Page 261 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
Storm: Bro, you’re so fucked.
Kodie: You will be too, if you go anywhere near her.
Storm: Maybe you should come and make sure I don’t. Monroe is looking too…
He’s baiting me. I know he is. But fuck if there’s not a massive temptation to drag some clothes on and go and see for myself.
When another message comes through, I assume it’s Linc attempting to press a few more buttons, so when I pick my cell up and find someone else’s name, I almost drop it.
Trouble: Great game tonight. Sutton was so proud of you. She really is a great kid.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
Seeing them both up there in the crowd tonight, jumping up and down, screaming for us—for me—is a sight I’m not going to forget for a long time.
It was also a complete headfuck.
I have never, ever allowed any woman I’ve hooked up with anywhere close to Sutton. Hell, in the early days before I swore off women, most of them didn’t even know I had a kid. Easier that way. Less risk. Puck bunnies can be…a lot. Thankfully, I’ve never experienced it, but I’ve had teammates who have had issues with stalking in the past. I never, ever want to subject Sutton to anything like that. It was why I stepped away from that way of life. Her safety was so much more important than me getting a bit of action.
Kodie: Thank you. And I agree, she’s the best.
Trouble: So’s her dad.
“Christ. You’re fucking killing me here.”
There are so many things I could reply with, but each one is more dangerous than the last.
In the end, I keep the focus on Sutton—also known as taking the pussy way out.
Kodie: Good luck tomorrow. Hopefully, you’ll secure a win too.
I shake my head as I let my cell drop to the bed.
Ivery rarely get nervous before games. I usually go through my routine exactly the same every time and I walk into the arena with my head held high and focused on what’s to come. Okay, so recently the latter has been a bit of an issue, but despite being distracted by a certain blonde, I’m still not nervous.
But the morning of Sutton’s games? Fuck. They’re entirelydifferent.
I’m a wreck.
I figured out a while ago that it’s because I’m not in control.
In contrast, Sutton is as cool as a cucumber.
She also has her little routine. Same breakfast every morning before a game. Then she hits the gym with me to warm up. Then she has to get dressed in certain clothes, pack her bag in a specific order, and then we have to listen to the same playlist I helped her set up last summer.
She really is just like one of the guys—only, funnier and cuter.
“You’re going to kill it today, Peanut,” I tell her as we step inside the arena.
She doesn’t respond, and I don’t expect her to. Now that we’re in the building, she’s in the zone.
I’m smiling, both amused and incredibly proud of my headstrong and determined little girl. But as we move toward her coaches, my smile begins to fade, and those nerves return with full force.
Today isn’t just another one of Sutton’s games. It’s a game with Casey as her coach. It’s a game where I’m going to have to sit here and have my chest ripped in two as I watch them communicate—and hopefully, celebrate—together.
My two worlds have collided, and it’s fucking me up.
It’s creating ideas and images in my head of the kind of future that could possibly be there.
