Page 176 of Don't Fall for the Goalie

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“Oh,” Harper says quietly beside me.

I swallow. “What?”

Harper smirks faintly. “Nothing.”

Liar.

Down below, Jake skates past Daltyn and says something through a grin. Daltyn shoves him with one gloved hand. Jake laughs harder.

Then Connor skates over.

Oh no.

Connor looks toward the stands, specifically toward me. A slow, shit-stirring grin spreads across his face.

Allie groans. “And there it is.”

“What’s he gonna do?” I ask nervously.

“Connor noticed Daltyn keeps staring up here,” Harper says.

I nearly choke on air. “He couldn’t possibly.”

Allie and Harper both just look at me. Heat floods my face.

Down on the ice, Connor says something else to Daltyn. His head snaps toward Connor.

Connor points toward the stands. At me.

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

Daltyn looks genuinely homicidal now.

Connor, unfortunately, looks delighted by this development.

Then the whistle blows, and the scrimmage starts.

And within the first two minutes, I realize something horrifying.

Watching Daltyn play might actually be dangerous for my mental health.

45

DALTYN

The second the scrimmage starts, I begin playing better.

Connor still sneaks one past me five minutes in because he’s annoying as hell and incapable of acting normal for even thirty consecutive seconds.

But overall? I’m sharper. Faster. Locked in.

Coach Decker notices it, too. “Better,” he barks after I glove a shot from Jake clean out of the air.

I barely hear him. Every time play stops, my eyes drift toward the stands automatically. Toward her.

Peyton sits between Harper and Allie, wearing an Avalanche hoodie with her sleeves pulled over part of her hands. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders while arena lights reflect softly across her face.

And every damn time I look up? She’s already watching me.

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