Page 288 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
“I’m coming back. Go in there and be with Sutton. I won’t be long.”
I hesitate, feeling like I’m being torn in two.
God, life was so much easier when my heart only belonged to one girl.
Letting her go, I step back into Sutton’s room and rest back against the door. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths.
I’m in love with Casey Watson.
The realization hits me out of nowhere, my heart pounding erratically inside my chest.
“Daddy?” a soft voice asks, dragging me from my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
Fucking hell. Today is wrecking me.
Ripping my eyes open, I focus on my daughter.
“Yeah, Peanut. I’m really good.”
For the first time in a very long time, a little bit of hope trickles through my veins.
She mirrors my smile as I close the gap between us and lower myself back into the chair beside her bed.
“I really like Casey,” she confesses, making my heart slam against my ribs once again.
“Yeah, you may have mentioned her being your new favorite coach.”
“I don’t just mean as a coach, Daddy.”
Our eyes hold as understanding passes between us.
Sutton’s maturity and awareness blow me away sometimes. But I know I only have myself to blame. She’s spent her formative years surrounded by adults and grown-up conversation. It’s no surprise she’s in tune with what’s happening around her, even if she doesn’t fully understand it yet.
“I like Casey too,” I agree, making Sutton beam.
“You know, it’s okay if you want a girlfriend.”
This girl...
“I love you, Sutton,” I say, my voice rough with emotion.
“I love you too, Daddy.”
We both fall silent, lost in our own thoughts, and only a few seconds later, her eyes fall closed and her breathing evens out.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, dragging my hand down my face and slouching back in the chair.
I watch her sleep, wondering how on Earth I was lucky enough to have a daughter as incredible as her.
I try my best not to think about the woman who gave her tome, but every now and then, I can’t help but think about how much she’s missing out on.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her in either of our lives, but she has no idea just how perfect her little girl is.
Long, silent minutes pass before the door behind me opens and soft footsteps move closer.
I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Her scent wafts over me as my body reacts to her proximity.
“Here,” she says, passing me a takeout cup before walking around the bed with her own in hand.
