Page 16 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

KODIE

“ U gh,” I grunt, throwing my bag onto my bed in the hotel room I’m sharing with Linc before watching it bounce off and land on the floor with a thud.

Pretty much sums up everything about tonight.

A total fuck-up.

I knew it was going to happen.

Cooper Nash.

I shake my head as I swipe my bag up and place it on the chair beside my bed.

He’s been a pain in my ass for years now.

The fact that we were friends once is laughable.

We went to fucking school together.

Played side by side for years.

But we went to different colleges and then got drafted to different teams, and our once-innocent friendship has turned into this toxic competitive bullshit that I can’t stand.

It wasn’t me. It was all him.

The first time we played against each other in college, I was excited to see him. Thought we could go out after the game and catch up.

But the second I stood before him on the ice, I realized that the man in front of me wasn’t the person I once knew.

All hockey players are competitive. It runs through our veins. But Cooper…he’s taken it to the extreme.

Our friendship is long gone now. Every time I see him, I can’t help but feel sorry for him.

Sure, he’s focused and has an incredible record—not quite as good as mine, but still good. He plays for a great team, but somewhere along the way he seems to have forgotten that it’s possible to be a good player and a decent person.

I can’t put all the blame at his feet, though. His dad and uncle were both ex-NHL players. The pressure they put on him was ridiculous. Even at a young age, they wanted him to be the best. Back then, though, he could also enjoy the fun of the game and the dream.

It seems that all of that has gone by the wayside.

“It’s not the bag’s fault,” Linc mutters from behind me.

More often than not, we’re put together. Usually, I don’t complain.

We might be wildly different, but we get on well.

He’s the version of me I barely remember from my college and early NHL days.

He’s the life and soul of the party. He never takes anything—aside from hockey—too seriously. He’s generally a happy-go-lucky guy who’s happy to entertain as many of his adoring female fans as possible.

Shrugging off my suit jacket, I pull my tie from around my neck, loosen a few buttons, and fall onto my bed.

“That guy is a fucking asshole,” I mutter.

“What’s new there?” Linc asks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Fucking hate losing to him.”

“I hate losing,” Linc shoots back.

I glare at him.

“You know, you’re even grumpier than usual,” he points out helpfully.

My teeth clench, making my jaw tick with irritation. I can’t exactly argue with him.

The pressure of preseason, our first loss, and the fact that I can’t seem to get Casey out of my head…yeah, I’m a miserable motherfucker.

I grunt some kind of response as I stare up at the ceiling.

If it weren’t so late, I’d video call Sutton. But she will have been in bed long ago. With any luck, she fell asleep before the end of the game, but it’s wishful thinking. I fucking hate being lured into something on the ice that she shouldn’t be witness to.

“It’s because you got laid,” Linc surmises as he pushes from the wall. He stalks around his bed before sitting on the edge and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, studying me.

“We’re not talking about this,” I mutter.

“You might not be, but I am.”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I fight to keep my breathing even.

“Probably a stupid question, but…have you seen her again?”

“Who?” I ask, keeping my eyes closed.

His laugh booms around me, but there isn’t a lot of humor in it.

“You’re funny.”

No, I’m not.

I’m pissed, and I want to be at home.

“Are you going to see her again?”

Cracking one eye open, I glare at him as hard as I can praying he gets the message and fucks off.

He should be at the bar already, hitting on women. If I’m lucky, he’ll find one to spend the night with and leave me the hell alone.

“Dude, come on. Give me something here,” he begs. “I just want to see you happy. And that night…you were happy. Hell, I’m pretty sure I actually saw you smile.”

“Fuck off; I smile.”

“You grimace at best.”

Forcing my cheeks up, I smile at him.

“Grimace. You look about as happy as someone who’s just been told their grandmother’s died.”

“Can you just…leave?”

“Nope. Not unless you’re coming with me.”

“I’m not?— ”

“You need to blow off some steam. Let go of…whatever is weighing you down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar,” he counters. “Come for a drink.”

I don’t know why he’s asking; I hardly ever go out with them, even when we are on the road.

“Linc,” I warn.

“One drink, just one, and then you can come back here and cry into your pillow.”

“I don’t cry?—”

He raises a brow, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Come, or I’ll stay too and keep asking you questions about your lady in green. She looked good in Vipers colors. I wonder how hot she’d look in your jersey? Probably not as good as she’d look in mine.”

Something red hot shoots through me as my stomach knots up and my fists clench at my sides.

“You want her,” he teases.

“I don’t,” I counter. “I don’t even know who she is.”

It’s a bare-faced lie. But it should be the truth.

I was never meant to know who she was.

Fuck.

It would be so much easier if that were still the case.

She may have lingered in my head, in my fantasies for a while, but eventually, the memories of her would have faded.

But now…

Now I’m going to see her at home games, at any time she finds an excuse to come to the rink during practice.

It might well be innocent, to see her dad.

She might stand by what she said and never do or say anything about it again.

But even the promise of her presence is enough to drive me out of my mind.

My confession has the opposite intended effect, piquing Linc’s interest.

“You don’t know who she is?” he repeats.

Pushing myself up so I sit against the headboard, I look at him, begging him to get this over with.

“No. I don’t know who she is. ”

“But you fucked her, right?”

“I went back to her hotel room,” I say, refusing to go into details.

“Aaaand…watched Disney Plus?” He quirks a brow. “I saw you kiss her on the dance floor. There’s no fucking way you went and watched a movie.”

