Page 89 of Silver Fox Puck

But I don’t.

I can’t.

Because I don’t even know what I’d say to him right now. I let the call ring out, my chest tightening when his name disappears from my screen.

The worst part?

I don’t know if he’ll call again. The door swings open without warning.

I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “Ever heard of knocking?”

Talia steps inside, kicking the door shut behind her, completely unbothered.

“You gave me a key. That’s on you.”

She waves a bottle of wine in one hand, a bag of takeout in the other.

“Anyway. I got your emergency text and immediately assumed the worst.” She plops onto my couch like she owns the place. “But then I realized if it was really a life-or-death situation, you’d be drinking already. So. Spill.”

I cross my arms, leaning against the counter. “Not everything is a crisis.”

Talia pops open the wine, raising a brow. “So you don’t need this then?”

I stare at the bottle. Debating.

She smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Ten minutes later, I’m curled up in the corner of my couch, staring at my untouched glass of wine.

Talia takes a sip of hers, waiting.

Finally, I sigh. “A few things… all at once. About Grant.” I pause. “First, Grant has a daughter. Second, he was suspended for a year from the NHL because he fought with a player in the locker room.”

Her eyes flick to mine, but she doesn’t look surprised.

“And that’s… shocking to you?”

I frown. “Well, yeah. He never told me.”

Talia tilts her head. “How long have you been sleeping with him?”

I scowl. “First of all, screw you.”

She grins. “Fair. I get why you’re thrown. But Kenz…” She sets her glass down. “Are you freaking out because he has a kid and lost his temper, or because this thing with him suddenly feels real?”

I stiffen. “It’s not real.”

Talia snorts. “Girl, you’re sitting here avoiding him like he just told you he’s married with a secret second family. He has a kid. He was suspended but now he’s back in the league coaching. That’s not some scandal—it’s just life.”

I cross my arms. “It’s more complicated than that.”

She leans in, eyes sharp. “Is it? Or are you just trying to make it that way so you have an excuse to run?”

I open my mouth. Then close it. Because I don’t have an answer.

I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at my wine glass, replaying Talia’s words over and over.

“Are you just trying to make it complicated so you have an excuse to run?”

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