7. Daltyn
DALTYN
I open the front door, grab the food, and tip the guy.
When I turn around, I regret giving Peyton my hoodie. It swallows her whole, the sleeves hanging past her hands. Her blonde hair spills over the dark navy fabric.
Jesus Christ.
Something hot twists low in my gut.
“You’re staring again,” Peyton says casually.
I force my eyes away and shut the door with my foot. “You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”
“That was your idea.”
Fair point.
Still doesn’t mean I know how to handle it.
The scent of garlic bread and pasta fills the kitchen as I carry the bags toward the island.
Peyton immediately perks up. “Oh my God. I’m starving.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “You act shocked. Like you shouldn’t be hungry.”
“I was emotionally devastated by the bare refrigerator situation. ”
“It wasn’t bare.”
“It looked like the kitchen of a divorced man going through a crisis.”
I set the bags down harder than necessary. “I hate how accurate that is.”
Her grin widens.
She’s a threat to my sanity.
I start unpacking containers while Peyton steals a piece of garlic bread straight from the bag.
“You couldn’t wait five seconds?”
“No.”
“Brat.”
“I’m not bratty.”
“You absolutely are.”
She gasps dramatically and tears off another piece of bread.
My phone buzzes against the counter.
Then again. And again.
I ignore it, opening containers of pasta and salad.
Peyton watches me suspiciously while scooping some food onto the plate I set in front of her. “Your phone’s blowing up.”
“It’s probably Connor.”
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
I take a long drink of water and continue ignoring it.
Peyton’s eyes narrow. “Is that the group chat?” She pulls her phone out from the pocket of my hoodie.
I stay silent.
The original group chat eventually expanded into a wedding-party chat that included Ford and Harper’s bridal party, as well as Gram .
Avalanche After Dark , however, remained strictly ours.
“Can’t be that. I don’t have any new messages,” Peyton says.
Another buzz rattles across the counter.
Then another.
“Wow,” she says softly. “They’re relentless.”
“They’re idiots.”
“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I almost smile.
The kitchen settles into something dangerously close to comfortable after that.
Peyton sits in my hoodie, eating fettuccine while soft music plays from the speakers. I turned it on, hoping it would drown out the noise from my phone blowing up.
It seems to be working. For now.
Late evening light spills through the massive windows overlooking the woods.
Domestic. The thought hits hard enough to make my chest tighten.
My phone buzzes again.
Peyton points her fork toward it. “You should probably check that before Connor sends a search party.”
“He might anyway.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”
“It shouldn’t.”
Her laugh is soft and warm this time.
I grab my phone, making sure she can’t see the screen.
The Avalanche After Dark group chat is complete chaos.
Connor: Did you survive the flight or did Peyton murder you halfway home?
Jake: More importantly, did SHE survive HIM?
Cole: Connor said you’re her personal Hallmark movie hero.
Ford: Tell me you didn’t already move her into the murder cabin.
Connor: Where else would he take her?
Connor: Is she there right now??
Jake: Oh my God. She is. That’s why he’s not answering.
Cole: The Daltyn Guyer domestic era.
Ford: This is moving disturbingly fast for a man who claims he “doesn’t do relationships.”
Christ.
These fuckers are a bunch of unhinged idiots.
Me: I’m fine. She’s fine. Everything’s fine.
Connor: If you’re saying that, it’s not fine.
I roll my eyes.
Me: Thanks, Bryns. I appreciate you driving my SUV to the airport.
Connor: I wouldn’t have had to if you had let Allie and me pick you up .
I take a bite of food, still watching the chat, knowing Connor’s probably going to start shit. He always does.
Me: And I said no.
Connor: And then you threatened to tell my wife about the blonde hitting on me in Vegas if I offered to pick you up from the airport one more time.
I grin. Threats only work on him if Allie will be pissed or hurt by something he’s said or done.
Connor hadn’t done anything wrong. He was lifting with us in the hotel gym when an attractive blonde came over and started flirting with him. He shut that woman down right away. But she was relentless. Until Jake told her to leave his lover alone.
“Why are the hottest guys always gay?” she asked before she finally left him alone.
Jake: Does Peyton know you own exactly three groceries?
Connor: That was BP.
Me: BP?
Connor: Before Peyton. Now he’ll buy her the goddamn store.
I glare at my phone. I’m gonna punch that bastard.
Connor sends another message.
Connor: Tell Peyton I said hi.
Cole: Shit. He’ll buy her more than groceries. Probably a car. Unless he’s afraid she’ll run away.
“Connor making you mad?” Peyton asks.
“When doesn’t he?”
“Who said bromance is dead?”
“Me. Cause there’s no way Connor and I have any type of bromance going on. Ford is his bromance partner.”
Peyton bursts out laughing beside me. Full-on laughing. And fuck if it doesn’t make the cabin feel less empty.
My chest tightens hard enough to make me uneasy.
Ford: In all seriousness, you good?
The teasing abruptly settles something low in my chest. Despite all their bullshit, these idiots are my family.
I type back quickly.
Me: We made it home. She hurt her ankle at the airport. I ordered a CAM boot. We’re monitoring it.
The chat goes silent for approximately three seconds before it erupts again.
Connor: HE ORDERED HER A MEDICAL BOOT
Jake: brO YOU ARE DOWN HORRENDOUSLY!
Cole: This man is one flannel blanket away from building her a nursery.
Ford: You brought her home injured and started nesting.
I narrow my eyes. I’m going to kill these assholes.
“I’m blocking all of them,” I mutter.
“I thought it was Connor?” Peyton blinks at me.
“It is. And some of my teammates.”
The assholes have all ganged up on me in the chat.
My phone beeps again.
Jake: Especially now that Peyton lives with you.
Jake is going to be the first to die.