The Rulebreaker

  Piper Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2026 by Piper Rayne®

  Piper Rayne® registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover Design: Buerosued

  1st Line Editor: Joy Editing

  2nd Line Editor: My Brother’s Editor

  Proofreader: Olivia Winston

  About The Rulebreaker

  I’m the coach’s daughter. Falling for one of my father's players was never the plan.

  * * *

  Especially not Decker Davis.

  * * *

  Chicago Colts third baseman.

  Dependable. Steady. The guy everyone trusts.

  And the man who’s spent years keeping his distance—especially from me.

  We have history. The kind that ten years and a thousand miles can’t touch.

  So, this time, I promised myself I'd be smarter.

  No getting attached. No blurred lines. And definitely, no falling.

  * * *

  He broke every last one within the first week.

  * * *

  Because Decker doesn’t just show up for me. He shows up for my daughter.

  Because he fits into our lives like he was always meant to be there.

  Because he looks at me like I was never something he wanted to lose.

  And suddenly, the walls I've spent years building don't feel nearly as solid as they used to.

  * * *

  But if I let him in, I’m not just risking my heart—I’m risking hers too… and I already know what losing him costs.

  * * *

  I won’t let my daughter pay that price.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Epilogue

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  About Piper & Rayne

  Also by Piper Rayne

  Chapter

  One

  Dr. Nora Bell

  * * *

  I open the door to my private waiting area and know right away that I’m going to earn my hourly fee with these two.

  They’re sitting on opposite sides of the room—heads down, thumbs moving, not a single inch of eye contact between them.

  Famous clients aren’t my usual lane. But these two were referred to me by my college friend Paisley Petrov. She’s hard to say no to. Plus, there’s a reason a person goes into a career in psychology—we want to help people.

  Still, seeing them in person hits different. The headlines didn’t accurately convey the distance between them.

  “You can come in now.” I step out of the doorway to give them room to move past me.

  They stand at the exact same time.

  Pocket their phones at the exact same time.

  Cross the room at the exact same time.

  At the doorway, they hesitate. Both gesture for the other to go first.

  They’re polite and courteous, and so tightly wound I can feel it in my own chest.

  The dark blond with tattoos and shoulders with sharp edges steps through first. The darker-haired one follows with a small nod that says I’m the nice one, but don’t dig too deep into me.

  They each take a seat on the couch as though we’re preparing for a boxing match—opposite ends, bodies angled away.

  I don’t reach for my notebook. It’s our first session. People talk less when they feel observed.

  I fold my hands over my knee and offer my kindest smile. “So, what brings you two here?”

  Neither of them even glance in my direction.

  And the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes—this isn’t about what happened last season. It’s about something rooted deeper from years earlier.

  I keep my expression smooth, but inside, I’m already texting Paisley in my head.

  You owe me a big European vacation for this one.

  Chapter

  Two

  Penelope

  * * *

  I double check that I have everything in my bag.

  Sunscreen, snacks, water bottle.

  As if the one thing Hazel doesn’t have in her life might’ve slipped in there unnoticed.

  “Are you missing something?” Leighton’s voice is easy and nonchalant, pretending I don’t look like a frantic mom searching for her kid’s brown bag lunch before a field trip.

  “No. Just checking something.” I stop rummaging because if a father for Hazel has somehow wedged himself inside my tote, he’s not going to pop out saying, “Finally, you found me. I was suffocating between your wallet and dispensable birth control.”

  “Thank goodness we have such good weather today.” She sips her coffee, eyes tracking the kids as they run from station to station across the playground. “I remember hating field days when I was younger. I never excelled at any of the events.”

  While her gaze bounces between the kids, mine analyzes the parents in attendance. There’s no denying I’m alone on the island of single parenthood at this school.

  “Do most kids here have two parents?”

  Leighton pauses mid-sip and glances my way.

  I might as well be wearing a flashing neon sign that says, Feeling insecure. My daughter comes from a one-parent household.

  Her gaze flicks across the field. “I guess so. I never noticed.”

