Page 308 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
“Thank you,” I say, cupping her cheeks in both of my hands.
“You have nothing to thank me for.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong. I have everything to thank you for.”
She sighs, a smile playing on her lips.
“Sutton loves you.”
“She’s a great kid.”
“Yeah. I lucked out.”
“Nothing lucky about it. You’re an incredible dad.”
I wiggle my brows, happy to take the compliment. “Oh yeah? What else am I good at?”
She laughs, and the sound lights me up inside.
“You’re coming to my game, right?” I’ve already asked her, but I need to hear it again.
“Yes, Kodie. I’m coming to your game,” she confirms.
“And you’re wearing my jersey?”
Her smile spreads wider, crinkling the corners of her eyes.
“Yes.”
“And I can come here after and celebrate?”
She tilts her head to one side teasingly. “If you win.”
My breath catches.
“And if we lose?”
She shrugs one shoulder and taps my chest. “Then it’s just you and your right hand, big guy.”
“Hell fucking no,” I say, dropping my hands to her hips, pushing her up against the wall, and kissing her in a way that will ensure she spends the rest of the day praying that we win so I can finish what I started.
When I finally leave the lobby of her building, I’m sporting a very inappropriate tent in my sweats, and my smile refuses to falter.
I haven’t felt this good in a long time.
I just pray it continues, and I don’t fuck it up again.
73
CASEY
They win.
No. They don’t just win. They fucking dominate.
They’re two goals up before the end of the first period, and I’m pretty sure a couple members of the other team spend more time in the box than they do on the ice.
As the game goes on, the hits get more and more brutal. So do the injuries.
