Page 66 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

CASEY

W atching the Vipers battle and then still lose like they did last night hurts.

I might have watched through a screen, but I could feel their anguish and desperation as if I were on the ice with them.

But as bad as last night was, standing here now, watching my team of fierce girls fight the same ruthless battle, is even worse.

The sad part is, they’re not even the weaker team. They’ve just made a couple of mistakes that allowed their opponents to take advantage, and the ref doesn’t seem to be on our side.

Frustration oozes from the team as they fight to get the puck toward the goal, but none of them are trying harder to turn this game around than Sutton.

She’s a force to be reckoned with, but as of yet, she hasn’t managed to make a difference.

I want it for her. Just like I wanted it for Kodie last night.

But I couldn’t help then, and I can’t now. All I can do is scream and shout my support and hope it’s enough.

It won’t be.

I woke up yesterday with the hangover from hell. I’m pretty sure it was the worst one I’ve ever suffered. It was long after lunchtime before I was able to drag my ass out of bed and function like a normal person. And Parker wasn’t any better.

We ordered in coffee and food before collapsing on my couch with our heads pounding and stomachs swirling.

She was the one who found the images of me tagged on my Instagram account.

She also happily pointed out how hot I looked in the arms of Andrey Petrov and how Kodie would lose his mind if he saw them.

The thought made my heart flutter momentarily before it contracted painfully and I murmured that he’d moved on.

Parker didn’t want to accept my words, but thankfully, our food arrived and cut the conversation short.

I stand there helplessly as the minutes count down to the end of the game. The score is three-zero.

My heart is in my throat as our girls push harder and harder.

I glance at the time.

One more play.

One more chance to score.

I watch as Megan tells the girls which play, and after brief words among those on the ice, they line up for the puck drop.

The puck is dropped, and for what feels like the first time tonight, we win possession.

Our center shoots it to Mila, who quickly takes off, but her mark is right on her, stopping her from even attempting to shoot.

She looks up, searching for options as Sutton breaks free.

Oh my god.

My heart is in my throat as hope blooms inside me. Of course, we’re not going to win. But getting a goal in before the buzzer is still something.

Mila pulls her stick back, ready to pass, and I swear I watch in slow motion as the puck slides across the ice, right toward where Sutton is going to be able to pick it up and hopefully put it straight into the back of the net.

I swear, everyone holds their breath.

I gasp as the puck hits Sutton’s stick and she shoots.

But I don’t get to see if she scores—and neither does Sutton, because a defenseman from the other team suddenly slams into her, sending her flying backward.

“SUTTON,” I scream as I watch her small body leave the ice.

Oh my god.

She hits the ice hard, her head taking most of it, and my blood runs cold.

I’m moving before I even realize, jumping the boards and racing toward her lifeless body with my heart lodged in my throat.

There’s a flurry of movement behind me, but I don’t register any of it as I drop to my knees beside her.

“Sutton, Sutton? Are you okay?”

Despite desperately wanting to touch her, to pull her to me and hold her, I don’t. I know I can’t. It fucking kills me.

But not as much as her lack of reaction to my words.

Her eyes are closed, her face pale.

Oh my god.

“Call 911. Please, someone, call?—”

“It’s okay,” someone says from behind me, and when I look back, two EMTs are racing across the ice. “We’ll take over from here.”

Unable to do anything else, I take a step back.

My body trembles as I watch them check her vitals.

Despite her pads, she looks so tiny, so vulnerable.

That’s Kodie’s baby girl.

He’s never going to forgive you.

A sob rips from my throat, my hand coming up to cover my mouth in a pathetic attempt to smother it.

The EMTs speak to each other before one lifts a walkie-talkie from his shirt and then speaks into it. I don’t hear a word. I just watch in horror, praying that she’ll open her eyes.

But she never does.

I glance over my shoulder, finding that Megan and the parents who traveled to this game are comforting the others, trying to keep them distracted, but their wretched expressions are clear from here.

“We’re going to take her in,” the EMT says, dragging my attention back to where he’s sitting alone beside Sutton. “Are you?—”

“Her coach. I’m her coach. I’m coming with you,” I say before he has a chance to continue. “I’ll call her father; he’ll meet us there,” I say, but as I do, reality settles. He’s on a plane right now, flying home from last night’s game.

