I smile shakily. “You won’t need it.” But I reach my finger up and press it against his lips. “Good luck, baby.”
His eyes warm at theconfidence in my voice.
Then, the goalie mask lowers into place.
And just like that, my soft, sleepy, emotionally vulnerable boyfriend transforms into something terrifying.
The crowdabsolutely erupts as Daltyn skates onto the ice.
Gram slides into the seat beside me, holding a giant pretzel. “When he fights someone,” she says calmly, “I’m recording it.”
“Where did you come from?” I stare at her. “You appeared out of nowhere.”
“Like Batman,” she says proudly.
The lights dim across the arena.
The Avalanche team explodes onto the ice.
Our eyes lock, and Daltyn smiles before skating past me. Like no matter how loud the arena gets… he still found me first.
As thousands of fans scream around me, one thing settles quietly and completely inside my chest.
I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life.
67
PEYTON
Somewhere between opening night and the third week of the season, Daltyn stops sleeping on his side of the bed.
Not intentionally.
It just… happens.
At first, we fall asleep with his hand on my hip, my leg tangled with his.
Eventually? He starts pulling me against him in his sleep like his body already knows where I belong.
And honestly? Maybe mine does, too.
Because without realizing it, I stop referring to the cabin as Daltyn’s place.
Now it feels like home to me.
The realization sneaks up on me quietly one morning while standing barefoot in the kitchen, wearing one of Daltyn’s hoodies while making coffee.
Home.
The word should scare me.
Instead, warmth spreads through my chest.
Behind me, strong arms slide around my waist. Daltyn presses a sleepy kiss against my neck. “You’re up early.”
“You have practice.”
“Mhm.” He doesn’t let go.
