Page 59 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

KODIE

T he number of times I typed and deleted different versions of that same message was a joke.

But I couldn’t help it.

I’m freaking out.

When Sutton told me about her new coach, I didn’t give it a another thought. I certainly didn’t consider for one second that it could have been Casey.

I mean, why would it have been?

As far as I know, she’s never done anything like that before or even been interested in it.

A bitter laugh spills from my lips.

How the fuck would I even know?

I don’t know Casey.

We might have spent hours talking over the past two weeks, but our conversations have been a little one-tracked.

We haven’t really talked about our hopes and dreams for the future.

We haven’t talked about our fears or our insecurities.

We’ve talked about—and had—a lot of sex.

And we talked about hockey. Lots of hockey.

I mean, I’m not complaining. It’s been fucking epic.

But walking into the arena and finding her coaching Sutton and the girls tonight proved to me how little I know the woman slowly taking over my life.

Since Sutton told me about her new coach, she’s only had good things to say. It only occurs to me now that she never told me her name.

But why? It’s not like Sutton to leave details out.

The message is read almost instantly, but it takes at least a minute for the dots to bounce. My heart lurches into my throat.

I didn’t send that message to invite a reply. In fact, I settled on it in the hope she’d decide against replying.

I’m doing the right thing by cutting this off before we get in any deeper.

She’s the daughter of my coach.

She’s the coach of my daughter.

Fuck me, this is beyond complicated.

It’s better to end it now.

It’ll be easier this way.

We can focus on what’s really important.

Our jobs.

The dots continue bouncing, making the dread that’s only been growing since I walked out of the arena and away from her earlier to get heavier and heavier in my gut.

I was an asshole to her.

Mom chastised me over it the second Sutton was out of earshot, demanding to know what my problem was.

Of course, I didn’t tell her.

But I have a feeling she might be seeing a hell of a lot more than I want her to.

Those hickies on my neck after I spent the night with her, and then my reaction today.

Fuck.

I need to lock it down.

Mom knowing is one thing.

Linc is another.

But anyone else?

Combing my hair back from my face, I tug until it hurts.

But still, the dots keep bouncing.

I’m either going to receive the world’s longest reply, or she’s doing exactly what I was before I sent that message.

Write.

Delete.

Write.

Delete.

I hate that I could be causing her pain.

I just…why didn’t she tell me?

Anger bubbles under the surface, battling with a million other emotions I’m struggling to get in line.

Getting frustrated with those dots, I abandon my cell on the bed and throw my legs off the side.

I need to move. I need to?—

Everything stops when my cell pings, the screen lighting up.

She replied.

There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to look.

I just want to forget all about this afternoon.

If I’d just stayed talking to those kids…

No, I needed to know the truth. Who the hell knows when she was going to tell me?

“Fuck,” I hiss before reaching for my phone and tapping on the notification.

Trouble: I’m so sorry.

That’s it?

All those bouncing dots, and that’s all she has to say?

“Fuck. FUCK,” I roar, throwing my cell back down, tugging on a pair of sweatpants, and marching to my home gym.

I don’t stand a chance of sleeping now.

T he next two days pass in a blur of confusion.

I never hear anything else from Casey, and I don’t catch a single sight of her at the arena.

I know she’s there, working upstairs, but at no point do I go in search of her.

I have no idea what I’d say even if I did see her.

I’m torn between pulling her into my arms and kissing the life out of her or shouting at her for lying to me and leaving me feeling like she’s ripped something out of my chest.

I fucking hate it.

I’m off my game. I’m fucking awful company to be around—even worse than usual.

My teammates have seen it. My coaches have seen it.

Hell, even Sutton has asked me what’s wrong.

It’s fucking embarrassing.

I’m a professional athlete. I’m a father. And yet I’ve been completely thrown off track by a five-foot-something woman with pretty blonde hair and stunning green eyes.

My gear bag lands on the floor at my feet with a loud thud as I fight to keep my groan inside.

We’ve got our first home game of the season tomorrow, and I’m going to find my ass benched if I can’t sort this shit out.

“Daddy,” Sutton squeals, her tiny feet pounding against the floor as she runs to me.

“Hey, Peanut,” I say, trying to shove everything else aside.

She’s already in her pajamas and ready for bed.

I wanted to get home earlier tonight, but practice ran over, and then I had a PT session.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asks excitedly.

“You know it,” I lie.

I feel less prepared for a game than I have in my entire life.

I just can’t get my head in it.

I’m always looking over my shoulder, expecting her to come and visit Coach. Every tap of heels, I think it’s her. Every sweet female scent, my brain tells me it’s her, even if it smells nothing like her.

It’s driving me fucking crazy.

We weren’t even a thing, and yet not seeing her, not talking to her…it’s like I’ve lost one of the most essential parts of my life.

“Come on, we made cookies,” Sutton says, wriggling out of my arms before taking my hand and dragging me toward the kitchen.

“Oh wow, these look amazing,” I say, taking in their handiwork.

“Here you go,” Sutton says, proudly handing me the jersey-shaped Polar Bears blue and yellow iced cookie with the number fifty-five written on it.

