Page 276 of Breaking the Pucking Rules

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.

The 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?—”