that was all dry disbelief. “Of course. I’m living my best life. Two kinds of dip, a whole functioning family I didn’t genetically come from, and a boy band of hockey delinquents fighting about geography. What’s not to love?”

I didn’t answer. Just watched as Jace tilted his head toward Beckett, absorbing every word like gospel.

His legs were stretched out long in front of him, one socked foot nudging Logan in the side as he laughed at something on-screen.

For a moment, it looked like everything I wanted for him. Steady, safe, easy.

But Beckett was leaving soon, and I didn’t know how to soften the blow that the man he’d come to adore was headed back to the world that had taken his dad from him, too .

Different circumstances, same outcome: an empty seat in the bleachers.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He’s going to be wrecked.”

Shannon didn't ask who. She knew.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “But look on the bright side. At least he’s not going to be devastated alone. You’ll be sobbing into your puzzles, and I’ll be upstairs drowning in my own abandonment issues. We can form a support group. Cry into carbs. Trade trauma like Pokémon cards.”

I let out a watery laugh that cracked halfway through. “God, you’re so messed up.”

“The good ones always are.” She bumped my shoulder with hers. “Don’t cry in the queso. I just got it the right amount of spicy.”

But my eyes burned. Because Beckett was going. Because I couldn’t ask him to stay, not when I knew how badly he wanted to prove he could still play. Because my son had found a new version of family, and I was about to watch him lose it again.

And most of all, because I loved Beckett, and I had no idea how to say it without making it harder for both of us.

I wiped the corner of my eye before the tears could fall and crossed the room, sinking onto the barstool next to Ty. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped one arm around my shoulders and let me lean my head against him, solid and steady like always.

Between the second and third periods, the game cut to commercial, and the room broke into chaotic conversation. Shannon shouted something about snack refills and made a dramatic exit with the veggie tray. Ty handed me a fresh soda without asking. And then Beckett’s phone rang .

He glanced at the screen and stiffened, mouth tightening.

“It’s Coach,” he said, already swiping to answer. “Hey. You’re on speaker.”

The room quieted instantly. Even Logan stopped mid-popcorn toss.

Frankie’s voice came through first, cheerful and direct. “You passed your post-op movement tests this morning, Conway. Coach and I just finished your file review with Dr. Carter. You’re cleared to return to practice on Friday.”

For a beat, no one moved.

Beckett’s voice didn’t waver. “Friday’s perfect.”

He hung up, then looked up at the room, his smile faltering when he looked at my son. “Shit. That’s the last regular season game for the Mayhem.”

My eyes flew straight to Jace. He didn’t say a word—just looked at the floor and nodded once. He was trying to act cool, like it didn’t matter. Like it hadn’t meant the world to him. But the way his shoulders curled inward made my chest ache.

Ty shifted beside me and leaned forward, raising his voice just enough to cut through the quiet. “I’ve got the rest of the season. We’ll make you proud.”

Jace looked up, surprised, and Ty locked eyes with him across the room.

“Promise,” he added. “You’re not losing us.”

That one word— promise —landed like a stone in my chest.

Jace gave a tight nod, and this time, his shoulders didn’t sag quite so far.

Then the room erupted.

Logan whooped and tackled Mikko in a side-hug that was half full-body takedown. Lori clapped, then held her hands out for a hug from her son. Even Ty gave Beckett a solid clap on the back.

And Beckett—God, he turned around glowing, grinning like a kid at Christmas, and strode toward me like he was going to kiss me right then and there. I saw it coming. The lean, the look, the way his eyes dropped to my mouth like he couldn’t help it.

But then his gaze flicked just past me to my son, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes on the TV, trying a little less hard now to pretend he wasn’t paying attention.

Beckett’s steps faltered. He caught himself, masked it with a grin, and pulled me into a quick, one-armed hug instead, his cheek brushing mine, his voice low and warm in my ear.

“Later,” he whispered. “I’ll come over tonight.”

Even though my heart ached from the weight of goodbye, I couldn’t deny him anything.