Page 210 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
My chest tightens painfully at how distant even the note feels.
It doesn’t sayMorning, PeyorDon’t burn the garlic bread again.
This note is a wall between us. A distance that wasn’t there until last night.
I stare at it for a second too long before forcing myself to make coffee.
The cabin remains painfully silent while the machine brews.
Usually, I turn on some music. Listen to the sound of his footsteps as he moves around the kitchen. The low rumble of his voice as he chats with me.
Now there’s just emptiness.
And I hate it.
I wrap both hands around my coffee mug before sitting at the island.
But I don’t drink it.
My appetite disappeared somewhere around the moment Ethan flinched, and Daltyn became distant.
The memory of what happened yesterday hits hard.
Daltyn crouched in front of him slowly, speaking to him in hushed tones. Like he knew exactly how to approach a frightened child.
Then the father appeared.
And everything changed.
I close my eyes briefly.
At the time, I thought Daltyn was angry because he hates cruelty.
But now? Now I understand it was something deeper. More personal.
I saw his face when Ethan’s father grabbed him.
There was anger there.
But more importantly, there was recognition.
All the pieces start falling into place so fast it makes my chest hurt.
The hyper-awareness.
The emotional control.
The constant scanning of rooms.
Noticing when I’m overwhelmed before I even say anything.
The way he carefully watches people.
The way rage flashes so quickly beneath his calm exterior.
The nightmares.
The fear in his eyes afterward.
