Page 29 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

CASEY

“ F ighting fire with fire, huh?” Parker muses as I join her in my living room, having gotten changed for tonight’s game.

She met her brother this morning for breakfast before coming here to laze on my couch all afternoon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say coyly as I walk past her.

It took me a while to decide what to wear tonight. There was only one thing I knew for certain that I wasn’t wearing…his jersey. There was no way I was giving him the satisfaction of seeing me in that again.

I had the rest of the team to choose from, but I needed one that would prove my point should Kodie care enough to look in my direction tonight.

“The hotpants and boots are a good touch,” Parker laughs. “You’re giving great bunny vibes.”

I swallow nervously, suddenly questioning my decision.

“Is it too much?” I ask, looking down at myself.

I’ve never been a puck bunny, nor do I want to be one. And not just because Dad would have a coronary if he saw me flirting with the players.

But the chance to make a point tonight was too much to deny.

“After what he did? Not a chance,” she states confidently. “You look hot, and he’s going to lose his mind when he looks at you.”

My stomach knots and my hands tremble.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to see him again. But I refuse to miss a game I love because of one idiot player.

I’m starting to understand why Dad has insisted I never date his players. It makes things complicated. Especially when it goes wrong.

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Parker points out.

“I feel like I might.”

“You need a shot,” she states before jumping to her feet and rushing into my kitchen.

“Pretty sure that’s the last thing I need,” I call after her.

I’ve barely eaten all day, so a sip of alcohol will go straight to my head.

“We’re going for food. It’ll soak it all up,” Parker reasons as she pours us a shot each and turns to me with a wicked smile.

“Tequila,” she says, in case I didn’t know what I had in my cupboard. “Perfect start to the night.”

“You do know we both have work tomorrow, right?”

“We’re not getting drunk, just…liquid courage. One for fun,” she says, lifting her glass to her lips.

“And one for luck,” I finish before swallowing the whole thing in one go. “Ugh,” I complain as it burns down my throat.

It only takes a few seconds though for it to begin working its magic.

“Right, let’s go before this really hits me,” I say, grabbing my purse and looping it across my body.

“You don’t need to tell me twice.”

In contrast to my choice, Parker is wearing a generic Vipers hoodie tonight.

I can only assume that’s to avoid antagonizing her brother, who is about as happy with her dating players as my dad is me.

Not that he really needs to worry; the only interest she has in getting up close and personal with them is to cause them physical pain.

By the time we get outside the building, Parker has an Uber waiting for us, and in only a few short minutes, we’re being dropped off at our favorite Mexican restaurant a couple of blocks from the arena.

As per usual, the place is a sea of green and white jerseys and there is anticipation in the air.

A rush of excitement goes through me.

Screw Kodie and his bullshit. He’s not going to ruin tonight for me.

We’re shown to our table, and Parker immediately orders us the biggest margaritas on the menu.

A collective gasp sucks all the air out of the arena as Everett Donnelly crosschecks Kodie into the boards.

The whistle blows, but the penalty isn’t called, sending the Vipers fans into chaos.

“Your brother is on fire tonight,” I quietly muse to Parker.

“He isn’t called the best grinder in the league for nothing.”

"Pfft.”

Usually, I celebrate Rett’s achievements just as much as I will the Vipers’. But not when he’s playing against my team and slamming my players into the boards.

Tonight, he’s the enemy.

Play restarts and the Vipers fans continue to riot over the ref’s decisions.

“Is Rett paying this guy off or something?” I mutter, anger obvious in my tone as he stops another of our advances with questionable techniques.

“He’s going to start a war if he keeps going,” Parker says. “Although knowing Rett, that’s probably what he’s trying to do.”

I can’t help but chuckle. Rett is nothing if not a showman.

He loves nothing more than having his face on the front page and splashed all over social media.

He doesn’t seem to care if it’s because he’s done something good or something stupid—and the latter is more common.

I feel for the Seattle PR team having to deal with his antics.

The game continues in a similar fashion, with us getting our asses handed to us.

The fans around us get angrier and angrier as they watch in horror as Seattle scores again.

