Because they were digging intomine.
Daltyn finally lifts his head. His eyes find mine. “I’m sorry.” His voice is rough.
My fingers tighten around the mug. “Which part?”
His jaw flexes. “All of it.”
“That’s vague.”
“I know.”
Silence stretches between us again.
He drags a hand down his face. “I wasn’t trying to make it worse.”
“I know.”
His eyes narrow slightly, like he doesn’t believe me.
“I mean it. I know you weren’t.” I glance at the laptop. “You were trying to protect me.”
His expression tightens.
There it is. That word. Protect.
It’s written all over him. In every tense muscle. Every sharp breath. Every haunted look he thinks he hides.
He looks away first. “I should’ve handled it better.”
“Probably.”
His gaze cuts back to mine.
I shrug one shoulder. “What? You did accidentally hard-launch us to the entire hockey world.”
He winces.
I should not find that cute. I really shouldn’t.
My phone buzzes against the counter.
Then his.
Then mine again.
Then his.
We both look down.
“Oh no,” I whisper.
Allie: ARE YOU OKAY??? Also… HOLY SHIT.
Then another from Harper.
Harper: Please tell me you’re breathing. Also Peyton Sinclair, official goalie whisperer, has a nice ring to it.
I choke on air.
