Page 102 of Silver Fox Puck

We drive for a few minutes before Grant speaks. His voice is quiet, rough.

"So, are we talking about it?"

I swallow, staring straight ahead.

"Depends."

"On?"

I exhale. “On whether you’re going to give me shit for how long it took me to get here.”

Grant huffs out a laugh.

Not sarcastic. Not sharp.

Just… real.

"I think I gave you enough of a warning back at the rink."

I smirk, because he’s not wrong.

Then I steal another glance at him.

"So… are you still mad at me?"

His fingers flex on the wheel.

"Mad?" he echoes. "No."

I wait. Because there’s more. There’s always more with Grant. And after a moment, he gives it to me.

"Just wondering if I’m about to get my heart ripped out again."

My stomach tightens. Because I deserve that. I deserve every bit of his hesitation.

But the fact that he’s saying it aloud, the fact that he’s even admitting that I had that kind of power over him—

It cracks something inside me.

And suddenly, the words are right there, right on the edge of my lips.

"I don’t want to hurt you, Grant."

He’s silent for a long moment.

Then he exhales.

"Then don’t."

The drive is different after that.

Not tense. Not heavy.

Just… different.

Like we both know what’s coming next. Like we’re both bracing for it.

When we pull into my driveway, Grant puts the car in park but doesn’t move. Neither do I. Because now that we’re here, the weight of the moment is pressing down on me.

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