8. Peyton
PEYTON
The cabin is quiet at night in a way I’m not used to.
The occasional creak of wood settles around me while the wind brushes softly against the trees outside. Somewhere upstairs, Daltyn’s footsteps move across the loft before going still.
My gaze stays fixed on the ceiling while I tug the oversized Avalanche hoodie sleeves farther over my hands.
It still smells like him. Cedar. Soap. Something warm and masculine lingering in the fabric that makes my stomach flutter every time I inhale too deeply.
This entire day feels surreal.
This morning, I woke up technically homeless.
Now I’m lying in a ridiculously comfortable bed in a millionaire hockey goalie’s secluded Vermont cabin, wearing his clothes while he orders medical equipment and mentally builds grocery lists around me.
My lips twitch slightly.
Daltyn is weirdly grounded for someone only twenty-three years old. Honestly, I was surprised at his age when I Googled him in Vegas .
I knew who Daltyn Guyer was.
When he replaced the previous goalie, whose career was ended by a serious injury, Landon ranted about Daltyn like a man possessed. He couldn’t get a shot in the net from the moment Daltyn took over.
I had no idea what his story was, though.
Even though I checked the team page and followed the team’s socials after that kiss in Vegas, there was hardly any personal information about him.
Most guys his age probably aren’t ordering CAM boots. Or making notes about the toiletries I’ll need. Or carrying a homeless woman around. Or threatening bodily harm if I walk on an injured ankle.
The scary part? None of it feels forced.
He just... does it.
Like taking care of people is instinctive for him.
Or maybe just taking care of me.
The thought sends warmth through my chest that has absolutely nothing to do with the hoodie.
I roll onto my side, staring toward the dark hallway outside the room. The cabin is beautiful and safe, yet still feels lonely somehow. Like Daltyn built a fortress out here in the woods and forgot that people were supposed to actually live inside it.
Until now.
My throat tightens unexpectedly. Temporary. That’s all this is.
I’m staying here temporarily.
So why does the thought of eventually leaving make my chest ache a little?
I exhale slowly and glance toward the window.
Moonlight spills across the room in pale silver streaks, illuminating the dark furniture and soft blankets. Beyond the glass, the woods stretch endlessly into darkness.
It should feel creepy. Instead, it feels peaceful. Protected. Like nothing bad can reach me out here.
Another soft creak sounds overhead. My gaze drifts upward automatically.
Daltyn’s up there. Probably pacing. Probably overthinking and muttering about his refrigerator again.
A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
God. This man ordered me a medical boot less than five hours after I got hurt.
Something tightens painfully in my chest.
Landon used to get irritated anytime I was sick or injured. Like my pain inconvenienced him somehow.
The memory sours the warmth curling through me.
Daltyn’s the complete opposite. Protective. Careful. Attentive in ways that almost seem instinctive. Like the second something hurts me, it becomes personal to him.
That should probably terrify me.
Instead, it makes me feel safe enough that my eyes begin growing heavy for the first time in weeks.
I pull the blanket higher and breathe in the scent of cedar and Daltyn one last time.
Then I fall asleep, wondering what the hell I’m going to do if this starts feeling too much like home.