Page 216 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
I head toward the locker room, already reaching for my phone.
The second the screen lights up, my stomach drops. Notifications explode across it.
Connor suddenly goes dead silent beside me. “Um… Daltyn.”
I already see it.
A video thumbnail of Peyton fills my screen.
She’s surrounded by cameras, a terrified look on her face.
My blood turns to ice.
The clip starts automatically.
Flashbulbs explode around her while a female reporter fires questions into her face.
Then the reporter grabs Peyton’s arm.
Peyton recoils, fear flashing across her face so fast and sharp it nearly stops my fucking heart. Something inside me detonates.
“Jesus Christ,” Ford mutters somewhere behind me.
I’m already ripping my blocker off hard enough to send it skidding across the floor.
Pads next.
Chest protector. Gone.
The locker room blurs around me.
All I can hear is my pulse roaring violently in my ears.
“She had a panic attack,” Connor says quietly after checking his phone again.
The words hit like a bullet straight through my ribs.
Panic attack.
Because I wasn’t there.
Because I pulled away.
She needed me, and I left her alone with this shit.
Self-loathing crashes through me so hard it makes me physically nauseous.
I pull on my jeans and hoodie without even showering.
“Daltyn,” Ford warns carefully.
Too late. I’m already moving.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Ford calls after me.
I don’t answer.
Because right now, all I know is I need to get to her.
