Page 61 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

KODIE

A s I get into position, ready for the puck to drop, the only thing I can think about is her.

I knew she’d be here tonight.

I also knew that seeing her was going to hit me like a fucking freight train. But the reality was way worse than I was expecting.

“Fuck,” I breathe, rubbing my gloved hand over the spot on my chest that hurts the most.

I know I’m doing the right thing by putting an end to all of this, so why does it hurt so much?

All I want to do is jump the board, pull her from her seat, and wrap her in my arms.

Fuck, I need her.

And that fucking annoys me. I’ve gone through life never needing anyone.

Sure, women have been useful over the years to give me the relief I craved. One—who I’d rather not think about—brought me the greatest gift of all, Sutton. But I’ve never needed one.

Until Casey.

I didn’t realize just how hard life was, how fucking miserable I was, until she crashed into my life. Hell, it isn’t really a life. More of an existence.

Of course, my life has meaning. I have Sutton and hockey. Both of those are more than enough to focus on and keep me busy. But I can’t say that I was really living.

Being with Casey…she sparked something inside me that I’m not sure ever existed before. Like a fuse just waiting to be lit.

Focus on your job.

Focus on the game.

Focus on the puck. On the win.

I almost feel like I’ve got it together, but then, I make the colossal mistake of looking back in her direction.

Sutton is on her feet, chanting with the rest of the crowd. But Casey...she’s…gone.

I stand frozen, staring at her empty seat as everything happens around me.

The puck is dropped, and Fletch wins it and takes off toward the goal.

“Rivers,” Killer barks as he shoots past me.

“Fuck,” I hiss, taking off to do my fucking job.

I don’t look up again until we change shifts, but even then, I keep my eyes down until I’m on the bench.

My body sags in relief when I discover she’s back.

Thank fuck.

The next time I hit the ice, I do it knowing she’s watching, and I put my all into it.

The ache in my chest never leaves, but as I make an assist, putting us in the lead, the pressure lessens.

At least I’m not fucking everything up.

The arena erupts as the final buzzer sounds, securing our first home win of the season, and the first thing I do is search for them in the crowd.

My girls.

She’s not yours anymore.

That reminder is like a bucket of ice water thrown right over me.

I go through the motions of celebrating our win before finally following the guys off the ice and toward the dressing room.

They’re all buzzing, already planning the rest of their night.

I barely listen to a word of it. I already know my plans, and they don’t involve discovering if Casey is going to be partying with the team or not.

I’m going to take Sutton home, listen to her analyze our game, and tell me all the things she thinks Coach needs to know.

A small smirk plays on my lips as I think of my girl.

She makes even the worst of days worth the effort. No matter how bad things get, I can always rely on her to make me smile.

“Come on, Big D. Just come for one,” Monroe begs, clearly oblivious to my current mood. Everyone else seems to understand, because they’ve mostly left me to myself.

“No,” I grunt as Coach steps inside the room to a round of cheers before he gives us his speech.

“Fletch, Rivers, you’re on post-game press. The rest of you, get the fuck out of here.”

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath. The last thing I want to do right now is answer questions.

Coach knows Sutton is here and that I’ll want to get back. He’s also more than aware that I choked out on the ice earlier tonight. He’s punishing me for it.

“Coach,” I mutter in agreement before reaching down to untie my skates.

Exhaustion seeps through my body, my joints aching.

It’s going to be a long time before I get home tonight.

I stand in the shower at home a few hours later with my hands pressed against the tiles, letting the water hit my shoulders and run down my back.

I messaged Mom before going to the press room, telling her to take Sutton home and that I’d meet them there.

It hadn’t been an overly brutal game, but I was in need of a session with Lennon before leaving the arena, and I didn’t want them waiting for me any longer than necessary.

We won tonight. If this were last week, I’d be waiting for a message from Casey to celebrate.

But this isn’t last week. It’s this week, and everything has gone to shit.

The only thrill I’m likely to get tonight is if I deliver it with my own hand.

A pained sigh slips past my lips.

Is Linc right?

Does any of the noise surrounding us really matter?

So what, her dad is my coach?

So what, she coaches my daughter?

Does any of that really matter if there’s something real between us?

Is it real, though?

All I do know is that what I feel when I’m with Casey, I’ve never experienced before.

But is that because it’s forbidden?

The thrill of the chase. Sneaking around in the shadows.

Is that what I really want, though?

She deserves so much more than to be someone’s dirty secret.

The man she’s with should be proudly walking around with her, showing her off, publicly claiming her as his—not sneaking around and hiding how they feel from the rest of the world.

As I watch the water swirl down the drain, I realize that I’m not getting any closer to the answers I need.

The only real thing I know is that I’m terrified.