“What’s going on?” Aurora’s mom says, having left her daughter with the rest of the team to join us.

Her face is pale; her eyes wide.

She brought Sutton to this game, along with Aurora and Mila.

I close my eyes briefly, thinking of the times I’d carpool with teammates for road games. The drive home with friends after a win was such a high. Being together also made the losses sweeter.

None of these girls are going to experience that today, though. Not having witnessed this.

“They’re taking her in,” I say, my voice weak. “She’s still unconscious.” My eyes drop where she’s still lying on the ice.

I want to help. I want to make it better. I want…I want everything I can’t fucking do.

“She’ll be okay,” Aurora’s mom says, her eyes also focused on Sutton’s motionless body.

God, I hope she’s right.

Calling Kodie to say there was an accident will be one thing, but calling him with worse news…

Acid churns in my stomach, burning up my throat.

No, that’s not going to happen.

She’s going to be okay.

Aurora’s mom and I step back, allowing the EMTs to roll Sutton onto a stretcher.

“Look after the girls. I’m going with her,” I say before hurrying after the stretcher.

“Casey,” Megan cries. When I glance back, I find that she’s untangled herself from the team and is racing after me.

“Look after the girls,” I tell her. “I’ll message you where we are.”

“Are you sure? I can?— ”

I glance up at the horrified faces watching us.

“I won’t leave her side. I’ll call Kodie and Kathleen.”

“No, I can?—”

“I’ve got this. I’ll message you,” I call as I chase after the EMTs who rush down a hallway now that they’re off the ice.

The second they have her loaded into an ambulance, I jump in beside her, taking her hand as we immediately take off.

“I’ve got you, Sutton. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to call your dad and?—”

“Don’t,” a little voice whispers.

My heart jumps into my throat, and I surge to my feet, ignoring the glare from the EMT.

I stare into her eyes, my muscles relaxing sightly.

“I’m okay,” she says softly.

“Sweetie, you’ve been unconscious. You?—”

“Please, please don’t tell him. He’ll worry.”

My nose itches with emotion, my eyes burning as tears flood them.

“That’s his job to worry about you,” I assure her.

“He should be focusing on the game. Last night…”

I hang my head as her words trail off.

She saw Kodie losing his shit and getting thrown in the box.

“He’s not…he needs…” I squeeze my eyes closed, hating that she’s got to witness all of this. But then she says one final word that has my eyes popping open again. “You.”

All the air rushes from my lungs as the ambulance takes a corner, making me stumble.

“Miss, please sit down,” the EMT instructs.

I’m too stunned to do anything but what I’m told, and my ass hits the seat once again.

T he next two hours are a blur of activity as Sutton is admitted to the ER and checked over.

I try calling Kodie, but as we both know, he’s currently on a flight home.

He’s going to lose his shit when he lands. I left a voicemail for him to call me. But the second he sees my name, he’s going to know that something is wrong.

I speak to Kathleen and assure her that Sutton has been fully checked over and is okay. She took quite a hit and has a mild concussion. She was lucky, but there’s no doubt that she’ll feel it for a few days.

I press my hand to my chest, rubbing as I remember the pain of a hard hit.

Kathleen promises to be waiting for Kodie when he lands so they can drive here immediately.

As if turning his cell on to find a voicemail from me isn’t going to be bad enough. Finding his mom waiting is going to finish him off.

After I’ve assured her once again that Sutton is okay, I promise to message her our new location and hang up.

My entire body is trembling with adrenaline and nerves.

“Is everything okay?” Sutton asks when I step back into her bay.

I smile at her, trying to smother how I really feel.

“Of course. Your gran is going to pick your dad up the second he lands, and they’ll come here.”

“They don’t need?—”

“Sutton,” I say softly. “There is nowhere else in the world your father will want to be than by your side.”

“But I’m okay,” she argues.

Reaching out, I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Even when you’re okay, it’s his job to worry about you. You heard the doctor. They want to keep you here overnight just to be safe. He’ll want to be right here with you.”

She smiles, knowing that I’m right.

Suddenly, sadness washes across her face, and her bottom lip begins to tremble. I shift closer, my hand holding her tightly as her first sob breaks free. “I miss him,” she cries.

Me too, Sutton.

Me too.