Page 51 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

KODIE

K nock. Knock. Knock.

I shake my head as the hotel room door opens.

“Is it safe to enter?” Linc asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I messaged you, asshole.”

“No naked bodies?”

“No,” I sigh.

“Damn, that’s disappointing,” he announces, slamming the door closed and marching inside.

“Hey,” he says, finding me in bed watching TV. “Fun night?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Well, lucky for me, you’re a few miles apart, so there was no kissing…”

“You’re insufferable,” I complain.

“Maybe so, but you know you lucked out, getting me as a roomie.”

“Did I?”

“Hell, yeah. And anyway, who else would put up with your surly ass?”

He walks into the bathroom, leaving that question hanging in the air as he gives me little choice but to listen to him piss and then brush his teeth.

“Tonight fucking sucked, huh?” he finally says after stripping down to his boxers and falling into bed.

“We’ve had better games,” I mutter.

As much as I know we’re going to need to analyze what happened tonight, I’d rather just put it behind me and never think about it again.

“What’s the deal with you and Nash, anyway? He was an asshole last time we were here, but tonight, he was like a dog with a fucking bone.”

I shrug. “Fuck if I know.”

“You grew up together, didn’t you?”

“Stalker much?”

I find it weirdly endearing when Casey confesses to knowing details about my life that prove she’s done more than her fair share of Googling my name. But for Linc to do it? That’s just fucking weird.

“Might have looked you up when your trade was announced,” he admits.

“Lovely. Find anything worth noting.”

“Aside from the stats?”

“They speak for themselves,” I say confidently.

“Not as good as mine, but whatever.”

I scoff. “Believe what you want.”

“I’m serious, though. Did you fuck his future wife or something?”

I think back to our years together. “He’s never been serious enough about anyone to care about that shit.”

“So, you might have?”

“It was college, and we were horny hot-shot hockey players destined for the draft.”

“Say no more,” he says with a laugh.

“I dunno, man. After we got drafted, he just turned into a competitive asshole.”

“Fair enough. This life, the adoration, it can go to some guys’ heads.”

“Some guys,” I tease.

He shoots me a side-eye, and I can’t help but laugh.

“See,” he says, pointing right at me. “This is exactly what I was talking about earlier. You’re fucking laughing, man. It’s beautiful.”

“Uh…thanks, I think.”

“So, am I right to assume that your night improved once I left you alone?”

“Mmm.”

“Oh, come on, you gotta give me more than that.”

“It was great, and I’m feeling much more relaxed now. How’s that?”

“Barely scratches the surface, but whatever.”

“Seeing as you're back this early, I’m assuming it does more scratching than a bunny.”

“I wasn’t interested.”

“Oh? Trouble in paradise?”

“Nah, all’s good. It just…gets a bit much sometimes. I’m sure you remember.”

“Yeah,” I muse.

“So, what’s the plan now? We’re gonna be home for what? Just over a week?”

“I don’t know,” I confess.

“You want to see her, right? Continue what you’ve started?”

I shoot him a sideways glance.

“And you’re going to tell Coach.”

My body locks up at the suggestion.

“Kodie,” he warns.

“We’re not telling anyone anything.”

“But—”

“There are no buts. I don’t know what this is or where it’s going. It might be nothing.”

“You don’t want it to be, though, do you?”

I stay quiet as I roll that question around my head for a few minutes.

The honest answer is no. I don’t want this thing with Casey to be nothing. I want it to be something. No—I want it to be everything.

But is that nothing but a pipe dream?

Guys like me don’t end up with girls like her. At least, not guys who already have commitments and not enough time to give her the attention she deserves.

Being with me… she’d get short-changed. She can never be my number-one priority. Sutton will always come first. Thankfully, Linc doesn’t push for an answer. He doesn’t need to. He knows it just as much as I do.

Instead, we turn our attention to the TV and dissect the highlights of the other games tonight.

Tomorrow, we return home. This two-week stretch has been one of the longest I’ve ever experienced, and I’m more than ready for it to be over.

I wake with a start, my heart racing. Sitting up, I find the hotel room in darkness with Linc snoring beside me.

Reaching for my cell, I discover it’s only been thirty minutes since we switched the light out.

I lie back again, listening to the pounding of my heart as it begins to slow.

I stare up at nothing, and my mind runs away with itself.

I quickly find myself counting down the hours until I can see Casey again.

I told her to book the day off and demanded she send me her address, which she did instantly.

Was it a bit presumptuous of me to assume she’d be willing to drop everything to spend the afternoon together? Probably. Do I care? Not one single bit.

My need for her after our exchanges over the past two weeks knows no bounds.

It’ll be easier once I’ve had her. It will lessen, and I’ll be able to think straight again. Or at least, a little straighter.

Before I know what I’m doing, I have my cell in my hand, and I’ve pulled up one of the airline apps in my travel folder.

I tell myself that I’m just seeing if there are options. But I know it’s bullshit.

The second I see an earlier flight, I’m leaving.

Coach won’t care. I’ll bend the truth a little and say I had a family commitment come up. Tomorrow’s just a travel day. It’s not like anyone will miss me.

Ten minutes later, I’m the proud owner of a ticket for the first flight to LA, taking off in just over an hour.

Fuck.

I’m going home.

No, not home. I’m going to Casey. Right fucking now.

In a rush, I jump out of bed and pull on my suit before gathering up as much of my shit as I can find in the dark. Once I’m fairly confident I have all the important stuff, I throw my bag over my shoulder and tug my suitcase toward the door.

Linc doesn’t so much as stir.

With my palm pressed against the door, I close it slowly before pulling my cell out of my pocket and calling a car.

As I’m standing outside the hotel, I begin to second-guess my rash decision. But as the car pulls up, I figure it’s too late to back out now.

“Holy shit,” the driver gasps once I’ve climbed in. “You’re Kodie Rivers.”

“Hey,” I say, not really in the mood to talk.

“Shit, man. My kid loves you. Any chance you could sign something for me?”

“Sure thing.” He rummages around in his glove compartment before pulling out a battered old notebook. He finds a page and a pen and passes them back.

“Thanks, man. He’s not going to believe this. It’s going to make his whole year.”

I smile at him in the rearview mirror as I pass it back.

“Shit. Airport. Right, let’s go.”

As he sets off, I pull my cell out and open Instagram.

For my plan to work, I need some help, and there is only one person I can go to for it.

I glance at the time and cringe. If she doesn’t answer, I’m fucked, and all of this will be for nothing.

But if she does…