With their expressions set with determination, the Vipers get into position for one last chance to gain some ground before the final whistle blows.

“Yes,” I scream when the puck drops and Fletch quickly passes it to Kodie.

My heart is in my throat as he flies toward the goal.

Almost the entire arena is on their feet, waiting to see if he can end the game with a goal like in Utah.

But just as he’s about to take the shot, Rett appears.

The two of them collide, and Kodie’s shot goes wide. A collective groan of frustration ripples through the stands.

The whistle blows, and the fans who hadn’t already abandoned the game start to file out.

Disappointment is heavy. I get it. No one likes to see their team lose. Hell, no one wants to lose. But it’s all part of the game.

And nowhere is that disappointment felt more than on the ice.

Kodie climbs angrily to his feet, stumbling a little as he recovers from the hit. “Oh my god,” I gasp as he shoves a celebrating Rett, forcing him to crash into the boards.

Kodie hasn’t had a good game. Every one of his attempts was thwarted by Rett or one of the other Seattle defensemen.

Kodie shouts something at the defenseman, but we’re too far away to hear.

Whatever it is has Rett’s entire body tensing before he spins around and gets in Kodie’s face, shouting right back.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Parker mutters.

Rage ripples from them, the air is thick with it as the rest of the players watch everything unfold before them.

I watch in horror as they rip their helmets off, sending them clattering to the ice.

“Kodie doesn’t fight,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sounds of the arena.

“That doesn’t look like a man who doesn’t fight,” Parker muses as Kodie rips his gloves off, standing skate to skate with Rett.

“You need to stop him,” I beg as I reach over and grip her forearm.

“I can’t. Even if I went down there and tried, that idiot doesn’t listen to me. And what exactly would I say? Please, big brother, don’t hit the player that Casey’s been secretly banging?”

“Christ,” I hiss, combing my hair back with my free hand.

Thankfully, Fletch, Linc, Handsy, and a few of Rett’s teammates pull them away from each other.

Nothing but potent irritation rolls off Kodie as Linc turns him away from Rett.

Just before he shoves him toward the gate, Kodie looks up.

My breath catches as our eyes collide.

Refusing to get lost in him—or give him any kind of indication that I care about how things ended the other night—I turn my back on him.

The second I do, I realize my mistake.

Or not…

My skin tingles. I don’t need to look back over my shoulder to know he’s glaring pure hate at my back. Or more specifically, my jersey.

“Oh shit,” Parker whispers. “He really doesn’t like that.”

Good.

“I don’t care what he does and doesn’t like,” I lie as I snatch my empty cups from the floor and stalk toward the stairs to leave.

“Casey, wait,” Parker calls, catching up with me as I storm down the stairs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Linc skating beside Kodie before they step off the ice and disappear.

Finally, I’m able to breathe.

Banging on the plexiglass rips my eyes back to the rink, and I find Rett pounding his fist on it, grinning up at his sister.

“Fucking moron,” Parker mutters. I glance back in time to see her flip him the bird, which he gives her one right back.

It’s easy to forget what a nightmare the two of them were growing up.

“I need another drink,” I mutter to myself as I round the corner.

“I didn’t think you wanted to stay,” Parker says, stepping up to me.

“I don’t. I’m not.” I’ve already explained to Dad that I’ve got an early start in the morning and that I’ll skip the after-game drinks so he’s not expecting to see me.

“Oh, come on. Just have one. I know Rett wants to catch up.”

“I can’t,” I argue. I don’t know if Kodie is going to be there. Dad mentioned that he’d asked Kodie to spend more time with the team off the ice, which explains his presence after the last few games. I can’t risk seeing him. My heart can’t take it.

“Okay,” she says, her hand squeezing mine in support.

“You should still go, though.”

“Without you? Not a chance. Come on.” She hooks her arm through mine, and together we walk toward the exit.

It feels wrong not to go up and commiserate with the team and their friends and family. But it’s not a place I can be tonight. The more space I put between me and Kodie right now, the better.

“One of my clients told me about this dessert restaurant with the most incredible cheesecake. We should go check it out.”

“As long as there aren’t any hockey players there, I’m in.”