Page 140 of Don't Fall for the Goalie

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That should probably concern me more than it does.

The porch light glows softly through the trees by the time I pull in.

Something low in my chest loosens at the sight of it.

At the thought of her inside, waiting for me.

Jesus Christ.

I kill the engine and grab my bag before heading toward the front door.

The second I step inside, I know something’s wrong.

Peyton is curled up on the couch with a blanket aroundher legs, but the second she sees me, she bolts upright. Her expression is somewhere between embarrassed and mildly traumatized.

Every exhausted part of me sharpens. “You okay?”

She grimaces. “That depends.”

I close the door slowly behind me. “That bad?”

“Gram came over.”

I go completely still. “Today?”

“Yes.”

Poor Peyton.

I drop my hockey bag near the wall. “What happened?”

She opens her mouth.

Then closes it.

That’s never a good sign.

“Peyton.”

“Thelma brought laundry out.”

Confusion flickers briefly through my exhaustion. “Okay…”

“And the black lace panties fell out.”

Oh no.

The ones I worked so hard to sneak into the laundry. The ones I took from Peyton’s drawer and used to pleasure myself.

I was hoping to snag them and put them back in my drawer before Thelma could return them to her.

I stare at her silently.

Color floods her cheeks. “Then Gram came inside, and somehow I accidentally admitted you stole them.”

I stare at her in silence.

I blink once.

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