Page 80 of Grizz

“Because it means things are changing,” I say.“And I’m not great at that.”

Daisy shifts close enough that I can feel her warmth.“You don’t have to be great at it.You just have to be present.”

I let out a breath that’s halfway to a laugh.“You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not,” she says.“But it’s doable.”

There it is again—that steadfastness she brings into every room, every conversation.She doesn’t ask for promises.She doesn’t corner me into declarations.She just… shows up.

And somehow that feels even better.It’s what I need now.

“Eliza wanted to know if you were coming back anytime soon.”

Daisy’s eyes grow wide.“What did you tell her?”

“That you’ve got your own life here,” I say.“Which you do.”

She nods.“I do.”

“I also told her…,” I hesitate, then continue anyway, “that I like having you around.”

The words hang between us and Daisy’s breath catches.“You like having me around?”

“Yeah,” I say.“I do.”

She turns fully toward me now.“That’s not a small thing, Grizz.”

“I know.”

Her hand comes to rest on the couch cushion between us, close enough that our fingers nearly touch.“Then what are you holding back?”

The question is gentle.It’s the gentleness that makes it dangerous.

I look at her, and the answer rushes in too fast, too big.Because I can feel it there, sitting just beneath my ribs: the pull, the wanting, the terrifying urge to let her all the way in and see what happens if I stop fearing what might happen.

“I’ve spent a long time keeping parts of myself separate,” I say instead.“The hockey part.The family part.The… everything else part.”I exhale slowly.“You blur those lines.”

She nods, absorbing it without flinching.“I don’t want you to lose yourself.”

“I know,” I say.“That’s the problem.”

She doesn’t argue or reassure me with empty words.She just reaches out and lets her fingers brush mine, light and grounding.

“I’m not asking you for anything you’re not ready to give,” she says.“I just want to be here while you figure it out.”

I turn my hand, lace my fingers through hers, and for a moment I let myself lean into it.Not the future or the promise.Just this—her beside me… real and undeniably present.

I’m not ready to give hereverything.But I’m closer than I’ve ever been.And that realization feels both terrifying and inevitable.

Daisy’s phone buzzes between us, the sound small but audible in the quiet.She glances down at the screen, and her expression shifts.

“Elias,” she says.“Confirming dinner.”

I don’t say anything at first, but I feel it anyway—that tight, irrational flare in my chest, the one I don’t like admitting exists.The idea of her sitting across from him tonight, laughing the way she does when she’s comfortable, leaning in, sharing pieces of her day while I’m somewhere over Pennsylvania eating airplane food and pretending not to care.

I scoff quietly before I can stop myself.“Figures he’s there to swoop in when I leave.”

She looks up at me.“What’s that supposed to mean?”