Page 22 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

"You're not what I expected, Miss Green Eyes," he says softly, using the nickname he gave me the night we met.

"Good," I reply, feeling a strange calm settle over me. "Because predictability is overrated."

He laughs then, a genuine sound that cracks through the tension. It's not a resolution—the uncertainty of our future still looms large—but it's a moment of connection in the midst of withdrawal.

Chapter 14-Dakota

Harmony looks peaceful, her auburn curls fanned across my pillow like she belongs there. Maybe she does. That's the thought that's been keeping me up at night—that this woman, somehow fits into my chaotic life. However, in three hours, she'll be on a plane back to Oklahoma, and I'll be... what? The same old Dakota Miles, Charleston's favorite hockey-playing fuck boy? The thought sits heavy in my chest.

I trace the freckles on her shoulder with my finger. We've had one week together—one week of showing her around Charleston, late-night talks at the beach bonfire spot, and mornings tangled in my sheets. One week that somehow feel more meaningful than the string of nameless hookups that came before her.

Her eyelids flutter open, those beautiful eyes focusing on me.

"You're staring," she murmurs.

"Hard not to." I give her my practiced smile, the one that makes most women blush. Harmony just raises an eyebrow.

"What time is it?" She sits up, already reaching for her phone on the nightstand.

"Too early to think about leaving," I say, trying to pull her back down.

She resists, glancing at her screen. "Dakota, my flight's at 11:30. I need to get ready."

Reality crashes in. Right. Today's the day. The last day.

I watch her gather her clothes and disappear into the bathroom, listen to the shower running and try not to think about how empty this room will feel tonight. How empty my bed will feel. How empty I might feel.

Hell, when did I turn into such a sap?

By the time she emerges in a practical button-down and jeans, hair pulled back in that no-nonsense ponytail, I've put on my game face. Dakota Miles doesn't do sad goodbyes. Dakota Miles keeps it casual, keeps it cool.

"You all packed, Miss Green Eyes?" I ask, using the nickname that made her roll her eyes the first time I used it but now sometimes makes her smile.

"Nearly." She zips up her toiletry bag. "Just need to double-check I haven't forgotten anything essential."

I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Like what? Your heart? Because I think you might be leaving that behind."

She pauses, those eyes meeting mine with an unreadable expression. "That's not funny, Dakota."

"Who says I'm joking?"

The moment stretches between us, taut with possibilities. Then she looks away, back to her suitcase. "You’re the one who said long distance relationships are too tough. Don’t tease me with possibilities. Plus, I've got two major storm systems to track when I get back. The National Weather Service doesn't care about my... personal situation."

"Right." I push off from the doorframe, grabbing a t-shirt from my drawer. "Well, can't keep those storm systems waiting."

Harmony sighs, zipping her suitcase closed with unnecessary force. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like this is easy for me." Her voice is steady, but I catch the slight tremor in her hands as she checks her ticket on her phone.

I run a hand through my sleep-mussed hair, letting out a breath. "Look, let's not make this a whole thing, okay? You've got a flight to catch."

She studies me. "Fine."

We move through the rest of the morning routine in uncomfortable silence. I carry her bags to my Porsche, trying not to think about how we stumbled through the front door with those same bags a week ago when her vacation rental flooded.

“Dakota, where’s my rental car?”

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