Page 65 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

KODIE

R olling over, I reach for my cell and wince as the screen lights up.

I turn the alarm off, and my thumb hovers over the Instagram app.

I shouldn’t look, I know that. But I also knew that the other million times I’ve opened it and tapped on Casey’s name since I ended it with her.

I told myself that it would help me move on if I were to see her doing the same.

She may have only posted a couple of times, but seeing her smiling face had the opposite reaction.

It didn’t make anything easier. Instead, it made the pain worse.

But apparently, I’m a masochist, and despite knowing it’ll hurt, I do the same as all the other times I’ve opened this app.

This time, though, the pain in my chest when I see her isn’t my only reaction.

Anger and jealousy surge through me at the sight of her with another man.

This is what you wanted , a little voice pipes up, my grip tightening on my cell and my heart rate becoming more and more erratic as I swipe through the images.

She’s dancing with a Bandit.

And not just any fucking Bandit.

Andrey Petrov.

Fuck me. I might be straight, but even I can admit that the guy is good-looking. It’s understandable why bunnies literally trip over themselves to get close to him.

But last night, he didn’t have his sights set on a bunny.

He had his sights on what’s mine.

I sit up straight, possessiveness taking over me as my hand trembles with my need to do something.

Each image is worse.

Acid swirls in my stomach as I look at someone else touching Casey.

My Casey.

“Fuck,” I hiss before launching from the bed and racing to the bathroom before I vomit in the toilet.

You let her go.

She can be with anyone she wants now.

Casey doesn’t hook up with players.

But images don’t lie. And those pictures drip with evidence of what happened last night.

I retch again, but nothing comes up as the band that’s been wrapped around my chest tightens once again.

I can barely fucking breathe without her.

But it’s the right thing to do.

Using the sink for support, I drag myself to my feet. Running the faucet, I splash cold water on my face, hoping for a miracle.

I’ve got to be at the airport in an hour for our game tonight. I don’t have time to lose my shit right now.

I need to focus on my job, not lose myself over the fact Casey has done exactly what I pushed her to do.

She’s moved on.

“ F uck,” Linc mutters as he drops into the seat beside me on the team’s private plane almost two hours later.

Grabbing my cell that’s sitting in my lap, I turn my music up.

I’m not one to talk during our flights. I prefer to put my AirPods in and get in the zone, ready for what lies ahead.

All the guys have their rituals, from where we sit, to what playlists we listen to, or what games we play. We thrive on it, and if anyone fucks up our routines…well, we all know we’re risking our game.

“What the fuck?” I bark after Linc pulls one of my earphones free.

He smirks at me as he curls his fingers around the device, letting me know that I’m not getting it back anytime soon.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, turning to look out the window as the last of the guys and staff board.

“It’s not how it looked,” he says quietly.

My teeth grind as I breathe deeply through my nose.

“I was there. Marilyn was too. Nothing happened with Petty, man.”

I tense as his words and reassurance flow through me. But I still don’t say a word.

“I know you’re listening, and I know you know what I’m talking about. It’s all over her fucking Instagram. She’s gonna be pissed when she sees it.”

I close my eyes, hating that his words are working.

Block it out, Rivers.

Focus on the game.

“Even if she was interested, I never would have let her out of my sight. I’ve got you, man,” he says cockily.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” I whisper, the words out before I can stop them.

He chuckles, happy that he’s got me.

Dropping my head forward, I rest my brow against the wall as the plane begins to taxi.

Around us, the attendants begin their preflight safety announcement.

I can guarantee not a single person is listening.

We fly multiple times a week. It’s just white noise to us at this point.

“You didn’t need to. I’ve got your back. Hers too.”

“You should have gone home and got a good night's sleep. We need you on form tonight.”

“I’ll be fine. Probably more than I can say about Casey. She was wasted by the end of the night.”

Turning around, I glare at him.

All he does is fucking laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m not seeing the fucking funny side of all this, Storm.”

He shakes his head, a look that is a little too close to pity for my liking passing across his face. “That’s because you’re in so deep you can’t fucking see straight. Jesus, Rivers. Pull your head out of your ass and open your fucking eyes.”

“W-what?”

