Page 56 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

“Hell yeah, fuck yeah,” Delgado said, looking up into the packed stands around us.

Ty slapped him over the head and Delgado ducked out of his range. “Language.”

“If being at game six of the Stanley Cup championships doesn’t earn a swear or two, my name’s not Molly,” Molly said. “Because hell yeah, fuck yeah.”

Delgado held a hand up for a fist bump, and I chuckled at my brother’s exasperated head shake.

The sound inside Mile High Arena was absolute chaos, so much louder than a few weeks ago when the Mayhem had played here.

Music pulsed. Lights strobed. Fans screamed like their lives depended on it. The Yeti were up 3-2 in the series, and the Cup was in the building. One more win tonight, and it was over.

I stood at the glass, clutching an emergency pretzel and doing my best not to pass out.

It had been a grueling two months of playoffs. Beckett had given body, mind, and soul to this run, and we’d been at every single home game. His own little cheering squad, loud and proud and aggressively decked out in Conway gear.

I thought I was used to the nerves by now, that after a decade of standing on the sidelines for Jace I’d learned to handle it.

But watching Beckett warm up for what could be the biggest game of his life felt like I was back in the stands at Mayhem games, clutching the bleachers like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

Ty leaned over, voice raised above the roar. "You going to breathe anytime soon, or should I start Googling CPR instructions?"

"Not helping," I muttered.

Around us, the Mayhem pressed against the boards, eyes wide, practically vibrating with excitement.

Delgado was narrating everything like a broadcaster.

Miles had already dropped half his popcorn.

Jace looked cool on the outside, but I could see the twitch in his jaw, the excited energy in his stance.

All our players were wearing new Mayhem jerseys with Coach Conway printed on the back, excited to show them off.

"Man, this is so cool." Jace grinned. "He’s going to lose his mind when he sees us."

I fidgeted with my new custom jacket, the leather fabric emblazoned with his name and number that said I was far more than just a fan.

Ty eyed me sideways. “Feeling exposed there, sis?”

“I look like a groupie.”

“You look like a WAG.”

Before I could argue, the team took the ice for warmups, and the volume inside the arena somehow doubled.

The Mayhem kids exploded in cheers as Beckett skated out, laser-focused. He did a loop, practiced a shot, exchanged glove bumps with a teammate, and then he saw us.

I swear, I felt that subtle shift in his stride. The way his head lifted just a little. His eyes locked on ours, and then directly on me.

I froze. “Oh God.”

Jace leaned in with a wicked grin. “Brace for impact.”

Beckett coasted toward our section, slowing as he neared the glass. A few fans waved and someone banged the glass next to us, but he didn’t look away. As one, the kids turned, showing off their new jerseys, and I watched his eyes light up with glee.

“Did he see it?” Molly shouted, looking over her shoulder.

I grinned back at him, feeling every ounce of his joy. “Yeah. He saw it.”

Beckett skated right up to the glass, braced one glove on the boards, then he pointed to my chest, and mouthed, Turn around.

I shook my head, cheeks heating. He mouthed it again, slower, one brow raised: Turn. Around.

“Do it, Emmy!” Molly yelled. “Let him see!”

“She’s blushing!” Delgado cackled.

“Don’t faint, Mom,” Jace added, clearly delighted.

Groaning, I turned around and spread my arms so he could get a full view of the jacket, peeking over my shoulder to watch his reaction.

He nodded, smiling like a smug bastard, and tapped his chest right over his heart.

Ty chuckled. “Well, that was subtle.”

I turned back around, heart hammering, trying and failing not to grin .

Beckett skated off to resume warmups, and I turned to watch the kids enjoy themselves.

Above us, I spotted Shannon, Tate, Mason, and Lori already settled in the suite. Shannon waved her phone in the air like she was recording everything. Tate looked like she was trying not to smile. Mason blew me a kiss and immediately turned to Tate, saying something that made her roll her eyes.

“Ten bucks says he just told her if the Yeti win, he’s proposing on the Jumbotron,” Jace said.

“If the Yeti win, I’ll propose to Molly on the Jumbotron too,” Delgado said.

She shoved him hard in the chest, sending him reeling backward over the row of chairs, and I snorted a laugh.

