Page 100 of Silver Fox Puck

Not after everything. Not after how many times I’ve pushed him away.

So now? Now, I have to prove it.

I step forward. So close to him that I can feel the heat coming off him.

“I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear.” My voice is steady. Sure. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”

He still doesn’t move. Still doesn’t break.

But something flickers behind his dark eyes. Something I can’t quite place.

And I know—I’m getting through. He doesn’t speak right away.

Doesn’t move.

Just stands there, watching me, measuring me, waiting to see if I’ll fold.

And maybe the old me would have.

Maybe I would have laughed it off, made a joke, shrugged like none of this really mattered.

But I don’t.

Because it does.

And this time, I refuse to run.

I hold his stare.

“I’m not walking away this time.”

Grant’s jaw ticks. His hands flex at his sides.

But his expression? Still unreadable.

“And when it gets hard?” His voice is low. Controlled. Like he’s bracing for my answer.

I swallow. Then straighten.

“Then I fight.”

The silence stretches.

The weight of it thickens the air.

Then, finally—

Grant exhales. Slow. Measured. Like I just said something that shouldn’t be a relief. But somehow is.

And then—he moves. Not fast. Not sudden. Just deliberate. Like he’s making a choice, too.

He stops in front of me in that way he has and I have to tilt my chin up to keep eye contact.

His gaze searches mine. For doubt. For hesitation. For any sign that I don’t really mean this.

I don’t blink.

Because I do.

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