“You’re in love with her,” he states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m not?—”

Linc throws his head back and laughs as we take off.

“Fuck me, you’re so fucking delusional.”

Giving me an out, he finally opens his palms, revealing my stolen AirPod.

“Fuck you, Storm. Fuck you,” I state, snatching my earbud back and stuffing it into my ear.

He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the fight, but that doesn’t mean his words don’t continue to circle around my head.

What he said…

I shake my head.

Mom said the same.

She looked me in the eye, her face all soft and hopeful, and expressed her happiness that I’d finally found someone who made me smile.

She didn’t care about all the reasons we couldn’t be together. She said it was white noise.

Love and happiness are more important than the rules , she said.

But it’s not that fucking simple.

T he game is…awful.

Worst of the season so far.

We don’t just lose. We get fucking annihilated.

And worse than that. It’s my fault.

Two goals were scored against us while I was in the penalty box.

I’m fucking embarrassed by my performance tonight. And it only gets worse when I think about both Casey and Sutton watching it.

Casey is out there living her life, and here I am fucking drowning in front of the fucking world.

After an ass-ripping from Coach, I crash into our hotel room, ready to set the world alight.

Linc follows me in, his concerned stare burning into my back as I stalk toward the windows and stare out at yet another city.

After all my years of traveling, they’ve started to blur into one.

“Rivers, you need?—”

“Stop,” I beg. “Whatever you’re going to say, just fucking stop.”

“Call her,” he says, ignoring my plea.

“I can’t,” I seethe. “It’s over.”

“Says who?”

I bite back my response, my teeth grinding and my fists curling.

“You? You’re a fucking idiot. She fucking loves you, man.”

Spinning around, I glare at him, my words spilling free. “Oh yeah? She wasn’t fucking showing that last night, was she?”

“She’s miserable.”

“And she found comfort in the arms of another man. ”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Did you hear anything I said earlier?” he shouts as if I’m deaf.

“A picture paints a thousand words. I saw them all, Storm. I saw his hands all over her.”

“Yeah? And do you know what you didn’t see?” he says, prowling closer, his face set as if he’s waiting for the puck to drop on our last chance to win a game.

My lips thin and my eyes narrow. I don’t need to say anything; I know he’s about to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.

“You didn’t see me escorting her out of that club. Her and Parker. There were no Bandits in sight. She didn’t want Petty. She wasn’t interested in Westie, or any of them. All she wants is you, you fucking moron. I took her home and?—”

I see fucking red.

I surge forward, my hands press against Linc’s chest, forcing him back until he collides with the wall.

We stand nose to nose.

“What do you think I did, Rivers?” Linc taunts, staring right into my eyes.

My chest heaves as I fight to drag in the air I need.

“She was wasted. The bandit assholes wanted a piece—” A growl rips up my throat at his words. “But I wasn’t letting that happen. No motherfuckers touch what’s ours, Rivers.”

His words touch something inside of me, and I relax.

“Ours?” My brows pinch.

“Yours,” he corrects.

Silence falls between us, only the sound of our increased breathing filling the room.

“Call her,” he finally says. “Tell her how you feel. Tell her you made a mistake. Tell her you fucking miss her.”

I release a breath and I take a step back.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink with the guys. I’ll message you when I’m leaving. If you need more time, I can crash with Handsy and Killer.”

I stand at the end of my bed as if I don’t belong while he strips out of his suit and pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

“Good luck,” he states before dropping his cell into his pocket and marching out of our hotel room.

The slam of the door echoes around me, but I still don’t move.

I have so many reasons not to do as he suggests.

But…do any of them really matter?

Slowly and methodically, I strip out of my shirt and slacks before falling onto my bed wearing just my boxers.

I unlock my cell, and it opens on my pregame good luck message from Sutton. Disappointment in myself floods through me. She will have watched a good portion of the game tonight. She’ll have seen some less-than-professional moves. Tonight, I wasn’t a good role model, and I hate myself for it.

I let my anger and frustration get the better of me. I should be better than that.

Tapping out of our conversation, I scroll down and find my abandoned one with Casey.

My chest compresses as I read through our last words to each other.

Pain shoots through me.

I miss you.

Harboring every ounce of strength I have, I begin typing out a message.