Page 194 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
Fair.
His eyes drift toward the stove. “What’s that?”
“Pasta.”
He steps closer, peering into the pan. “That explains the noodles.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I know.”
He drops down onto one of the stools at the island with a low exhale and drags a hand over his face.
The movement pulls his shirt tighter across his chest.
Which is deeply unhelpful for me emotionally.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
Daltyn shrugs once, but it’s tighter than usual. Full of frustration.
I turn the burner down before walking toward him slowly. “What happened?”
“Coach is changing defensive pairings again.” His jaw tightens. “Everyone’s out of sync.”
I lean against the island beside him. “You’ll figure it out.”
His eyes lift to mine. Something softer flickers there, like hearing reassurance from me affects him more than it should.
It probably affects me much more than it does him.
“I hate when you look tired,” I admit quietly before I can stop myself.
His expression changes.
Heat floods my face. “I mean?—”
“You worry about me.”
My stomach flips hard.
I should probably back away from this conversation.
Instead, I step closer.
Daltyn’s knees spread slightly automatically, making room for me between them without even thinking about it.
The intimacy of that tiny unconscious movement nearly destroys me.
His hands settle lightly against my hips. Like he’s still giving me room to leave.
I don’t.
“You take care of everyone else,” I whisper softly. “Who takes care of you?”
Something flashes across his face then. Gone too quickly for me to fully understand.
Before I can overthink it, I slide my fingers gently through his hair.
