The second is Daltyn.
I’m tangled against him beneath heavy blankets in his bed, one of his massive arms wrapped tightly around my waist like he fell asleep afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
Afternoon sunlight spills through the windows. Leaves drift in the wind lazily outside.
And Daltyn is still asleep.
My chest aches as I stare at him.
There’s no tension in his face. No hard lines between his brows. No ragged breathing or restless movement.
Just peace.
Because after everything he told me last night... after all the darkness he’s carried alone for years… he slept through the night.
No nightmares. No panic attacks.
Just peacefully sleeping beside me.
Emotion swells painfully in my chest as I carefully brush my fingers through the dirty blond hair falling overhis forehead.
His arm tightens. A rough, sleepy sound leaves him as he buries his face deeper against my neck.
“You’re awake,” he mutters. His voice is wrecked with sleep. It’s deep. Warm. Dangerously attractive.
“I am now,” I whisper.
“Mhm.”
I laugh softly, trying to shift enough to stretch.
Daltyn immediately drags me back against him.
“You’re crushing me,” I mumble against him.
“You’re warm.”
“That’s because you’re built like a human furnace.”
Another sleepy sound rumbles from his chest before he presses a lazy kiss against my shoulder.
“Stay anyway.”
Oh, I’m in trouble. Real trouble.
Because the terrifying, emotionally unavailable goalie who once glared at people for breathing too loudly is now half asleep, cuddling me like a giant, emotionally damaged teddy bear.
And somehow? That might be the hottest thing he’s ever done.
Hours later,I’m regretting every life decision that led me to wear ice skates.
“This is a mistake,” I announce while clinging to Daltyn’s arm for dear life.
“You’ve been skating for four minutes.”
I snort. “If you can call it that.” I wobble, gripping his arm harder. “I’ve almost died seven times,” I hiss.
“You’re dramatic.”
