21. Peyton
PEYTON
I should probably feel awkward squeezed into a crowded diner booth with half the Green Mountain Avalanche hockey team.
Okay, maybe not quite half, but five of them.
Instead, I’m trying not to choke on mozzarella sticks while Connor argues with the waitress about ranch dressing.
“It’s not enough ranch,” he says seriously.
The waitress blinks. “Sir, I brought you three cups.”
Connor points dramatically. “I happen to love ranch. And it would be a tragedy to run out.”
Allie drags a hand down her face. “I’m begging you to stop talking.”
“I refuse to live in fear of that happening.”
Jake steals one of Connor’s fries while he’s distracted.
Connor notices and gasps loudly. “THIEF.”
“This is why nobody respects you,” Ford mutters.
Meanwhile, from beside me, Daltyn watches the chaos unfold with an expression somewhere between annoyance and fondness. Being pressed up against his big, warm body is like having my own personal heater. And I’m not at all mad about it.
But the weirdest part of the hockey team chaos? They all keep dragging me into the conversation like I’ve always been here. Not awkwardly or politely. Naturally.
Harper leans closer to me. “Ignore them. Hockey players share one collective brain cell.”
Ford points at her. “Rude.”
“You know it’s true.”
Jake nods solemnly. “Connor had the brain cell earlier, but then he ate too many mozzarella sticks.”
Connor looks genuinely offended. “I can multitask.”
Allie snorts like she disagrees.
“You put your phone in the refrigerator,” Cole reminds him.
“That was one time.”
“It was this morning,” Allie says.
I laugh so hard I nearly snort soda through my nose.
The entire table goes quiet for half a second before Connor points dramatically at me. “There it is.”
I blink. “What?”
“A real laugh,” Harper says softly.
Heat crawls into my cheeks.
Because they’re right. That wasn’t fake or forced. For once, I didn’t think about how I sounded or whether I looked stupid or if someone would judge me for it.
I glance at Daltyn.
Until him.
I started laughing freely when I met him.
And not just laughing, but being myself.
The realization hits me strangely hard.
Daltyn’s gaze locks onto mine. And for one quiet moment, the noise around us fades .
His expression softens slightly, as if seeing me happy matters to him.
The thought sends warmth spilling through my chest. Dangerous warmth.
“So,” Connor says loudly, ruining the moment. “Peyton. We need important information.”
“Oh no,” Daltyn mutters.
Connor ignores him. “Tell us what living with Vermont Batman in his murder cabin is like.”
I choke on my drink. “His what?”
Daltyn groans and mutters, “Ignore him.”
Jake points at Daltyn. “Bro lives in the woods like a cryptid.”
Cole nods. “Pretty sure he communicates with raccoons.”
“I do not communicate with raccoons.”
Connor grins. “The raccoons told us otherwise.”
Allie leans toward me conspiratorially. “You should’ve seen him during rookie year. He barely talked.”
Ford snorts. “Barely? He looked physically offended anytime someone spoke to him.”
Daltyn glares at them. “You’re all exaggerating.”
“No, we aren’t,” Cole says.
“He once stared at Connor for three straight minutes instead of answering a question,” Jake tells me.
Connor points at Daltyn dramatically. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
“Still might,” Daltyn mutters.
I laugh again.
And there it is again. Like something inside me is slowly unclenching.
And I realize, these people aren’t watching me carefully, waiting for me to mess up .
They’re just… including me. Like it’s effortless. Like they already decided I belong here.
My throat tightens unexpectedly.
I glance down at my drink quickly before anyone notices.
But of course, Daltyn notices.
His eyes narrow slightly. Concern flickers across his face. That same protective look he always gets when he thinks something’s wrong.
And suddenly I realize something terrifying.
I’m starting to feel safe here. Safe with him. Safe with all of them.
Which means leaving might hurt a whole lot more than I originally thought.