Page 46 of Puck'N Enemy
I had to catch an early bus back to campus. Training waits for no man (even if that man is ridiculously hot and sleeps like a log).
I made breakfast, so don’t leave without eating something.
Dylan.
A relieved breath escapes me. I sink back into the pillows, holding the note to my chest. A smile blossoms on my lips and soon, I can’t stop grinning like a fool.
I lie in bed for another minute, letting the quiet warmth and bubbling happiness soak through me. It’s been way too long since I’ve felt this way.
After a while, I check my phone and groan.
It’s already past eight in the morning, and time for me to leave too.
Dragging myself out of bed, I fold the sheets and put the pillows in place. Next, I get dressed and take another look at the room.
A desk, crammed with books and stacks of thick folders, stands in the corner. There’s a single chair beside it. Apart from them, the bed and a tiny closet are the only furniture in this room.
Back when we were in high school, he didn’t even have this much at his foster family’s home. An ache goes through me as I realize how little Dylan needs to be content.
I’ll give him a proper home someday, I silently vow to myself and walk out of the room.
I head into the kitchen and at once, the heady aroma of coffee wafts into my nostrils. Moving toward the counter, I find a simple spread laid out before me.
There’s a bowl of chopped melons, a plate of thick pancakes and a pan of scrambled eggs. A second note lies beside the coffee maker, making me grin.
I have your coffee ready for you. It’s especially strong and a tad bitter. Just like your mood when you let a puck pass through??
“You little shit,” I mutter, chuckling fondly.
I fold the note carefully and tuck it in my pocket before sitting down to eat breakfast.
The food is amazingly delicious. The Dylan I knew could barely make cup noodles with water boiled in a microwave.
It’s a moment before I realize how he got so good. He must’ve learned to cook to take care of Coach Becker.
I’m almost done with breakfast when I hear the sound of footsteps coming toward me.
Coach Becker shuffles into the kitchen in a loose nightrobe. An ever-weary but kind expression spreads on his face when he sees me.
“Morning, Coach,” I greet him.
“Are you heading out soon?” he asks, easing into a chair.
“Yeah,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee. “Dylan has already left, so there’s no point in my hanging around here.”
Coach nods slowly, resting his elbows on the table. “Did you two clear things up?”
“We talked,” I say slowly. “Dylan’s too scared to even let himself think I care for him. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me to convince him of that fact.”
“I’ve known the kid since he was fifteen,” Coach says. “He doesn’t let people in easily, but that was never the case with you. He let you in. And that means something.”
I swallow the sudden choke in my throat.
Coach’s expression softens. “Dylan is still carrying the guilt of what happened back then. He’s still punishing himself for hurting you.”
My jaw clenches. “He needs to stop feeling that way. For fuck’s sake, he was just seventeen at the time. He did the best he could do to protect me.”
“It’s time you protected him back,” Coach says in a gentle voice. “Dylan will never ask for it but he needs it.”
