Page 86 of Breakaway Hearts

“But regardless, I’m sure you’re in for a beating from Dunaway,” Owen adds.

“Without a doubt.” Theo snorts. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to them.”

“Great.” I turn off my shower head and wrap a towel around my waist.

Time to go face the music.

* * *

I hover my fist in front of Dunaway’s office door after getting dressed. I need to knock. I need to go in and speak to him, to face the consequences of my actions.

But I have a vague idea of what those consequences are going to look like, and I don’t like them one bit.

“Get your ass in here, Sutton!” Dunaway bellows. “You forget I have a window or something?”

I wince, then push open the door and sit down at the chair in front of his desk. “Sorry,” I say. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, exactly?”

“Not coming in right away.”

He snorts. “Anything else?”

“Um. Potentially damaging the Aces’ reputation and mine?”

Dunaway bangs his fist on the desk, and I clench my jaw tight. I’m not going to apologize for beating the shit out of that asshole. Not in a million years.

Not for Dunaway.

Not for the Aces.

Not for the goddamn NHL.

I would do it again and again for Callie. I meant what I told her mom the other night, and no matter what happens between us, that won’t change. I will always do my level best to look out for her. To take care of her, and to keep the assholes of the world from dimming her brightness.

“You punched an Aces fan in the face,” Dunaway says quietly. “Multiple times. The video is already circulating. Your face is plastered all over ESPN right now, and not for the reasons I want it to be.”

“At least viewers are getting a good show.”

The glare he gives me makes me blanch slightly, and I sink down a little in my seat.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “Bad timing.”

Dunaway sighs. “There are going to be legal issues involved in this, especially if that prick decides to sue. And you’ll be facing fines and a suspension. But mostly, I’m just disappointed in you, Sutton. I thought you were more level-headed than this.”

I drop my gaze down to my lap, dragging in a breath through my nose. “How long of a suspension?”

“I just spoke to someone from the Department of Player Safety. You’re looking at three games.”

I exhale sharply but keep my mouth zipped shut. It’s the news I was hoping I wouldn’t be hearing, even though I knew it was coming. I can’t protest, though. There’s no point. This came from NHL officials, not Dunaway, so there’s nothing he can do to change it.

“You’ll be alright.” Dunaway’s voice softens a little. “Just keep your head on straight, Sutton, for fuck’s sake. Don’t throw away a promising career with shit like this.”

“I won’t, Coach,” I promise.

“Good. Now get the hell out of my office.” He raps his knuckles on his desk and stands. I stand with him, and he pins me with a hard look. “No more fighting. And I don’t even want to hear a peep from you on socials until Margo and Ted get this whole thing sorted from a PR standpoint. Understood?”

“Understood.”

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