A delicious thrill goes through me, knowing his last name and number are stretched across my back.
Somehow, wearing it tonight feels bigger than hockey. Bigger than a game.
It feels like belonging.
Daltyn’s eyes drag over me slowly before settling back on my face. “You look good in my jersey.” A smirk curls his lips. “Especially with my name on your back.”
Oh.
Oh, that should be illegal.
Heat floods my cheeks.
Behind us, Connor makes a choking sound. “I’m going to throw myself directly onto the ice.”
Ford nods solemnly. “That was disgustingly romantic.”
Jake points at us. “You two are becoming unbearable.”
Cole squints at Daltyn suspiciously. “What happened to the emotionally unavailable cryptid who used to glare at us in silence?”
Daltyn doesn’t even look away from me. “She killed him.”
My heart stumbles violently.
Connor clutches his chest dramatically. “HE’S STILL SAYING ROMANTIC THINGS. SOMEBODY SEDATE ME.”
I’m laughing so hard I barely notice when Daltyn’s fingers curl gently around my wrist.
His touch grounds me.
That’s the thing about him now. He touches me constantly, like his body seeks mine before his brain even realizes it.
And tonight? There’s no tension in him. No spiraling. No shadows to swallow him whole.
Just focus and calm confidence. Like he finally feels emotionally grounded.
The realization makes my throat tighten.
An arena worker suddenly pokes his head into the hallway. “Two minutes!”
Chaos erupts around us.
Players start moving toward the ice.
Connor points at Daltyn while backing away dramatically. “If you prevent the other team from scoring tonight, I expect a forehead kiss at center ice.”
“You’re an idiot,” Daltyn says flatly.
Connor pauses. “I’ve been told that before.”
Ford grabs Connor by the jersey and drags him away before Daltyn murders him.
“Love you, Pey!” Connor yells.
Jake points at me next. “If he gets emotional, just throw snacks at him.”
Cole nods seriously. “Works on bears, too.”
