Page 54 of The Rule Breaker (Colton U Playbook #1)

RYAN

I roll my shoulders back and stare at the front door for a second longer than necessary, my hand hovering just over the handle. The porch light flickers slightly above me, and I swear I can hear my own heartbeat in the quiet suburban street.

I shouldn’t be this nervous.

It’s just dinner.

It’s just her family.

I’ve sat across from Coach Hayes before. I’ve been in the locker room when he’s ripped into us after a bad game. I’ve seen him in the stands with his wife, watching our team play. But this— this —is different.

Because tonight, I’m not Ryan Reed, defenseman.

I’m Ryan Reed, the guy sleeping with his daughter.

And I have no idea if that means he’s going to shake my hand or break it.

Less than a week ago, Nathan barely wanted to look at me. Now, suddenly, I’ve been invited over for dinner? Something must have changed. I just don’t know what. And I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking into a test.

I drag in a breath, mutter a quiet fuck it , and knock.

The door swings open instantly.

Coach Hayes’s arms are crossed, like he was standing there, waiting. He’s wearing the look that usually comes right before he makes us run suicides until someone pukes—and I’ve got a bad feeling that someone is about to be me.

“Ryan,” he says, stepping back just enough to let me in.

“Hi, sir,” I manage, my voice an octave higher than usual.

He blinks. Not a big reaction, but enough to make me second-guess myself. I’ve never called him sir before, but I don’t exactly think Coach fits the situation either.

Christ, this is awkward as hell.

I step into the house, trying not to visibly sweat. The place feels… weirdly homey. Framed hockey jerseys line the hallway, something garlicky and delicious floats from the kitchen, and pots clink softly in the background.

Then I hear her.

Isabella’s voice, light with laughter, carries from the next room. The sound eases something in my chest, at least for a second. And when she steps into view, her dark curls pulled back, cheeks flushed from whatever she was just doing, the nerves settle a little more.

“Hey,” she says, smiling as she moves toward me, looping her arm through mine. “Come on, we’re just setting up.”

I let her lead me toward the dining room, where Nathan is already at the table, scrolling through his phone. He barely acknowledges me at first, but when he finally does, he nods once. “What’s up?”

It’s not exactly a warm welcome, but it’s better than the silent treatment. I’ll take it.

“Not much,” I say, which is a fucking stupid answer, but whatever.

Mrs. Hayes glances up from the kitchen, smiling warmly at me. “Ryan. It’s so nice to have you here. Isabella, can you help me with the plates?”

Isabella squeezes my arm before slipping away, leaving me alone with Coach and Nathan.

I take a seat across from Nathan, who finally puts his phone down and raises an eyebrow at me.

“So,” I start, tapping my fingers against my knee. “How’s the season?” I ask, mostly to fill the silence.

Nathan gives me a look. “You’re on the team.”

“Right,” I say, blowing out a breath. “Just trying to make conversation.”

Coach takes the seat at the head of the table, resting his forearms on the wood. “How’s school going?”

I sit up straighter. “Good. I mean, I hate gen eds, but I’ve only got one left next semester, so that’s something.”

Nathan smirks. “Which one?”

I groan. “History.”

Nathan winces. “Oof. Sucks for you.”

Coach shakes his head. “History’s important, Ryan. It teaches you not to repeat past mistakes.”

The way he says it makes me pause. Is that a general statement, or a direct fucking warning?

Before I can figure it out, Isabella and her mom return with the plates, and the air shifts as they sit down and we begin to eat.

The food is good —garlic chicken, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables. My stomach growls the second I take a bite, which earns me an amused look from Coach.

Conversation flows easier after that. Mrs. Hayes asks about hockey, Isabella talks about a project she’s excited about, and Nathan tells a story about one of our teammates getting nailed in the face with a full water bottle.

It’s… surprisingly normal. Like, suspiciously normal. For the first time all evening, I’m starting to believe I might survive this.

Then Mrs. Hayes turns to me. “So, Ryan, your brother is Connor Reed, right?”

I blink, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. That’s him.”

Coach leans back in his chair. “He’s doing well?”

“Yeah,” I say, setting down my fork. “He’s having a hell of a run right now. One of the best seasons of his career.”

Mrs. Hayes smiles. “That must be exciting. You two are close?”