  And why would she? She has Hayes—currently running the tug-of-war station as though he popped out of the birth canal with a whistle in his mouth. Most of the stations are being run by one of the parents, while the second half of the pairing is on the sidelines like Leighton and me. My dad was supposed to run a station for us, but he’s running late.

  “It’s a small school.” Her hand lands on my shoulder. “I’m sure there are other single parents. We’re just not noticing.”

  “I’m looking. And I’m coming up empty.”

  Leighton’s mouth twists. “Me too. But it’s not a big deal. You do not need a man. You’ve raised Hazel to be an amazing young girl.”

  I know I have. But school events have a way of poking at the bruise I pretend doesn’t exist.

  It was easier when it was just the two of us in our little routine and world back in Philly. Now all these flyers come home with big blaring letters that spell out Parents or Guardians. Parents/Guardians volunteer to read. Parents/Guardians show up for the art exhibit. Parents/Guardians sign up for fundraisers.

  There is only parent, singular, in our household.

  And Hazel is old enough now to notice that most kids get to hold a second hand.

  Leighton’s voice softens. “Seriously, Penelope. I can see you spiraling.”

  “It’s just…” I scan the sidelines, gauging how many adults are close enough to overhear.

  When your dad is the Chicago Colts manager and you’re standing next to the starting catcher’s wife, people tend to develop a sudden interest in whatever you’re saying. Thankfully, today most of them are more invested in watching their kids chase bubbles and sack race each other in the grass.

  “It’s just… I haven’t dated since Hazel was born.”

  Leighton’s brows lift.

  Heat creeps up the back of my neck. “It’s not like I haven’t… you know. But I never wanted anything serious. I never wanted anything that could take time away from Hazel.”

  I’m not lying. I’m just… sanding down the sharp edges.

  Because there’s one man I would’ve let inside our two-person bubble had he been ready to be welcomed in.

  “Hazel seems to like Decker a lot.” Leighton waggles her eyebrows.

  I groan. Of course she says his name.

&nb
sp; I’m pretty sure everyone in our little group knows there’s history between us. Unfortunately, they also know I have history with his twin brother—which is a whole other story I’d prefer to leave buried under the same rock I’ve been living under for the last decade.

  “Well, that’s never going to happen.”

  “Why not? He’s always looking at you.”

  I bark a humorless laugh. “He is not. And even if he was, that means nothing. He’s good with Hazel because he’s good with kids. Look how he is with all of yours. He’s just… a good guy.”

  Leighton exhales as though she’s trying not to push too hard. Then her expression shifts, attention snagging over my shoulder. A slow smile tugs at her mouth. “It’s as if we manifested him.”

  My stomach drops before I even turn my head.

  Chapter

  Three

  Penelope

  * * *

  Decker walks through the gate, tall and loose-limbed, as always. He doesn’t look toward me. Instead, he goes straight to Hayes. They talk, heads bent as if they’re discussing something serious.

  “Did you ask him to come?” There’s a note of teasing to Leighton’s voice.

  “No.” I’m trying to read Decker and Hayes’s lips across the yard as though I’m the lead detective in a spy movie.

  Hayes points toward one of the stations, directing Decker where to go, but he doesn’t get two steps before Hazel and Monroe intercept him. They fling themselves at his legs as if he’s the latest Disney star, and he says something that makes them scurry off, giggling.

  Hazel darts away to do whatever he asked, then looks back over her shoulder. Her eyes find mine. And she smiles so wide it tugs something inside my chest that I don’t want tugged.

  This is trouble.

  Not because Decker is here. Not even because he’s smiling at my kid as though she means something to him.

  Because Hazel is happy to see him.

  Because I know that look.

  It’s the same look she had when she was a year old and I thought I’d finally gotten rid of all the pacifiers—packaged them for the fairy, had a ceremony, the whole production—until I checked her room before bed and found her sucking on one as if she’d been hiding her favorite thing for weeks.

  “Why can’t you and Decker…” Leighton keeps her voice low. “You have a past, and I know he has feelings for you.”

