This time, it’s a notification.
Then another.
And another.
My stomach drops.
I tap the screen before I can talk myself out of it.
Big mistake.
Hockey Hub already has the clip posted.
Of course they do.
The video is only twenty-two seconds long. But it’s long enough to capture the reporter asking if I was still connected to Landon Cross. Long enough to capture Daltyn’s jaw tightening. Long enough to capture those three words leaving his mouth.
I shouldn’t play it, but I do.
Daltyn’s voice fills the kitchen, low and lethal through my tiny phone speaker.“She’s with me.”
My lungs forget how to work.
The clip ends, then loops.
I stop it quickly, but the damage is already done.
The comments are multiplying so fast, I can barely read them.
That man was ready to fight a reporter through Zoom.
Protective goalie era unlocked.
Peyton Sinclair, blink twice if you need us to buy wedding gifts.
The way he said, “She’s with me”??? I need to lie down.
Goalie Whisperer confirmed.
Landon Cross had better stay FAR away because Daltyn looks unwell.
That last one makes my stomach twist.
I know Landon can’t come after us. But the thought of all he’s done... what he did in Key West... it makes me feel ill.
Daltyn sees my expression change. “What’s wrong?”
I lock the phone. “Nothing.”
“Peyton.”
“It’s fine.”
His eyes sharpen. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend something doesn’t bother you.”
