Page 57 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

KODIE

I glance at my watch, hating that Sutton’s training session is in five minutes and I’m stuck here.

Usually, I love spending time inspiring young hockey players, but right now, this event for high school players hoping for a future in the league is the last place I want to be.

I want to see my girl cutting up the ice and getting ready for her game on Sunday.

Hell, I wanted to pick her up from school and be a dad to her again while I’m at home, but after a strength and conditioning session and an afternoon on the ice, then having to race across town to get here on time, it just wasn’t going to happen.

Hailee, our director of public relations, wanted as many of us here as possible and wasn’t accepting any excuses to get out of it.

She might only be five-foot-two with a waist that’s probably smaller than my thigh, but she’s a force to be reckoned with. None of the guys say no to her. I understand why, too. I’ve heard the stories of the kinds of things she makes you do if you don’t follow along with her plans.

I smirk as I remember a story Linc told me about the time she forced Killer to spend an afternoon at our local bird sanctuary after he refused to attend some other event she’d planned.

He’s shit scared of birds and had to stand there with a glove on as an eagle of some sort landed on his arm and ate a dead chick from his hand.

Not his finest moment, but it’s safe to say, he’s never refused to follow orders since.

Something tells me Hailee knows most of the guys’ secrets and is more than willing to use them against us.

She sure as hell knows my weakness—youth hockey. Especially girls’ youth hockey. Sutton has opened my eyes to just how lacking the support is. I’ll do anything to help raise awareness and open the opportunity for more girls to get involved.

I watch the rest of my teammates chat to the boys who’ve come. They sign whatever they’re handed, laugh, and give advice where necessary. It’s great, but I can’t help but feel like something is missing.

All the young athletes here are male. Of course, that might be because there aren’t many girls interested in hockey at this school, but I find that hard to believe.

“Hey, sorry. Is there any chance I could get your autograph?” a boy, probably no older than fourteen, asks, handing me a Vipers jersey and a marker pen.

“Of course,” I say with a smile, reaching for the pen.

“Thank you so much. My sister is going to be so stoked. She loves you.”

“She should have come,” I say absently as I sign the fabric.

“She’s outside with a couple of friends,” he admits.

“Why?”

“They wanted to see if any other girls turned up. I’ve tried telling them that this event is for everyone, but they feel a bit awkward.”

“That’s bull—” I just about manage to cut myself off.

“I agree. It is bullshit.” He lowers his voice. “Bailey is a better hockey player than most of the guys here.”

“Is that right?” I muse. “You wanna take me out to meet her?”

“U-uh…” he stutters, looking around at the crowds of boys waiting their turn to speak to their idols. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, of course. We’re meant to be inspiring hockey players of the future, and your sister is a player, right?”

“Yeah. Her dream is to play in the Olympics,” he explains.

“Okay then, lead the way.”

He spins around and marches across the room like a man on a mission, and I don’t waste a second following him.

We’re almost at the door when someone shouts my name, forcing me to stop.

“Where are you going?” Hailee asks as she storms over, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

I might want to leave so I can go and watch Sutton, but she should know that I’d never walk out of an event like this without at least clearing it with her.

“Going to meet someone outside.”

Her eyes narrow even more, if that’s possible.

“It’s my sister,” the kid explains. “She and her friends didn’t want to come in and?—”

“Come on,” I say, gesturing for Hailee to follow us. It won’t be a bad thing for our PR director to experience firsthand just how little support the girls get compared to the boys.

I squint as we step out into the bright late afternoon sunlight and scan the area.

Over on the left, sitting on a bench, are three girls.

They’re too busy chatting to notice as we move toward them, but it only takes a couple of seconds for the middle one to notice our approach, and her eyes widen and her chin drops.

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

The other two look at her with wrinkled brows until they follow her line of sight.

“Oh my god,” they both repeat simultaneously.

“Afternoon, ladies. Which one of you is Bailey?” I ask as they continue to freak out.

“Uh…m-me,” the middle one stutters before surging to her feet and sticking her hand out. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re standing right in front of me.”

All the blood has drained from her face as she lifts her hand to cover her mouth. I’m pretty sure she’s seconds away from passing out.

“God, I’m so sorry,” she says in a rush.

“It’s okay. Here, your brother asked me to sign this for you,” I say, holding out the jersey that’s still in my hand.

“Wow, that’s…” She turns her attention briefly to her brother, her eyes filling with tears. “Did you really ask him to do that?” she asks in disbelief.

Her brother shrugs as if it’s nothing.

“Your brother tells me that you play. That you’re hoping for a chance at the Olympics.”