  I don’t want to have this conversation here, where the school moms could turn us into an instant rumor. Plus, I need to shut it down, otherwise I’ll allow hope to sink in. Her words open a door I’m not brave enough to walk through.

  “It’s… there’s a lot of history. A friendship.”

  Leighton frowns. “A friendship where you haven’t talked in almost a decade?”

  “Didn’t you just marry your best friend’s brother this offseason who you’d had a crush on since high school?”

  She chuckles. “Touché.”

  I shrug. “It’s complicated.”

  Her mouth quirks. “Isn’t it always?”

  I could entertain Leighton’s version, where Decker’s been pining for me all this time, where he’s stalked my social media the way I’ve stalked his, where his silence was never from indifference but based on fear. But what good would that do?

  Hope is a risk I stopped indulging in the moment Hazel’s father made it clear he didn’t want any part in her life.

  “I think it’s time I start dating.” The words feel strange on my tongue.

  “Yes!” Leighton’s brown eyes brighten. “Decker.”

  Her cheeky smile does something treacherous to me—makes me want to believe there could be something there, makes me want to turn around and catch him staring.

  But he’s had years. Years to make a move. Years to change what we are.

  And he hasn’t.

  I shake my head. “Hate to burst that bubble, but Decker and I aren’t meant for each other.”

  Decker heads to the hula hoop station and swaps in for a dad who looks thrilled to pass the job onto someone else. Except the dad doesn’t leave. Rather, he stays and chats with Decker, probably about the Colts.

  Leighton holds up her hands. “Okay. We’ll take Decker off the table. Why now?”

  My gaze tracks Hazel as she skips between stations. She’s come out of her shell this year, but she still clings to Monroe, still lets Monroe talk for her more than she should.

  “For Hazel. For myself. I’m ready to have a partner in my life.” My throat tightens. “I know it’ll take a while to find someone. There aren’t exactly a line of men raising their hands begging to be a dad.”

  Leighton snorts. “Sure there are. Lots of guys are into hot moms.”

  I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my mouth. “You’re always so complimentary.”

  “I’m speaking the truth.”

  Hazel runs toward the hula hoop station, grabs one, and tries to swivel her hips. The hoop immediately drops to the ground, and her shoulders bend inward.

  Decker steps in, gentle and easy, showing her how to start the motion. Then he does it himself, his hips moving with ridiculous confidence, the hoop spinning as though he’s a professional circus act.

  Leighton makes an impressed noise. “Who would’ve thought Decker had moves like that?”

  Little does she know.

  “Of course, Callie did say he can dance.”

  “His mom taught him.” I keep my voice casual.

  I don’t add that I taught him a little too.

  Another mom approaches Leighton, pulling her into a quick conversation about snacks or sign-up sheets or something equally earth-shattering in the elementary school world, and I keep my gaze trained anywhere but on Decker.

  Except I stray.

  I keep catching myself watching him with Hazel, and a version of my life flashes in my head like a cruel movie trailer designed to torture me. I hate myself for wanting it.

  I wouldn’t have Hazel if I had Decker. The blink of a relationship that gave me her is the best thing that ever happened to me.

  When Hazel was three, she asked me what the word daddy meant as though it was a brand name. Like it was something we could grab from the grocery store if we walked down the right aisle.

  Should I have a daddy, Mommy?

  I remember the way I smiled through the tightness in my throat.

  As if the universe is trying to be funny, my dad finally arrives and gives me a wave before beelining straight for Decker. My dad shakes his hand, claps him on the back, then crouches as Hazel sprints into his arms.

  Decker gives Hazel a high five, gives Hayes a quick wave, and then—finally—turns, but instead of leaving the school grounds, he walks toward me. My heart rate spikes hard and fast, my body reacting before my brain can remind me he means nothing to us.

  Decker stops right in front of the painted line on the pavement, as if it’s the proverbial line in the sand he won’t cross. “Hey.” He runs a hand through his dark hair.

  “Hi.” I think my attempt to keep a casual smile is failing. It feels awkward and forced.