“Whatever we did or didn’t do, she never removed her mask.”

“Kinky, Rivers. I like it,” he says, waggling his eyebrows like the tyrant he is.

I drag my hand down my face.

“Does she know who you are?”

I swallow thickly, my Adam’s apple bobbing in my throat.

Apparently, that’s enough of an answer for him.

“So she knows who you are, and yet, she hasn’t come to find you?” he muses, like this is an algebra equation he needs to figure out.

“It was a one-night thing.”

“The women who want to sleep with us never want it to be a one-night thing,” he states, probably referring to the hordes of women he’s had to turn away over the years.

“Well, then I lucked out, because this one was happy with one night.”

“And she hasn’t sold the story to the press? I can see it now: ‘first woman to bed LA Vipers’ top scorer in years tells all about mystery winger.’”

“You’re not funny,” I grunt.

“Wait…how many years had it been, exactly?”

I shake my head. Mostly because I want him to stop, but also because it was so long that I’m not even sure anymore.

Making a decision that I hope will result in him shutting the hell up, I swing my legs off the bed and mutter, “Are we going for a fucking drink or not?”

His eyes burn into my back as I march toward the door and pull it open.

“You coming, Storm?”

“Hell yeah!” He jumps to his feet and races after me, fist-pumping the air.

I already felt out of place as I followed Linc into a bar a few blocks over, but it only gets worse as we approach the booth the guys are sitting in.

One by one, they look up, and the second their gazes land on me, eyes widen and chins drop.

I fucking hate it. Mainly because it makes me feel like an asshole.

All these guys welcomed me from my very first training session a year ago, and I’ve thanked them by…mostly being absent.

And it’s not just me. They’ve welcomed Sutton and Mom, as well.

Whenever there have been family events, or even just at the games Sutton attends, they always make the effort to say hello to her. They’ve made her feel as much a part of the team as I am. It’s something I’ll forever be grateful for.

I guess I should probably start showing them.

“Shift over, Marilyn,” Linc says, none too gently shoving our rookie, Hayden Monroe, in the shoulder, forcing him to make space for us.

It’s a big booth, but put a handful of hockey players in it, and it looks tiny. Much like when Sutton tries to put her stuffies into her Barbie house.

Fletch gets the attention of the server before my ass hits the bench, and he orders another round of beers.

“I don’t usually?—”

“Just one. With your team,” Fletch says, turning to me with an understanding expression on his face.

The conversation drifts to tonight’s game and what an asshole Cooper is. I don’t argue the point.

I may have fond childhood memories with him, but every time I come up against him as an adult, another one of them withers and dies.

The second my beer is placed in front of me, I act on instinct and reach for it.

A groan rumbles deep in my throat at the familiar taste.

“Good?” Linc asks with a smirk.

“Yeah,” I agree.

“See, it’s not so bad hanging out with us, is it?”

Guilt knots up my insides that my teammates might think I don’t want to spend time with them.

That’s not it at all. It has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me.

Putting tonight’s loss behind us, we focus on what’s to come. We still have six more exhibition games; hopefully, it’ll be enough time for us to find our footing as a team and embark on our most successful season yet.

“So, how was your first road game as a Viper, Marylin?” Flech asks our rookie.

“Yeah, good,” he says, shrinking a little under our attention.

“Wow,” Fletch laughs. “I’m glad it left an impression on you.”

I think back to my first week of preseason. It was the most overwhelming week of my life.

Just like our rookie, I had all the confidence, and I knew I had the skill. After being at the top of my game at college, it was unnerving to suddenly become the bottom of the pile again.

There’s something about our rookie, though.

He’ll be fine. Give it a month or two, and he’ll have found his place.

I’m looking forward to seeing what he can bring to the team.

I’ve watched his college games; I know what he’s capable of. I’m sure everyone around the table does as well.

“Right,” Fletch says after finishing his beer. “I’m heading back to speak to Reese.”

We stand to allow him out. He says goodbye to everyone before turning to me.

His hand wraps around my shoulder, and his eyes find mine. “It was good to see you tonight, Big D.”

My lips purse at the nickname.

Unlike what people assume, it actually stands for Big Daddy.

Which…honestly, I’m not sure is better or worse.

“You should hang out with us more; I know it would make Coach happy.” I swallow thickly as that guilt returns. “We’re going to the playoffs this year. But to do that, we’ve got to do it together,” he states with a look that makes me want to return to my hotel room with my tail between my legs.

Instead, I force a nod. “Yeah.”

“Great. See you in the morning. Enjoy the rest of your night,” he calls to everyone before he disappears.

“So whipped,” Linc says as I lower myself beside him.

“Yeah,” I agree. Although really, is that a bad thing?

For the very briefest of moments, I wonder what it might be like to have a woman waiting for me at home after a game.

No, not a woman.

Casey.

“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Linc teases.

Shaking my head, I reach for what’s left of my beer and try to focus on doing what Fletch just said: enjoying my night.

Thankfully, Linc doesn’t mention my mystery girl again until we’re back in our hotel room a little over an hour later.

“You need to find her,” he says as the door closes behind us.

A laugh spills from my lips.

“I don’t need a woman in my life. And I certainly don’t need to run around town looking for one.”

“Did she leave a glass slipper behind?” Linc asks unhelpfully. I shake my head as I toe my shoes off.

The only things she left were the memories of the best night of my life.

And the desire to do it all over again.