“Thanks, Peanut.”

“Before the game tomorrow, we’re going to make them for the Bears. I think Casey will love them.”

My breath catches at the sound of her name, successfully inhaling a bit of cookie. I fight the cough, but it’s no use.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Sutton asks with a concerned frown as I attempt not to cough up a lung.

“Uh huh,” I grunt as I take the glass of water Mom is holding out for me. “Your team will love that,” I add once I’m able to speak again.

“Why don’t you go and brush your teeth, sweetie? Your dad will be up in a few minutes.”

“Ow.” Sutton might complain, but she doesn’t hesitate to follow the rules.

“Get your book ready,” I say. “We’re going to finish it tonight, aren’t we?”

“Yep. And they’re going to win the championship,” she shouts before disappearing around the corner.

Mom waits until Sutton’s footsteps fade away before she speaks. “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”

“Mom,” I breathe.

“What? It’s eating at you, and I don’t need to be at practice to know it’s affecting you on the ice.”

I stare at her. “There’s nothing wrong with my game,” I say defensively.

“I know you, Kodie,” she says.

“Great,” I mutter, backing out of the room. Sutton won’t be close to being ready yet, but I need to get away from this.

I’m not ready to talk about her, confess my mistakes, or have Mom look at me with disappointment.

I’m just…

Fucking hell, I’m a mess.

“I’m just gonna…” I thumb over my shoulder before turning my back on her.

I’ve just stepped into the hallway when the doorbell rings.

I pause, not used to hearing the sound. No one ever comes here, and I’m not expecting a delivery.

“I’ll get it. You go and spend time with Sutton,” Mom says, stepping up behind me.

“Just get rid of them,” I mutter before taking the stairs two at a time and leaving her to it.

Sutton is still in her bathroom when I get there. I lower my ass to her bed and arrange her stuffies in the way I know she likes. Anything to attempt to keep my mind from wandering to Casey.

It’s Friday. She’s probably getting ready to go out with Parker.

Closing my eyes, I can see her as clear as day, putting on a sexy dress and some fuck-me heels.

My fists curl at the thought of other men leering at her.

Something explodes within me the second I think about her dancing with someone, his hands all over her.

I shoot to my feet, unable to remain sitting as the image plays out like a movie in my head.

Will she invite him back to her apartment? Will she let him fuck her in the same bed I did?

My heart races and my hands tremble as I remember us together, getting tangled up in her sheets. But it’s not my face; it’s a stranger touching what’s mine.

“I’m ready,” Sutton sings, bouncing into the room before diving onto her bed and snuggling under the covers.

Focus on your daughter, Kodie.

Focus on your job.

I spend just over thirty minutes with Sutton.

I read the final two chapters of her book before we spend ten minutes reviewing the characters and the plot.

My girl is nothing but critical, but I love that she’s able to give constructive feedback.

I’m not sure Coach feels the same, but he always humors her.

Seeing Casey coaching Sutton’s team the other day made me wonder just how much he really does understand. Was Casey the same when she was little? Sutton said Casey used to play, but did she also tell her dad and his coach how to improve their games like Sutton does?

After turning her night light on, I walk across her room and pull her door closed, wishing her a good night before heading back downstairs.

I’m aware that I’m probably about to walk directly into a one-woman firing squad, but locking myself in my bedroom will only make this all worse.

But when I get to the kitchen, it’s empty.

I frown, looking around to see where she’s hiding.

Movement in the yard catches my eye, and I groan the second I discover who was at my front door on a Friday night.

I step out to the sound of Mom’s voice. “Ah, here he is. You’ve got a friend,” she says as if I’m ten.

“I thought I said to get rid of whoever it was,” I mutter.

“Lovely,” Linc teases, lifting his bottle of beer to his lips, looking comfortable as fuck on my lounger. “Grab a beer, man. We’re chilling.”

“Are we?” I question suspiciously.

“Yes, you are,” Mom agrees, pulling a bottle from beside Linc’s lounger, popping the top, and passing it over. “I’m going out in twenty minutes, so you’ll have the place to yourself. It was great seeing you, Lincoln. Good luck tomorrow night.”

Mom spins on her heels and marches toward the pool house.

“Dude, I think your mom just winked at me,” Linc teases.

“For the love of God,” I mutter as I drop to the lounger beside his. “Why are you here?”

“You know, it’s so fucking awesome to feel wanted,” he deadpans.

“Mmm.”

“I thought it was for the best I come and bang your head against a wall so you can focus tomorrow night. We can’t lose our first game of the season on our own ice.”

“We won’ t,” I assure him.

“We will if you can’t pull your head out of your ass. The fuck is going on? You and Casey fallen out already?”

“Don’t,” I warn.

“Try again. I’m not leaving until we’ve talked this out.”

“What are we? Thirteen-year-old girls having a slumber party?”

“I mean, I’m down for a pillow fight if you are.”

“Fucking moron,” I mutter, taking a pull on my beer.

“Come on, hit me with it.”

I’d rather just fucking hit him.

“Casey is Sutton’s new coach.”

Linc takes a few seconds to digest my words before he turns to look at me with his brows pinched.

“So?”