She nods frantically. “Y-yeah. I mean, that’s the dream.”

“What about your friends?” I ask, casting them all glances.

“We play, but we’re not as good as Bailey,” one of them explains.

“Tell me about your team, and your plans for the future,” I prompt. Looking at them, I’d say they’re older than the boy who approached me. Fair play to that kid; he deserves Brother of the Year for what he just did.

Bailey chats away, barely coming up for air.

“You know, you deserve to be in there just as much as all the boys.”

“I know,” she says softly. “It’s just awkward.”

“The problem is,” one of her friends pipes up, “Bailey could outscore any of the boys in there. That makes her a target. They all refuse to believe they could be beaten by a girl. But they would be.”

I nod, not doubting a word of it.

“I know a little girl a bit like that,” I muse, thinking of Sutton.

I hate that there’s a chance she could still be experiencing the bullshit with Adrian into her teen years. I hate even more that it could get worse. Right now, it’s just one boy, but by the time she’s in high school, I do not doubt that it’ll be more.

“I’d love to come and catch one of your games sometime,” I say, even more convinced that she’s going to hit the deck any moment.

“Oh my god, stop. You’re kidding, right?”

“Absolutely not. This sport needs more girls like you, Bailey. All girls’ and women’s teams deserve the attention the male teams get. You’re just as talented, and with everything you face, you’re much more resilient.”

“Wow, that’s just…wow.”

“You should call your team, get them down here. The Vipers would love to talk to them.”

She nods enthusiastically as her friends pull their cell phones out.

After getting her head coach’s name, and a million and one thank yous from the girls, Hailee and I head back inside.

“That was a really nice thing to do.”

“I don’t need to tell you that growing awareness for women’s ice hockey is one of my passions.” Hailee is more than aware. I’ve turned up in her office on more than one occasion demanding equal representation with our charity work and affiliations with youth teams.

“It’ll happen,” she promises me.

“Maybe you can come to one of their games with me. Meet the staff and the girls. See if there’s something we can do,” I suggest hopefully.

“When you get the dates, send them on.”

I nod, accepting her words before glancing at my watch again.

“Am I keeping you from something, Rivers?”

“Sutton is training. I haven’t seen her on the ice for a couple of weeks.”

A soft smile appears on her lips. “Go,” she whispers.

“Really?” I ask, afraid to get my hopes up.

The guys have still got a few hours here yet. The number of boys in the room is only growing.

“Yes. You just made that girl's entire year by making her feel seen. You validated her as an athlete. She’ll never forget it. Now, go and see your little ice demon. Go and make her smile as well. She deserves it. She’s been a long time without her daddy.”

“You’re the best, Hails,” I say before rushing out of the building as fast as my legs will take me.

I don’t bother saying goodbye to anyone; they’ll all understand.

I’m in my car and heading across town in only a few minutes.

I make a quick pit stop for a packet of Hershey’s Kisses, Sutton’s favorite treat, before pulling up to the arena. No sooner have I killed the engine, am I on my feet and racing toward the rink where I know Sutton is going to be.

I hear them long before I see them, their high-pitched voices shouting and cheering each other on, their passion and dedication clear in their voices.

They may all be under eight, but it doesn’t matter; hockey is their everything. This time on the ice will hands down be the best part of their day.

I remember it well.

With a fond smile playing on my lips, I round the final corner. The rink appears before me. The girls always look so tiny out there, even in their pads. I’m so used to the guys cutting up the ice that it always takes me by surprise to see their small bodies flying around.

I watch them shooting pucks into an open goal two at a time as I approach.

Sutton doesn’t see me; she’s too focused on her next turn.

I stand there at the boards on the other side of the rink to the rest of the parents as Megan, her head coach, shoots a puck toward Sutton.

She catches it instantly before skating forward and shooting.

I holler the second it hits the back of the net, and Sutton spins around with a wide smile on her face that makes my heart tumble in my chest.

“Daddy,” she mouths.

She skates up and presses her gloved hands to the plexiglass.

I do the same.

“You came,” she shouts.

“I managed to get away early.”

Her smile widens.

“Gran is over there,” she shouts, pointing over her shoulder. “Go and watch.”

Lifting my eyes, I look across the rink. But Mom isn’t the first person I find.

Instead, my eyes lock onto another familiar set of eyes.

A green set.

A set that I can’t stop fucking thinking about.

Confusion wars within me as she stands like a rabbit in headlights.

“What’s Casey Watson doing here?” I don’t mean to say the words out loud, but they spill from my lips regardless.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Sutton shouts. “She’s our new coach.”