Page 9 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

CASEY

S afe to say, I didn’t get much sleep Friday night.

All night, I chastised myself.

Firstly, for being so lost in the moment that I managed to dislodge his mask. If I didn’t do that, how long would it have continued for?

Or was it always going to end there?

I might have since left my hotel room, but the memories of my night with Kodie Rivers will stay with me forever. But the moment he walked away without looking back…that one is going to haunt me.

One question has cycled round and round my head ever since the moment the lock clicked into place…

Should I have removed my mask?

I know the real answer.

I’d have put Kodie in an awful position, forcing him to either own up or keep a secret from one of the most important men in his life. From his teammates.

I couldn’t do that to him.

Just like I would never, ever sell our story from that night.

The details are going to my deathbed.

A smile plays on my lips as I think about it.

It was everything I hoped it would be.

Do I wish I could do it all over again? Of course I do. I’d never say no to another round with Kodie Rivers.

Do I think it will ever happen? Nope. Not a chance.

And do you know what? I’m surprisingly okay with that.

I set out that night with one quest in mind, and I succeeded.

I’m one happy and satisfied girl.

Or at least, that’s what I tell myself as I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at myself.

My hair is finally back to the color it should be, after four washes.

Now, I’m just me again and no one is any the wiser.

Casey Watson, daughter of the infamous LA Vipers ice hockey coach, James Watson.

A pained sigh falls from my lips.

It was fun being someone else for the night.

Being wild.

I may never have done anything as risky as that before, but it was a little reminder that Fun Casey still exists somewhere.

Somewhere between work and life, I’ve lost her. It was nice reconnecting with her, even if it was only for a few hours.

Scraping my hair back into a ponytail, I apply a light coat of makeup before returning to my bedroom, stuffing my feet into my sneakers, and swiping my bag from the floor.

It’s Sunday morning, and there’s only one place I need to be right now.

Nerves flutter in my stomach as I drive toward the arena, despite the chance of seeing him being slim.

Unless the guys have a Sunday home game, they’ll be enjoying a well-deserved day of rest. Dad should be, too. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t bumped into him here before now.

Unlike usual, when I pull up outside, I pause for a moment.

At some point, I’m going to have to face him. But as much as that terrifies me, I think him glancing my way and dismissing me is worse than him learning the truth.

Will I be able to live with being such an inconsequential part of his life when he has always been such a huge part of mine ?

Swallowing down the inevitable disappointment, I kill the engine and shove the door open.

With my bag and my skates over my shoulder, I head inside.

“Casey,” the young girl behind reception says with a smile as I walk inside. “You’re late this morning.”

“Busy weekend,” I lie.

I may have had a wild Friday night, but since returning home the next morning, I haven’t left the apartment.

“Well, hopefully an hour on the ice will sort you out.”

Here’s hoping.

“Thank you,” I say softly before walking farther into the building that’s basically been my second home all my life.

Before Dad started coaching here, he was a proud LA Vipers winger. To this day, he still leads the team in the most goals scored in a career.

A few have come close, but no one has matched him quite yet.

He’s a hockey legend.

Players want to be on this team purely because of him.

They dream of being as good as he once was.

It’s incredible, and I’m so fucking proud of him.

Every single day, he inspires people. No, not just people; he inspires players that are already at the top of their game.

I shake my head as I push the door to the rink open and take a deep breath.

Home.

I lower myself to a bench, take my sneakers off, and begin lacing up my skates.

Once I’m ready, I sit up straight and look at the ice.

It’s full of families and skaters of all different ages and abilities.

I watch a couple of kids who can’t be more than four racing around the middle like little rockets and smile.

That was me once upon a time.

I vividly remember Dad’s proud smile as he watched me.

I’ve been addicted to the freedom the ice provides ever since.

When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was follow in my father’s footsteps.

I joined my first girls’ team at age six, and I played until I was fifteen.

But everything eventually got too much, and I quit.

It’s something I’ll probably always regret.

Mom wouldn’t have wanted me to quit.

I may not have been as good as Dad, and I may never have made the PWHL, but I loved it. And when I stopped playing, I lost a massive piece of myself for quite some time.

I blow out a heavy breath as everything I’ve fought to overcome presses down on my shoulders.

Get on the ice, Casey.

Everything is better when you’re on the ice.

Pushing to my feet, I walk to the gate and straighten my spine.

I step out and then glide away.

The second I do, every muscle in my body relaxes.

I find my place amongst the skating crowd and let go of everything that’s weighing me down.

I don’t count how many laps I do—not that it matters. I’d keep going all day if I could.

But eventually, the ice begins to empty, and over in the corner, the first of the kids' teams congregates to begin their practice.

The sight of the girls in their team uniforms hits me right in the chest.

Slowing to a stop at the exit, I step off the ice and wobble on shaky, tired legs toward the bench where I left my bag.

