Page 259 of Breaking the Pucking Rules

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 theydon’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.

Istand 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?