Page 29 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
She races toward me with a wide smile and jumps into my arms.
All the air rushes out of my lungs as her small body collides with my larger one. But the second she wraps her arms around my body and squeezes me tight, everything feels that little bit better.
No sooner had I walked out of my stranger’s hotel room last night than I climbed into the back of an Uber.
I requested he drive me the long way home in the hope that the journey would help me clear my head.
It did fuck all.
By the time I silently slipped into my house, I was still a mess.
I stopped in the kitchen for a bottle of water, and instead of going up to bed, my ass hit the couch. And that’s where I stayed.
After turning my cell off, I finished the bottle of water and laid back.
Despite my exhaustion, I didn’t fall asleep for hours.
Instead, I tortured myself with memories of everything that happened last night.
From the moment the troublemaker in the pretty green dress ran into me, until she called my name just before I ripped the door open and marched away.
How could I have been so fucking stupid?
So fucking naive?
It’s not like I haven’t been there before, or witnessed it with my teammates time and time again.
I know exactly what happens next.
It was okay to have my private life splashed all over the internet when I was young and unattached—hell, it was even relatively safe while Sutton was a baby.
But now?
My little girl is seven.
She has access to the internet—albeit limited. She loves watching ESPN for hockey news; she finds all the things she can and soaks it all up like most little girls do about their favorite pop stars.
The thought of her seeing some woman run her mouth about the night she spent with me fucking terrifies me.
Sutton is already grown up for her age, seeing as she’s been forced to live this life with me. I want to at least try to keep her a kid for as long as possible.
The last thing she needs is to be reading about what I get up to behind closed doors.
“Why are you still in your suit, Daddy?” Sutton asks when she sits back and looks at me.
“I was tired when I got in. Fell asleep on the couch.”
“That won’t be very good for your performance,” she points out helpfully.
“I know,” I mumble, feeling like a child who’s been caught raiding the snack cupboard.
“Preseason is upon us. We need you in top form. We’re going to the playoffs this year. I can feel it.”
The smile she gives me makes my chest tighten.
“Yeah?” I force out, my voice rough with emotion.
“Yep,” she confirms confidently. “You have the best team not only in the conference but in the league this year.”
