Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DYLAN
Sleep evades me. I just lie there, in her bed, her bare leg tangled with mine, and her head on my chest like she belongs there. And I watch the ceiling shift from shadows to morning light, my arm aching beneath the weight of the night.
I should feel elated, maybe. Like I finally got the thing I’ve been chasing.
But I don’t. I feel raw and unsteady. Like I’m one wrong move away from messing everything up.
She stirred once in the night, murmured something I couldn’t catch, and then curled closer like I was something warm and safe. And I held her tighter, pretending I could be that. Pretending I wasn’t quietly falling apart under her touch.
Her alarm goes off at half-seven, and she groans against me, muffling her face into my chest before slapping her alarm clock.
I half-smile. “Morning.”
She lifts her head and blinks at me, hair in a mess, and with eyes heavy and hooded. “Hi.”
It’s awkward. But not bad awkward. Just new, and it hits me all over again. We crossed the line. No going back now, not that I want to but I know her usual M.O. She lets me in and then pulls away, and I’m not sure I can allow that now we’ve had sex. God, this feelings shit is all new to me.
She pulls the sheet tighter around her as she sits up, like modesty means anything after last night. I sit too, scrubbing a hand over my face.
“You working today?”
She shakes her head. “Day off.”
I nod. “Good.”
Because I’m not sure I could handle watching her pretend we didn’t just wreck each other in her bed. Not yet.
“Want me to make coffee?” I offer, trying for casual.
She smiles, soft and sleepy. “Sure. You know where the kitchen is.”
I slip out of bed and find my clothes, feeling her eyes on me as I move. Her gaze isn’t possessive or teasing. Just thoughtful. A little stunned, maybe. Like we’re both still processing what we are now.
And honestly? I’m right there with her.
By the time I’m dressed and two mugs deep into the strongest coffee I could manage, I’ve got my phone out, checking messages from the group chat. Murphy’s already been mouthing off in private voice notes about “Rinkside Romeo.”
I wince.
The idiot definitely saw the kiss last night.
I shoot him a quick text.
Dylan: Don’t start.
Murphy: Already did, sweetheart.
Murphy: You kissed her like it was a movie finale. You gonna tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?
Dylan: Meet me at the pub tonight.
Murphy: You buying?
Dylan: You’re lucky I don’t make you pay for therapy after what you saw.
Murphy: You wish you looked that good from behind.
I smirk and pocket the phone. I should be annoyed, but Murphy’s the only person who could drag this out of me without making it worse.
Mia appears by my side, freshly showered and dressed in gym leggings and a cropped sweatshirt.
Her stomach is clearly visible and there’s an urge to within me to run my tongue along the bare skin.
Instead, I reach for her and pull her into my lap.
She’s a willing victim. Mia fits perfectly on my thigh and I tuck her into my side as I kiss the side of her forehead.
I don’t miss the contented exhale as she wraps her arms around my neck.
“I need to talk to Murphy,” she says quietly. “I can’t risk him spilling to Jonno or worse, management.” Her eyes lift to meet mine with an uncertainty that I feel deep in my gut.
There’s nothing I want more than to assure her he wouldn’t do that but we both know Murphy can’t hold his own water.
Never mind keeping a secret. My arms tighten around her waist as I shuffle back on the sofa, holding her against me.
“Leave it with me. I’ve just messaged him.
I’m meeting him at the pub later, I’ll make sure he understands what’s at stake. ”
God knows if I can make him see sense but I’m sure as hell gonna try. I feel her relax a little in my arms and that ramps up the pressure I already feel. This is on me now. I have to keep her safe.
The pub’s quieter than usual when I walk in just after six. Murphy’s already at the booth, two pints deep and grinning like a shark.
“Evening, Casanova.” Murphy raises his glass and takes a good long drink of his beer.
“Piss off,” I mutter, sliding into the seat opposite.
He raises a brow. “So, how long’s this been going on?”
I shrug. “It’s not like that.”
Murphy laughs. “Mate, I watched you tonguing her in a carpark. It’s exactly like that.”
I stare down at my pint, watching the bubbles rise. “It’s complicated.”
“Because of the job?” he asks, more serious now.
I nod. “She’s worried. There’s some policy about not dating players. If this gets out, she could lose everything.”
Murphy exhales. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a moment of quiet between us, then he leans forward. “You in over your head?”
I meet his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Murphy studies me. “Look, I’ll give you this, she’s good for you. Calms you down. You’re less of a prick lately, and your game is unreal. Nobody is getting near you on the ice at the minute.”
I huff out a laugh. “Cheers, mate.”
“But,” he adds, “if you hurt her, if you treat this like all the others, I’ll knock your teeth in. She’s not a game, Dylan.” I knew Mia was popular with the players, but I wasn’t prepared for that from Murphy.
“I know, Murph.” I say, sharper than I mean to. Because he’s right. She’s not a game to me. She’s the first thing that’s felt real in a long time.
And I’m terrified of screwing it up, of someone else screwing it up.
“Look, you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important, but I need you to keep this on the down low.
Just for now at least, until I figure out if her job is at risk or if there’s some way around that.
” I look at him with hopeful eyes. I’m basically begging.
Murphy takes another long pull of his beer before he sets it back on the table, he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth before he speaks.
“Hey, I ain’t about to throw you under the bus.
That’s not who I am, you know that,” he leans in a little closer to the table and rests his elbows.
“But if I’ve seen it, you can bet your arse Danny has.
If he hasn’t, if he’s too stupid to see what’s under his face, then I guarantee it won’t be long before he or one of the others puts two and two together. ”
There’s a few minutes silence as we both drain the last of our beer.
“I wont breathe a word but maybe Mia needs to speak to Jonno first, before he finds out through the grapevine.”
Later, when I’m back home, I lie on the sofa, phone in hand, thumb hovering over her name.
I want to call her but I don’t. Instead, I type a message.
Dylan: Let me know when you’re free tomorrow. I’ll pick you up.
I stare at the screen until the dots appear.
Mia: Thanks. I’ll let you know. And thank you for last night. For staying.
My chest tightens. I type and delete three replies before landing on:
Dylan: Anytime.
I set the phone down and lean back, hands behind my head, heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with her.
Because I’m in deep now, and I don’t know how to protect her from the fallout when everything else I touch turns to wreckage.