Page 9 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

The steady ding, ding, ding of the truck—door open, engine running—wasn't nearly enough to pull me back to reality. Wrapped in a ridiculous knee-length puffer and still managing to short-circuit my entire nervous system, Emmy disappeared into that new Pilates studio like she hadn’t just flipped my world upside down in under five minutes.

And somehow, I was still standing there, stunned like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time.

What the hell had just happened?

She’d always been Ty’s little sister—mouthy, fearless, off-limits. But now? Now she was all woman, all fire, and that five-minute conversation had more heat in it than any of my previous relationships. My heart was racing like I’d just taken a hit on open ice, and my brain… yeah, it was useless .

Where the hell had that come from?

Had she always been this sharp? This electric? Had I just been too wrapped up in hockey and my own ego to notice?

Suddenly, every memory I had of Emmy as a teenager was being overwritten by the woman who’d just knocked the wind out of me with nothing more than a glare, a smirk, and a few cutting words.

I swore under my breath and finally reached for the door, my hand still tingling from where she’d touched me—where I’d touched her. That look in her eyes when I brushed her jaw, like she'd felt it too, wasn’t my imagination.

And, God help me, I wanted to feel it again.

Whatever this was, it was dangerous. No matter how gorgeous Emmy had grown up to be—how much heat pulsed between us just standing on a sidewalk—she was Ty’s sister.

I couldn’t go there. Not when I’d be out of this little town and back with my team as soon as I got Mom settled into something resembling a routine.

Once she was out of sight, I grabbed the handlebar above the door and hoisted myself back into the truck.

With a hand braced on the passenger seat, I glanced over my shoulder and reversed out onto River Street, needing to put a little distance between me and the wildfire that woman had just lit in my chest.

A few taps on the screen sent a message to Ty:

Jace made it to school. Talk later.

Originally, I’d planned to swing by the hardware store and tell him that in person but doing it now with a semi over his sister felt like a bad call.

I cruised through town, past the brightly painted buildings and crooked wooden storefronts that had stood here longer than anyone still alive.

Linwood always felt frozen in time, like a snapshot of an age long ago.

And yet, it didn’t feel stale. Somehow, even with the changes, it still felt like home .

I turned down Second Street, slowing at the familiar curve past the elementary school and letting my hand rest on the gearshift, like muscle memory alone could steer me through a town I hadn’t lived in for 20 years.

I didn’t belong here anymore. Not really.

But damn, for the first time in a long time, I missed it.

My phone rang as I made it out of town and onto the highway, my manager’s name lighting up the screen. I hit the button to deny the call like I had been all weekend but hit a pothole and accidentally accepted it instead.

“He lives!” Gavin York’s voice came over the speakers in my car. “About time you answered your damn phone.”

“Tried to hang up on you but wasn’t quick enough.”

“Yes, well, maybe your reflexes would be better if you actually showed up to your PT appointments.”

I could practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose, so I let him sit in silence for a moment.

“You there?” Gavin said, and I chuckled. “Dammit, Conway. You make my life difficult.”

“Okay, I’ll take that plane you just bought then.”

Gavin sighed. “What’s going on, man? Why did you skip town without telling anyone? And where are you?”

“Linwood.”

“Oh, shit. Really? Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, unsure if that was actually true. “Mom had an accident, and since I’m laid up, felt it was time for a visit.”

“Sure, sure.” The sound of keyboard clicking filtered through the phone, and I knew Gavin well enough to know he was already handling the mess I’d made for myself. “So how long are you staying? Or are you headed back now?”

“Don’t know yet.” I checked the rearview mirror, the white-tipped mountains filling my vision, and the thick clouds above them heavy with more snow. “Headed to see her now, and then we’ll go from there.”

The keyboard clicking stopped, then started again. “Okay, so a few days. Let me get your doctors and trainers on the phone, and we’ll get a plan in place. No time for setbacks, and you’ll be back in Denver by, what, Wednesday? Two days? Does that work?”

“Sure.” I wasn’t even kind of sure, afraid of what I’d find when I saw Mom, but that wasn’t a conversation I was ready to have. “I gotta go.”

“Talk soon,” Gavin said. “Quit ignoring my calls.”

“Never.” I hung up, and the radio switched back to the early 2000’s rock blaring over the speakers.