Terrified to admit how I really feel about Casey, but at the same time petrified of doing anything about it.

There is so much at stake. So much at risk. Things that neither of us can afford to mess around with.

Reaching for the dial, I turn the shower off. With a towel wrapped around my waist, I pad to my bedroom, pull on a clean pair of boxers, and practically fall onto my bed.

Two ice bags sit on my nightstand, and I reach for them, placing them over my knees.

I can only assume the adrenaline ran out faster tonight, knowing that I don’t have Casey to come home to. But fuck, everything hurts. At least the pain in my chest has taken a back seat.

I’ve just gotten comfortable when my cell dings.

My heart jumps into my throat, but I quickly talk myself down.

It won’t be her.

I left her last message on read. That sent a very clear message.

But what if it is?

With my heart in my throat, I reach for it.

“Motherfucker,” I mutter when I see who the message is from.

Storm: Message her.

Kodie: Fuck you.

Storm: Not interested. But Casey is here, and she is looking F.I.N.E.

A growl rips up my throat. The thought of Linc, or anyone, touching her makes me feral.

My hand trembles as I angrily tap out a reply.

Kodie: Stay the fuck away from her.

Storm: Bro, you’re so fucked.

Kodie: You will be too, if you go anywhere near her.

Storm: Maybe you should come and make sure I don’t. Monroe is looking too…

He’s baiting me. I know he is. But fuck if there’s not a massive temptation to drag some clothes on and go and see for myself.

When another message comes through, I assume it’s Linc attempting to press a few more buttons, so when I pick my cell up and find someone else’s name, I almost drop it.

Trouble: Great game tonight. Sutton was so proud of you. She really is a great kid .

“Fuck,” I breathe.

Seeing them both up there in the crowd tonight, jumping up and down, screaming for us—for me—is a sight I’m not going to forget for a long time.

It was also a complete headfuck.

I have never, ever allowed any woman I’ve hooked up with anywhere close to Sutton.

Hell, in the early days before I swore off women, most of them didn’t even know I had a kid.

Easier that way. Less risk. Puck bunnies can be…

a lot. Thankfully, I’ve never experienced it, but I’ve had teammates who have had issues with stalking in the past. I never, ever want to subject Sutton to anything like that.

It was why I stepped away from that way of life.

Her safety was so much more important than me getting a bit of action.

Kodie: Thank you. And I agree, she’s the best.

Trouble: So’s her dad.

“Christ. You’re fucking killing me here.”

There are so many things I could reply with, but each one is more dangerous than the last.

In the end, I keep the focus on Sutton—also known as taking the pussy way out.

Kodie: Good luck tomorrow. Hopefully, you’ll secure a win too.

I shake my head as I let my cell drop to the bed.

I very rarely get nervous before games. I usually go through my routine exactly the same every time and I walk into the arena with my head held high and focused on what’s to come.

Okay, so recently the latter has been a bit of an issue, but despite being distracted by a certain blonde, I’m still not nervous.

But the morning of Sutton’s games? Fuck. They’re entirely different.

I’m a wreck.

I figured out a while ago that it’s because I’m not in control.

In contrast, Sutton is as cool as a cucumber.

She also has her little routine. Same breakfast every morning before a game. Then she hits the gym with me to warm up. Then she has to get dressed in certain clothes, pack her bag in a specific order, and then we have to listen to the same playlist I helped her set up last summer.

She really is just like one of the guys—only, funnier and cuter.

“You’re going to kill it today, Peanut,” I tell her as we step inside the arena.

She doesn’t respond, and I don’t expect her to. Now that we’re in the building, she’s in the zone.

I’m smiling, both amused and incredibly proud of my headstrong and determined little girl. But as we move toward her coaches, my smile begins to fade, and those nerves return with full force.

Today isn’t just another one of Sutton’s games. It’s a game with Casey as her coach. It’s a game where I’m going to have to sit here and have my chest ripped in two as I watch them communicate—and hopefully, celebrate—together.

My two worlds have collided, and it’s fucking me up.

It’s creating ideas and images in my head of the kind of future that could possibly be there.

I’m trying not to let myself run away with it all, because it’s a fickle dream that won’t come true.

But what if it could?

What if there is a woman out there who could slot into our lives? Be a partner for me and an incredible role model for Sutton?

No.

I shake my head, dragging my hand down my face.

Don’t go there, Rivers. It’s too fucking dangerous.

“Good morning, Rivers,” Casey calls once we’re close enough to hear.

My heart skips a beat, and it only gets worse when I discover that she’s not talking to me. All her focus is on Sutton. Right now, she’s Rivers, number fifty-five. It’s time for me to take a back seat, both in the game and with Casey.