Page 75 of The Equation of Us

The offer is tempting—more than tempting. “Sadie’s here,” I warn.

“I don’t mind if she doesn’t.”

I glance at Sadie, who’s pretending not to eavesdrop. “Hold on.” I cover the phone. “Dean wants to come over with ice cream. That okay with you?”

“Ice cream?” Her eyes light up. “Hell yes. Tell Hot Hockey Boy he’s welcome anytime he brings dessert.”

I roll my eyes and return to the call. “Sadie says it’s fine.”

“Good. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” There’s a pause, then, softer, “I missed you today.”

The simple admission makes my heart flutter embarrassingly. “I missed you too,” I say quietly.

We hang up, and I catch Sadie’s knowing smirk. “Don’t,” I warn.

“I didn’t say anything,” she says, raising her hands innocently. “But if I did, it would be something about how you’re falling hard for this guy.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. Because she’s right, and we both know it.

Fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock at our door. Sadie hops up to answer it, swinging the door open with a flourish.

“Dean Carter,” she announces dramatically. “Bearer of ice cream and crusher of hockey pucks. Enter, good sir.”

Dean looks slightly bemused as he steps inside, a grocery bag in one hand. “Hey, Sadie.”

His eyes find mine immediately, concern evident in his expression as he takes in my curled-up position on the bed, heating pad clutched to my abdomen.

“Hey,” he says, moving to sit on the edge of my bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” I admit. “But the heating pad helps.”

He sets the bag on my nightstand, pulling out not just ice cream but also a chocolate bar, a bottle of Advil, and a small package of what looks like herbal tea.

“I wasn’t sure what you might need,” he explains at my surprised expression. “So I covered the basics.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” I say, touched by the thoughtfulness.

“I wanted to.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face, the gesture so tender it makes my throat tight. “Besides, you’d do the same for me.”

“You planning on getting a period anytime soon, Carter?” Sadie quips from her desk.

He shoots her a look. “You know what I mean.”

I reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you. This is… really nice.”

Dean smiles—that rare, genuine smile that transforms his usually serious face. “You’re welcome.” He leans in and presses a light kiss to my forehead, then my lips, mindful of Sadie’s presence.

The domesticity of the moment strikes me—Dean bringing me period supplies, sitting on my bed looking concerned, the casual affection between us. It feels relationship-like in a way that catches me off guard. We’ve had plenty of hot moments, even shared personal stories—but this feels different. More intimate somehow.

“I should go,” Dean says after a moment, clearly conscious of Sadie’s presence. “Let you rest. But text me if you need anything else, okay?”

“You can stay for a bit,” I offer. “If you want. We could watch something on my laptop?”

He hesitates, glancing at Sadie.

“Don’t mind me,” she says, gathering her books. “I was heading to the study lounge anyway. Some of us don’t have hothockey players bringing us ice cream and have to actually work for our grades.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Dean and I say almost simultaneously.

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