Page 30 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
I exhale slowly and glance toward the window.
Moonlight spills across the room in pale silver streaks,illuminating the dark furniture and soft blankets. Beyond the glass, the woods stretch endlessly into darkness.
It should feel creepy. Instead, it feels peaceful. Protected. Like nothing bad can reach me out here.
Another soft creak sounds overhead. My gaze drifts upward automatically.
Daltyn’s up there. Probably pacing. Probably overthinking and muttering about his refrigerator again.
A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
God.This man ordered me a medical boot less than five hours after I got hurt.
Something tightens painfully in my chest.
Landon used to get irritated anytime I was sick or injured. Like my pain inconvenienced him somehow.
The memory sours the warmth curling through me.
Daltyn’s the complete opposite. Protective. Careful. Attentive in ways that almost seem instinctive. Like the second something hurts me, it becomes personal to him.
That should probably terrify me.
Instead, it makes me feel safe enough that my eyes begin growing heavy for the first time in weeks.
I pull the blanket higher and breathe in the scent of cedar and Daltyn one last time.
Then I fall asleep, wondering what the hell I’m going to do if this starts feeling too much like home.
9
DALTYN
I should be asleep.
Instead, I’m pacing the loft like a damn lunatic while Peyton sleeps downstairs.
At least, I think she’s asleep.
The cabin is quiet enough that every creak of the floorboards sounds too loud.
My bare feet move across the wood while I drag a hand through my hair for what’s probably the hundredth time tonight.
This is bad.
Bringing Peyton here was already dangerous enough.
Then I gave her my hoodie. Fed her pasta in my kitchen. Listened to her laugh her way through me unpacking her luggage while she bossed me around and nearly killed me with black lace panties and a fucking vibrator.
My jaw tightens.
I stop pacing long enough to yank my shirt over my head before tossing it toward the chair in the corner of my room.
Cold mountain air brushes against my skin from the cracked window nearby.
Usually, this place calms me down. Tonight, it feels too small. Too warm. Too full of her.
I exhale hard and grab my jeans from where I dropped them earlier, then shove my hands into the pockets and empty them.
