67. Peyton
PEYTON
Somewhere between opening night and the third week of the season, Daltyn stops sleeping on his side of the bed.
Not intentionally.
It just… happens.
At first, we fall asleep with his hand on my hip, my leg tangled with his.
Eventually? He starts pulling me against him in his sleep like his body already knows where I belong.
And honestly? Maybe mine does, too.
Because without realizing it, I stop referring to the cabin as Daltyn’s place.
Now it feels like home to me.
The realization sneaks up on me quietly one morning while standing barefoot in the kitchen, wearing one of Daltyn’s hoodies while making coffee.
Home.
The word should scare me.
Instead, warmth spreads through my chest.
Behind me, strong arms slide around my waist. Daltyn presses a sleepy kiss against my neck. “You’re up early. ”
“You have practice.”
“Mhm.” He doesn’t let go.
I smile into my coffee. “Are you planning on releasing me at some point?”
“No.”
“Possessive.”
His voice rumbles against my shoulder. “You like it.”
He’s absolutely right.
Life settles into routines.
Quiet little things, like Daltyn checking the weather before I drive his SUV anywhere.
I keep protein bars stocked because apparently, hockey players survive exclusively on caffeine and poor decisions.
He automatically reaches for my hand in parking lots.
Me sitting beside Allie and Harper at games while Connor acts like he’s legally required to create chaos every intermission.
The team chirps at Daltyn nonstop because now he smiles too much.
Which honestly? Still shocks me sometimes.
Like tonight.
Connor is dramatically reenacting Daltyn glaring at him during training camp while the entire team laughs around the long restaurant table.
“You used to look at people like you were deciding where to hide the bodies,” Connor accuses.
“I still do,” Daltyn says calmly.
Ford points at him. “Not around Peyton.”
“That’s because she domesticated him,” Jake says.
Cole nods solemnly. “Like a feral mountain wolf.”
“I hate all of you,” Daltyn mutters. But he’s smiling when he says it .
And everyone notices.
Especially me.
There are still moments when I catch glimpses of who he used to be.
He becomes quiet and guarded, silently drowning.
But then he looks at me like I’m something safe. Something worth building a future around.
The realization terrifies me almost as much as it heals me.
Some nights are still harder than others.
Healing isn’t linear.
I learn that the first time Daltyn wakes from a nightmare after opening night.
I didn’t fully wake at first. I just felt him leave the bed.
Then the cold.
Then his absence.
My eyes crack open to darkness.
The bathroom light glows faintly downstairs.
I find him sitting on the back porch steps in sweatpants and a hoodie, silent and still, despite the freezing air. His elbows rest on his knees while his head hangs slightly.
The sight hits me right in the chest.
Because weeks ago? He would’ve hidden this from me.
Now? He let me find him.
Quietly, I step outside.
The cold bites through my pajamas.
Daltyn looks up the second he hears me.
For one horrible second, something guarded flickers across his face before it softens.
“Bad night?” I ask quietly.
His jaw flexes once. “Yeah.”
And God. That single word matters more than he realizes.
Because before? He would’ve said I’m fine.
Before? He would’ve suffered alone.
Now, he lets me see it.
I sit beside him without hesitation.
Our shoulders touch.
Leaves fall softly around us.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a while.
I frown. “For what?”
“For waking you up.”
Emotion lodges in my chest.
This man.
“You never have to apologize for hurting.”
His eyes close briefly.
Then slowly… his hand reaches for mine, seeking comfort.
And honestly? That might be one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.
By the third week of the season, the internet is fully obsessed with us.
Well, mostly with him.
I shake my head, a smile on my face, when I see the headline:
Hockey Goalie in Love.
Unfortunately for Daltyn, this only encourages Connor.
“Hey, Peyton,” Connor says one afternoon while we’re all leaving the arena. “Did you know our goalie smiles at his phone now?”
Daltyn flips him off.
Connor ignores him. “And last week he accidentally called you baby during an interview.”
“I did not.”
Ford snorts. “You absolutely did.”
My grin grows.
Beside me, Daltyn looks deeply betrayed. “You people are vultures.”
“Correct,” Jake says cheerfully.
Connor points at him dramatically. “YOU USED TO HISS AT HAPPINESS.”
Daltyn rolls his eyes, then slides an arm around my shoulders as we walk toward the parking lot.
And maybe the craziest part? He doesn’t even deny it anymore.