Page 133 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
I shake my head. “Everything’s in the hamper.”
“Great. Makes my job easier.”
I grab my phone and lie on the sectional. I’m not used to having so much free time, and frankly, I’m a bit out of sorts from it.
I notice a text from Allie. I brace myself before opening it, already knowing I’m not going to like what she has to say.
Allie: Did you look at Instagram today? Someone posted another shot of Daltyn looking at you outside the lingerie store. Girl, that man is in love!
My traitorous heart beats faster in my chest even as my brain holds up a giant red flag.
I need to remember this isn’t real.
Daltyn was just being protective and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which happened to hard-launch our “relationship” to the public.
Even though we don’t have one.
I don’t know exactly what we are.
Several times, I opened my mouth to ask, then closed it. I suspect that putting Daltyn on the spot will only result in me hurting when he tells me we aren’t anything.
Which is ridiculous. Because I shouldn’t care.
Not when this entire situation started because Landon was acting insane, followed by Daltyn deciding he needed to hover over me like an emotionally unavailable bodyguard with anger issues.
Not exactly normal relationship progression.
My phone buzzes again.
Harper: PLEASE tell me you saw the newest hockey page post?
I close my eyes.
Nope. Not opening it.
My eyes open when my phone beeps.
Crap! Harper sent a screenshot.
Against my better judgment, I click on it. I spiral over it for a few seconds before sighing and opening Instagram to get a better look. If I’m going to go all in, I might as well see the original.
It’s another photo from outside the lingerie store.
Specifically, a zoomed-in shot of Daltyn glaring over the top of my head while carrying multiple shopping bags like an aggressively possessive personal assistant.
The caption reads:
“Green Mountain Avalanche goalie Daltyn Guyer was spotted looking one inconvenience away from committing a felony for his girl.”
Oh, God.
Even worse, there are over 12,000 comments below it.
My stomach drops.
Harper: The comments are feral.
Harper: I’m crying. One woman said she’d let him lock her in a cabin for the winter.