I shrug, because I never know what to say when people bring him up. “I guess. My parents are really proud of him. They’ve kind of… always been focused on his career. Which, like, fair. He’s the one living the dream. I mean, I’m just playing college hockey. It’s not the same.”

Coach sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. “College hockey is still a damn impressive achievement. You’re playing at a top level, balancing classes, staying in shape, performing under pressure. That’s not ‘just’ anything.”

I blink, a little surprised that he’s complimenting me. “Thanks.”

He grumbles something under his breath and reaches for his glass. “Don’t let it go to your head. I’m not letting you off the hook.”

And there it is.

“If you hurt my princess,” he says, dead serious, “I will kick your shin.”

I blink. “Kick my shin?”

Nathan doubles over, wheezing.

Isabella groans. “Dad.”

Coach shrugs, like this is a totally reasonable threat. “You ever had your shin kicked?” he asks me. “Hurts like hell.”

Isabella grabs my arm and mutters, “Ignore him. He’s lost his mind.”

Coach just lifts an eyebrow, and I decide maybe I shouldn’t push my luck.

Mrs. Hayes sighs from across the table. “Hunter, we talked about threats at dinner.”

“I’m not threatening,” Coach says, his eyes slicing through me. “I’m warning.”

I glance at Isabella, who mouths, Sorry, with a wince.

But honestly? This is the most terrifying, hilarious, oddly heart-warming dinner I’ve ever had.

And, weirdly, I don’t want it to end.

Later, after the table’s cleared and Coach is helping his wife with the dishes, Isabella walks me to the door.

“Thanks for coming,” she says, slipping her arms around my waist.

“Thanks for not letting your dad kick me.”

“He still might.”

We both laugh, and she leans in to kiss me. I slide my hand to cup her face, holding her as I pull back and stare into those big brown eyes that sucked me in from day one. “I love you,” I say earnestly, my heart feeling so full.

Her smile is immediate. “I love you too.”

And just like that, all the tension, all the stress, all the weird shin-related threats… gone.

Well. Mostly.

Isabella pulls back, out of my reach. “I’ll be right back. Let me grab my purse.”

She gives my arm a quick squeeze and slips out of the room.

Coach comes out of the kitchen a few seconds later, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking every bit the gruff, intimidating guy I’ve always known.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, wiping his hands on a towel, his gaze fixed on me.

I shift uncomfortably, but it’s not like I have any choice but to face him.

Then Coach breaks the quiet with a grunt. “You seem to make her happy.”

I raise an eyebrow, unsure if it’s a compliment or just a grumble. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, one corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a smile. “Could be worse, I guess.”

I chuckle, running a hand through my hair and step forward. This is it. Time to rip the band-aid off.

“Coach… I’m in love with your daughter. I didn’t plan for any of this shit, and I know I’m probably not the guy you had in mind for her, but she makes me happier than anyone has before, and honestly, I can’t picture my life without her.

I know this is a total mess, and hell, you can bench me, kick me off the team, whatever you want.

But I won’t—I can’t—walk away from her.”

He looks up at me, his expression unreadable for a beat. Then he sighs.

“That was a good speech,” he says. “Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that you were sleeping with my daughter behind my back.”

His wife’s voice rings out from the kitchen. “Hunter!”

Coach winces. “Sorry. That was—sorry.”

I fight the urge to laugh. “It’s okay.”

He clears his throat, leaning forward slightly. “Just… treat her right.”

“I will,” I say without an ounce of hesitation. “Always.”

He nods once. “Alright then.”

And that’s it. No hugs. No handshake.

And for now, that’s enough.

I give him a hesitant nod, not sure if I should say something else. But before I can come up with anything, Isabella reappears, her purse in hand and flashes me a quick smile that melts my braincells.

“Okay, let’s go,” she says, sliding her hand in mine before turning to face her dad. “Bye. Love you.”

They say a quick love you back and I open the front door, and step outside.

Coach is still watching me from his front door, his arms crossed over his chest, and I can’t tell if he’s done hating me or if he’s just waiting for me to screw up.

I won’t screw up, though. I have the best thing in my life right beside me, and I will do everything to keep her.

I open the car door for her, and she slides into the seat, flashing me a smile before thanking me. I lean down, kiss her and close the door before heading to the other side.

My mind is still spinning from everything as I get into my seat and start the engine.

I might have just survived dinner, but whatever comes next with her? I’m all in.