I might skate most weeks still, but I don’t have the stamina I used to.

Lowering my ass, I take a moment to catch my breath.

Before I lean forward to remove my skates, the girls take to the ice.

I sit there, unable to look away as they start their warm-up laps before embarking on some drills.

Longing to be out there suited up and doing the thing I always loved pulls at my muscles.

I’m too old now; I’d probably break every bone in my body if I even attempted to play. But it’s nice to live vicariously through them.

They look so tiny out there, but they certainly don’t look vulnerable. They’re little savages, and I love it.

I always enjoyed being faster and stronger than most of the boys at school. Looking back, I’m pretty sure many of them were scared of me. Explains why I didn’t have a boyfriend until much later in life.

I tug off my skates as the girls all crowd around their two coaches, eagerly listening to instructions.

They split them into two teams and select two girls as goalies. They take half the rink each and line up to take shots.

Silently, I do a little cheer for each girl who sinks the puck in the net.

I completely lose track of time watching them as they start a game.

Before I know it, parents are beginning to appear at the other side of the rink, ready to collect their daughters, and I finally place my skates in my bag and head off.

When I return to my car, I feel lighter, almost like I’m ready to tackle returning to work and looking Dad in the eyes without feeling guilty as fuck.

He’s always been pretty perceptive when it comes to me. Even when I was a hormonal teenager, he could take one look at me and know what I needed.

If he even suspects anything, then he’ll be like a dog with a bone until he gets the truth.

Thankfully, with preseason upon us, he should be a little distracted.

The Vipers’ first exhibition game is just over a week away. The guys are already hard at work getting ready, and I know that despite his experience, Dad feels the pressure of the upcoming season more and more every year.

He shouldn’t. He’s a fantastic coach, and the entire organization loves him. But I guess it’s easier said than done.

L owering my ass to the couch, I wake my cell up as I drink my coffee and look through all the photos that have been posted of Friday night.

I did the same more than once yesterday, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it again for fear that there will be one of me that will allow someone to recognize me.

Confident that I’m safe, I take myself to the shower. I’ve got some work I want to do for tomorrow, but my only other plans for the day include watching some kind of documentary on Netflix.

I really am living the dream right here.

“ I ’ve just pulled up outside,” Parker says the second I answer her call. “Let me in.”

“Hey, it’s nice to speak you too,” I tease.

“Oh, shush. I have tacos.”

“You totally should have led with that,” I mock as I pull my cell from my ear and find the app that will grant her entry to the building.

She laughs down the line before saying, “See you in two,” and cutting the call.

A few minutes later, my front door slams, and my best friend’s footsteps move toward me. But before I see her, the scent of the food she’s brought with her hits my nose.

My stomach growls, and I sit forward, ready to accept her gift.

“Good to know which one of us you want more,” Parker teases when I make grabby hands for the bag. She clutches it to her chest and sticks her tongue out as she stalks past me.

She places the bag on the coffee table before going to the kitchen and grabbing everything we need as if she’s in her own place.

“Have I told you you’re the best?”

She glances over at me before throwing her long red hair over her shoulder and dropping onto the other end of the couch. “Nowhere near enough.”

Parker and I first met in kindergarten, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

It helps that her dad was also a hockey player, so we had a lot in common that other kids couldn’t understand. Mostly, our obsession for the sport we grew up surrounded by.

Silence falls as we dive into our tacos.But the guilt I’m carrying over keeping such a huge secret from her never leaves me.

“So…” she eventually mumbles around a mouthful of food. “I saw something interesting earlier when I was scrolling through images of the masquerade ball on Friday night.”

“Oh?” I ask, my heart rate increasing as fear shoots through me.

If anyone was going to recognize me hiding behind my mask, it would be Parker.

“Yeah. See…at first, I thought I was seeing things, but the more I looked, the more I convinced myself I was right.” My face begins to burn, and my stomach knots.

Risking a glance at her, I find her narrowed, suspicious eyes drilling into me.

She knows.

Fuck.

“Parker,” I hedge.

“Casey,” she shoots back.

My hands tremble as I stare down at my food, which I suddenly can’t stomach.

Parker and I don’t keep secrets from each other. Especially not ones as big as the one I’m keeping from Friday night.

“Don’t make me ask.”

“Fuck,” I breathe, closing my eyes for a beat.

“I fucking knew it,” Parker shouts as if she’s just won the Stanley Cup.

“Parker.”

She turns toward me, bouncing with excitement on the couch.

“I need to know everything.”

The breath I didn’t know I was holding comes rushing out of me.

Of course I want to tell her. Parker knows everything there is to know about me.

I trust her with my life, but sharing this…it feels like I’m betraying the promise I made to Kodie.

“Casey, you’re scaring me.”

“Parker, you have to promise to never tell anyone about this. No one aside from me and you know I was there.”