Page 66 of The Off Limits Captain
“Ryan.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
He finds his shirt and pulls it on.
I do not ask him to stay. Part of me wants to. The smarter part knows he might, and that would make tomorrow worse.
He stops at the door with his hand on the knob.
“Peyton.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t regret it.”
Then he leaves.
I sit in the dark with my arms around my knees and his marks already warming on my skin.
This makes everything harder.
I do not regret it either.
For one ugly second, I wonder if leaving was the point.
If restraint is just another way Ryan McAllister wins.
Ryan
Ifind the scratches in the locker room mirror.
Four red lines down my left shoulder blade, visible when my base layer catches halfway over my back.
Peyton’s nails.
The memory hits fast: her mouth under mine, the way she said no when I tried to be smart, the trouble in her eyes when I made myself stop. The way she looked when I left anyway, sitting up with her shirt half-on and the same wreckage in her face that I carried out the door.
“Cap?”
I yank the shirt down.
Zach stands a few feet away, eyebrows lifting just enough to prove he has seen something and would rather die than say what.
“How’s your mom?”
“Good. Stable.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Novak: space when it matters, quiet when quiet is a favor.
Colt walks past with half a bagel in his mouth and a tape ball stuck to his shoulder. “Morning, sunshine.”
“You have cream cheese on your glove.”
Colt looks down. “That’s my emotional support cream cheese.”
