There she is. Waiting for me.
And for the first time in a long damn time, someone waiting for me feels right instead of terrifying.
“You survived,” she teases as I approach.
“Barely.”
Harper snorts. “The guys were chirping him nonstop.”
“They’re emotional support idiots,” Ford says, coming up behind me.
Connor appears a second later. “Correction. We’re his emotional support idiots because he clearly can’t function on his own anymore.”
Peyton laughs softly. The sound hits me right in the damn chest.
Connor notices too, judging by the way his grin turns downright feral.
“Ohhhh,” he says slowly. “He likes hearing her laugh.”
“Byrns,” I warn.
“What? I’m observing.”
“You’re annoying.”
“And yet I’m still your favorite teammate.”
Ford laughs. “Not even close.”
Connor places a hand over his heart. “Wow. Betrayal.”
While they argue, my attention drifts back to Peyton automatically. Always back to her.
“You hungry?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Starving.”
“Good.” I take her bag from Harper before sliding my hand carefully beneath Peyton’s elbow. “I know a place.”
Her smile widens.
Worth every second of the chirping.
Connor gasps dramatically behind me. “HE’S TAKING HER FOR POST-RINK FOOD!” His voice echoes around the rink.
“Oh, this is getting serious,” Jake yells from behind us.
I don’t even bother turning around this time. Because Peyton’s smiling up at me.
And suddenly?
Nothing else matters.
TheBlue LineDineris warm and crowded when we walk inside, smelling like fries, burgers, and coffee.
Peyton relaxes beside me when we slide into a booth near the back.
“This place is cute,” she says, glancing around.
