Page 90 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
I fucking love my job, but I hate that doing it well means missing out on so much with Sutton.
“It’s okay. You’ll be at our next game.”
“I will,” I agree.
“Come on, you need to make me breakfast before school,” she says before sitting up and grabbing my hand, attempting to pull me from the bed.
Sutton might be strong and powerful in her own right, but she doesn’t stand a chance.
“I thought you were making me breakfast this morning,” I tease.
“If you would let me fry the eggs, I would.”
She would too.
My independent daughter would happily be the one running the house, given the chance.
“Go and grab everything we need and I’ll be right there,” I say, sitting up and watching as she skips out of the room.
I sigh, dragging my hand down my face.
I fucking hate leaving her.
Mom does an incredible job looking after her in my absence, but it’s not the same as having her actual parent taking care of her.
Guilt twists my insides. It’s becoming an all-too usual feeling these days.
It was bad enough when it was just dad guilt over not being present enough for Sutton. But add what I’ve done with Casey into the mix and I’m drowning in it.
If only it was enough to stop me from wanting to do it again.
I throw a couple more things into my suitcase before joining my daughter in the kitchen.
She gives me one of her widest smiles as I step up beside her. She’s trying to silently reassure me. I fucking love her for it, but I hate it at the same time.
I’m meant to be the one reassuring her, not the other way around.
Together, we make breakfast and enjoy our last few minutes before leaving for school.
She chatters away about our game tomorrow night, seamlessly relaying traded players’ stats. I swear, if her teachers taught her math in relation to hockey, she’d get top marks across the board. The girl is a freaking genius when she has a reason to apply her knowledge.
My heart is in my throat when we pull up at school. She finally falls quiet as we sit there for a moment, watching her classmates head inside.
A low groan comes from my daughter, and I glance over to see her eyes narrowed as she glares at someone across the playground.
I don’t need to turn around to see who it is, but I do nonetheless.
“Is he still bothering you?” I ask as Sutton tries to burn holes in the back of Adrian’s head.
“He’s a jerk,” she mutters angrily.
I want to chastise her for calling him that, but honestly, he is. So is his father.
We played against each other during college, and I don’t have any good memories of the experiences.
“Unfortunately, dealing with people like Adrian is a part of life.”
“I know. I just wish his dad still played so he could get traded to the outback of nowhere.”
