“Thankfully.”
Her smile widens slightly.
And just like that?
The entire day stops feeling exhausting.
47
PEYTON
I’m starting to think the Green Mountain Avalanche might actually be a cult. That’s the only explanation for this level of enthusiasm.
Thousands of people flood toward Summit Arena, wearing navy and white jerseys, as music blares from speakers outside the entrance. Someone nearby is already chugging beer even though it’s barely six o’clock.
“It’s preseason,” I say weakly as Daltyn guides me through the crowd beside him.
A little girl wearing a tiny Avalanche jersey gasps loudly when she sees him. “Oh my God,” she whispers to her dad. “It’s Guyer.”
Daltyn gives her a small nod without slowing down.
The child looks moments away from passing out.
I stare after her. “You have fans.”
His hand settles automatically against my lower back as we approach the arena entrance. “Unfortunately.”
The warmth of his palm burns straight through the sweatshirt I’m wearing.
His sweatshirt.The one I voluntarily put on because mine needed washing. And because it smells like him.
At this point, I should probably seek medical attention.
“You wore it again.” He sounds dangerously satisfied.
“I was cold,” I lie. “And mine’s in the hamper.”
Daltyn looks unconvinced.
Beside us, Connor appears seemingly out of nowhere. “Is that your sweatshirt?” he asks Daltyn, as if it were a scientific breakthrough.
“Connor,” Daltyn says flatly.
“That’s psychological attachment, brother.”
Ford walks beside him, carrying a duffel bag. “Please stop talking.”
“No, because this is important.”
I can literally feel the heat climbing into my face.
Unfortunately, Connor notices that too. “Oh my God,” he gasps dramatically. “She’s blushing.”
“I hate this team,” I mutter.
Harper snorts behind me while Allie outright laughs.
Daltyn’s mouth twitches slightly beside me.