“Hey,” Ty said beside me. “You okay?”

I looked up at my brother. At his warm eyes, his steady presence, the way he’d carried me through every broken moment over the last year without asking for anything in return.

Then I looked back at the ice. At Beckett, still watching us between drills like we were his entire world.

I took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m okay.”

Ty raised a brow. Waited.

I smiled. “This is it, isn’t it? This is forever.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Just nodded, clapped a hand to the back of my neck, and pulled me in for a quick hug.

“I know,” he said, like he’d known it all along.

The buzzer sounded for warmups to end, and Beckett gave us one last grin before skating off toward the tunnel, tapping his stick to the glass again on the way.

Ty rounded up the kids, steering them toward the nearest stairwell. “Let’s go find our seats. We’ve got a championship to win.”

I followed after them, walking toward my seat in a jacket with Beckett’s name on it, surrounded by the best people I’d ever known, in the place where I’d found everything I didn’t even know I needed.

Two hours later, the Yeti did it.

Stanley Cup champions.

Beckett scored two goals—one of them the game-winner—and I was still trying to remember how to breathe.

Logan played like he was powered by spite, chirping the entire opposing bench and still managing to log two assists and a breakaway goal that sent the arena into a frenzy.

Mikko was a wall on defense—blocking shots, clearing the crease, and leveling a forward so hard in the third that the guy had to be helped off the ice.

But it was Beckett who sealed it. Against every odd, he skated like he had something to prove, and someone to come home to.

When that final buzzer sounded, he didn’t throw his gloves, didn’t celebrate with the team.

He turned, found us in the crowd, and smiled like the only victory that mattered was right here.

The roar in the arena was deafening, but I barely heard it. My whole body buzzed as I made my way down to the ice with Ty and the kids. They were practically bouncing out of their shoes, shouting, hugging, tripping over each other in their excitement.

Security waved us through as the on-ice celebrations began, and just as we stepped onto the carpet leading toward center ice, I saw him.

Beckett was grinning like a madman, helmet off, hair damp with sweat, hugging teammates left and right. The Cup hadn’t been presented yet, but the joy in his face was pure, unfiltered, and victorious.

Then a reporter stepped in front of him, holding out a mic.

“Beckett Conway! Two goals tonight, including the game-winner in what is rumored to be your final NHL appearance. The fans want to know if the rumors are true—are you coming back next season?”

I froze, reaching out and grabbing Jace’s hand. Every cell in my body went still, like the world had narrowed to this one fragile, impossible moment.

Beckett’s eyes found mine through the chaos, through the lights and the noise and the swirl of celebration.

His smile wasn’t the triumphant look of a man who’d just won everything. It was the look of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

We’d talked about this for weeks, after games and in the quiet early mornings when we drank our coffees together on speaker phone.

I’d told him I didn’t need him to walk away for me. That I loved him in the NHL or out. That if he had more to give to this game, I’d stand beside him every step of the way.

And still, this was the choice he made.

Not for me. Not for Jace. For him .

He turned to the mic and said, loud and clear, “This was my last game in the NHL.”

A ripple moved through the arena. The reporter blinked. “You’re retiring? ”

Beckett nodded, eyes still on me. “As much as this game has meant to me, I met a kid this year who reminded me why I started playing in the first place. He’s got more talent and heart than most of the guys I’ve ever played with, and he’s the future of this game. I can’t wait to coach him.”

The reporter chuckled. “Sounds like a special kid to give it all up for.”

Beckett’s smile deepened. “You have no idea how special he is. And hopefully, I can convince his mom to marry me, too.”

The crowd erupted, the kids lost it, and the reporter clutched her chest like she had no idea how to process the bombs Beckett dropped left and right.

I burst into tears, laughing as Jace yanked on my arm. “You’re going to say yes, right?”

I nodded, unable to find the words. Beckett held out his arms as I reached him, the chaos of the championship erupting around us, and pulled me into him like he never planned to let go.

And I knew, without a single doubt, that he never would.

Up Next: Ty Hudson

He’s a grumpy coach and brand-new foster dad.

She’s Junie’s aunt—and the one woman he never forgot. Now she’s living next door and turning his quiet life upside down.

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