“He works hard during camp,” I say from behind her. “Harder than any other kid on the ice and it shows.”

She walks to him and kisses his cheek and then comes back out of the room. “He’s out.” She smiles. “Not even pizza would wake him.”

“I don’t know about that. He’s probably getting energy to eat again,” I say, and then I turn to walk back to the kitchen, and she stands there. “What do you want to do, Caroline?”

“Um …” she says. I see her playing with her fingers, and I know that she does that when she’s nervous.

“Would you be mad if I said I wanted to go lie in bed?” she asks softly, and I just shake my head.

“Not at all,” I say and then walk to her, and I kiss her lips. “Good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, Justin,” she says, and she walks away, going to her bedroom, but this time, I don’t hear the soft close of the door because she leaves it open.

I grab my phone and walk to my own room. Slipping under the sheets, I turn on the television and put it on SportsCenter. I listen for any noises, and when it finally hits eleven, I turn off my light and fall asleep in record time.

I don’t know how long I sleep, but when I finally open my eyes, I see that my door is closed, and I hear voices coming from the kitchen.

I get up and go to the bathroom and brush my teeth, giving my cock enough time to get presentable. “Morning,” I mumble and look at them. She’s in the kitchen cooking while Dylan sits at the island eating.

“Did we wake you?” she asks, worried. I just shake my head and go over to her and bend to kiss her. “I made coffee,” she says, and I look around.

“What time did you wake up?” I ask, spotting all the food. There are pancakes and scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, and some toast.

“I woke up at around six, and after lying in bed for about twenty minutes, I got up and decided I was going to cook breakfast before I left.”

“How did you sleep?” I ask, and she grabs her cup of coffee and tries to hide her smile with it.

“Like I was floating on a cloud,” she says. “It was awful.”

“I slept like a king,” Dylan says. “There are no lumps in his couch.”

I try not to laugh and grab the coffee. “With that said, I have to leave or I’m going to be late,” she says. “Do you mind if I take these clothes home and then bring them back tonight?”

“Nope,” I say, and she smiles, grabbing her purse and going over to Dylan.

“Be good.” She kisses his cheek, and I grab the keys.