Page 97 of Made for Mayhem

By late afternoon the sun sat low, baking the asphalt until it shimmered. The smell of funnel cake, sunscreen, and melted snow cones hung in the air. The crowd hadn’t thinned once all day—steady from the minute the gates opened—and damn if I wasn’t impressed.

Daisy had pulled it off.

A booth showcasing the expansion plans for the rink sat near the beer garden the Lantern had set up, and it seemed to be the heart of the chaos. Poster boards with renderings of the second rink and upstairs viewing deck lined the space, a donation box on the table stuffed to the brim with cash and checks.

Beckett, Mason, and Mikko stood nearby, each holding a bottle of water. I crossed the street toward them, wiping sweat from the back of my neck.

“Hell of a turnout,” Beckett said, scanning the crowd. “I’m shocked how many vendors showed up with this little notice, but this is impressive.”

“That’s what happens when you put three NHL players on a flyer,” Mason said. He cupped his hands and yelled, “You’re welcome, Mayhem!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Beckett punched his brother in the stomach, and Mason doubled over.

I scanned the street. “Where’s Junie?”

Beckett nodded toward the booths farther down. “Jace took her to walk around. They were determined to win a bigger teddy bear than the one still sitting in my old room.”

“Good luck. That thing’s the size of a couch.”

Mikko tapped one of the poster boards. “This is impressive,” he said, his Finnish accent barely noticeable after a decade playing hockey in the U.S. “Are these expansion drawings real?”

“Yeah,” Beckett said. “Final schematics. Once financing closes and the permits clear, we’re green-lit.”

“When do you break ground?” Mikko asked.

“Late August,” I answered. “Two new locker rooms, a second rink, upstairs viewing windows, and a kitchen big enough to feed half the county.”

Mikko nodded. “Good. The kids here deserve it.”

“Tate deserves it all,” Mason said.

Beckett groaned. “You’re lucky she didn’t murder you in front of children.”

“But she didn’t,” Mason said, more than a little smug. “Progress.”

Mikko laughed. “Never change.”

Mason nudged him in the ribs. “Speaking of not changing, you big brute. Aren’t you supposed to age? How am I gonna beat you to the puck next season if you keep getting bigger?”

“And faster,” Beckett added.

“When are you heading back to Finland, Mikko?” Mason asked.

“In a few days,” Mikko answered. “I’ll see my parents. Spend time at the lake. Speaking of, how’s Lori doing?”

Beckett’s grin softened at the mention of his mom. “Good. Not much change with her Parkinson’s, but I’m glad to be back in town.”

Mikko nodded. “That’s great. Is Shannon still with her?”

“Yeah,” Beckett said. “But her school schedule is changing soon as she starts her clinical fellowship year in speech pathology. She’s been looking for remote placements she can earn her credits and stay in town, but we’ll see what that looks like.”

“And her dad? No more trouble?”

The three of us turned to look at him.

Mason’s grin spread. “Well, well, well. That sounds a lot like concern.”

Beckett raised a brow. “Sure does, brother. You’ve got a lot of questions about a woman you met once.”