The mountains flew by in a blur, each little town in the Vail Valley looking the same.

Luckily, this area was home to some of the best doctors in the country.

It was one of the main reasons I hadn’t already insisted she move down to Denver or to Dallas with Mason.

Also, no one told Lori Conway what to do.

My tires crunched as I pulled into the valet circle at the front entrance to the hospital. A kid hopped up from just inside the sliding doors and ran around the front hood, there by the time I opened the door.

“Morning, sir,” he said, holding his hands out for my keys. “Are you here for an appointment or to visit?”

“Just visiting.” I dropped the keys in his palm, then grabbed the crutches from the passenger seat and slid them under my arms. Another week of babying my hip, and hopefully I’d be rid of these for good.

The kid handed me a ticket, and I walked inside. Soft piano music filtered through the lobby, painting a serene picture for a building that housed the sick and dying. Sure, maybe miracles happened here too, but all I could think about was my mom somewhere in the maze of these halls, all alone.

“Shit,” I mumbled, guilt rising in me that I hadn’t tried harder to get here over the weekend. I handed my ID over to the receptionist, and watched as she read my name, then did a double take.

“You’re Beckett Conway. From the Denver Yetis.”

I nodded, offering her a brief smile, even though I wasn’t in the mood. “Here to see Lori Conway.”

Her mouth snapped shut, and she turned back to the screen. A paper badge printed out with my ID picture, a time stamp, and her room number.

“Third floor. Elevators are to your right, and down the hall.” She handed it to me, her hands slightly shaking.

“We’re huge fans of yours in my house. Your comeback this year is all we can talk about, especially with this six-game losing streak right now.

No way can we make it to the Cup with you out for the season. Will you be back?”

I grunted, then took the badge from her. “Trying my best.”

My crutches echoed on the tile floors as I made my way down the sterile hallway and to the elevator, then up to the third floor. With a quick glance at the sign, I found my way to her room and rapped on the door.

“Come in,” she said, her voice groggy, and I pushed the door open with my good hip, then spun to walk inside. I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant that I was getting good with my crutches, but it couldn’t be anything good.

Mom’s room was dark, light leaking in through the crack in the blinds on the sides of her windows but otherwise lit only by the many machines beeping and blinking around her. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Her head jerked in my direction, her mouth spreading into a wide smile.

It had been far too long since I’d seen my mom, but she was just as stunning as always, her white-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, face creased with laugh lines from a life well-lived.

“Well, hey stranger! What are you doing here?”

I shook my head, and she held her arms out for a hug. One arm was bound in a cast from her thumb to her elbow, and a bruise lined her cheekbone, but otherwise she looked okay. Frail, but okay.

“What the hell do you mean, what am I doing here? How about, why didn’t you call me?”

“Language, son.” She swatted at my back with her good hand as I leaned in for the hug. “I know you have manners.”

I chuckled, careful of the wires and IV tubing as I hugged her gently. “You know, I had this exact conversation this morning with Emmy’s son.”

She let out a laugh that quickly turned into a wince. “Oof. Don’t make me laugh. My ribs hate me right now.”

“Sorry,” I said, settling onto the chair beside her bed.

“What were you doing with Jace?” she asked. “He out at the pond again?”

I hummed. “I take it he does that a lot.”

She waved a dismissive hand, a tremor in her fingers barely there—but there all the same.

She noticed the flicker of my gaze and tucked her hand beneath the blanket.

“That boy’s been through it. If sneaking onto my pond gives him a bit of peace, I’m not about to chase him off. Don’t you go doing it either.”

“Uh-huh. And what about the part where he’s skipping school?” I lifted a brow, knowing my retired teacher mother would have something to say about that.

She rolled her eyes. “School first, always. You better have told him that. Though,” she added, eyes twinkling, “I doubt he listened. That boy thinks the sun rises and sets on you.”

“Really? Because he went toe-to-toe in a verbal sparring match this morning. Weird way to talk to your idol.”

Mom shook with laughter, wincing once more as she leaned back into the pillows. I moved to help adjust them, but she lifted a shaky hand and shot me a look that said, don’t hover, clear as day.

So, I stayed seated, my hands gripping the edge of the chair to keep them still.

“Don’t make me laugh,” she said once she was settled. “My ribs hurt like a little bitch. And don’t you dare say anything about my language. I’m hurt.”