Grizz
Tanner drags me to a luxury car dealership on a weekday afternoon after practice because he’s decided, without warning or reason, that he needs a new sports car. Classic Tanner. Who needs a reason to blow money?
I glance around. The showroom is gleaming white and glassy, full of automobiles that look engineered less for transportation and more for weaponry.
“Don’t you already have a car?” I ask.
Tanner doesn’t slow. “Three. But I don’t have this car,” he says, tapping the hood of a baby blue Bentley. Then he gestures broadly at the room, his playground full of Ferraris and Lamborghinis.
“Growth requires ambition,” Tanner says solemnly. “Also, impulse control is a scam.”
He’s got that Tanner energy today, walking all arrogant, shoulders back, chin up, fully convinced the universe is about to reward him for existing.
I pretend to be annoyed but the truth is, I’m enjoying this. Tanner is ridiculous and one of the constants that makes me smile or laugh.
At least, until I met Daisy.
He stops in front of a red Ferrari. “Oh,” he breathes. “Look at her.”
I squint. “You’re talking about the car, right?”
“She’s aggressive,” he continues reverently. “She’s fast. No question this one understands me.”
“She understands debt,” I mutter.
Tanner opens the driver’s-side door and tries to slide in but immediately encounters a problem.
He lowers his six-foot-four frame halfway into the seat and gets stuck—one knee jammed too high, the steering wheel uncomfortably close to his chest. The car emits an annoyed electronic beep.
Tanner exhales. “Why is it so… tight?”
I cross my arms. “Because you’re built like a fridge.”
“That’s not my fault,” he snaps. “That’s genetics and pasta.”
He tries to adjust the seat, wiggles his body. It beeps again. “I don’t like the tone of this car,” he mutters.
Tanner attempts to extricate himself and bangs his head on the doorframe.
“You don’t fit, genius,” I say blandly.
He straightens, offended. “I fit emotionally. Therein lies the difference.”
A salesman finally approaches, polished and hopeful, eyes darting between us. He looks at me, pauses, then does a double take.
“Grizz McAvoy?”
I nod and his smile brightens instantly. “Huge fan. Incredible season so far.”
Tanner steps closer. “He’s also an incredible friend. Loyal. Supportive. Willing to cosign on a loan.”
The salesman’s eyes go wider, taking Tanner in. “Wow… I’m a huge fan of yours too, Tanner.”
“I will absolutely not cosign,” I cut in, to make sure that’s on the record.
The salesman laughs politely. “What brings you star Vipers in today?”
Tanner gestures at the Ferrari. “Destiny, but alas, it’s not a good fit.”
“I’m sure we have a fit for your…” The salesman pauses, gestures to Tanner’s frame. “Dimensions.”
We move on mostly because Tanner physically cannot get back into that car without assistance—and stop in front of a matte black Lamborghini.
Tanner’s entire demeanor changes. He circles it slowly, running a hand along the hood.
“This,” he says quietly, “would change my life.”
“It would ruin it,” I reply. “Financially.”
He ignores me and turns to the salesman. “What’s the damage?”
The salesman’s eyes shine with the promise of an easy commission.
“Sir… that is the brand-new Temerario. Mid-engine, all-wheel drive, twin-turbo V8 with a three-motor hybrid system. Just over nine hundred horsepower, zero to sixty in under two and a half seconds. Redlines close to ten thousand. It’s the fastest thing Lamborghini’s ever put in this class.
Base price starts at three fifty before customization. ”
Tanner blinks.
“Jesus fuck,” I mutter.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “That’s… more than I thought.”
I snort. “You think?”
“But,” Tanner continues, rallying, “money is fake. And happiness is priceless.”
The salesman senses he’s going to lose the sale and looks at me for help.
“He’s emotionally attached,” I say flatly. “But even big emotions have price tag limitations.”
Tanner presses his forehead briefly against the window. “I will never own you,” he whispers to the car. “But I will think about you often.”
I hit him on the shoulder. “You’ll survive.”
He sighs deeply, dramatic to the end. “Some losses stay with you forever.”
“I’m sure we could find a fit more within your budget,” the salesman says, trying to rally.
I hold up a hand, deciding Tanner doesn’t need anyone egging him on. “How about we look around and we’ll call you over if we find something he’s interested in?”
The man’s expression crumbles but he nods. “Of course. I’ll just be over there.”
We walk a few steps toward another set of cars. “So,” Tanner says, hands shoved in his pockets. “Daisy—how’s she doing?”
My spine locks. I don’t look at him but give a noncommittal grunt. Very convincing, I’m sure. “She’s… fine.”
Tanner hums. The sound of a man filing that away for later destruction. “Uh-huh… now you wanna go silent and do the aww shucks routine, eh?”
The silence stretches and we walk another few steps.
I clear my throat. “She’s my PR rep.”
“Sure she is.”
“It’s just a fling,” I add, because apparently, I enjoy lying badly.
Tanner stops walking and turns fully toward me with an expression I don’t like. It borders on having me figured out. “My man,” he says slowly, “you’re dating.”
I scoff. “No, I’m not.”
“What you have,” he continues, undeterred, “is dating energy. Hell, practically married energy.”
I finally look at him. “Christ, Tanner. We are not married. Not even close.”
“I didn’t say you were married,” Tanner says. “I said you’re giving off married energy.”
“That’s insane,” I sputter, outraged he’d even think such a thing, but inside I have to admit… that level of commitment isn’t as off-putting as I once thought. What would a full life with Daisy look like?
“It’s observant,” he says, bending down to check out the interior of a Maserati.
I shake my head. “It’s a casual lay, Tanner. Nothing more.”
Tanner laughs so loudly the salesman who was helping us visibly jumps and looks around startled.
“Casual, my ass,” Tanner says, wiping at his eyes.
I open my mouth to argue but nothing comes out. Because… yeah, this isn’t casual at all.
Tanner’s smile softens—not teasing now, just watching. He nudges my shoulder. “Come on. Say it.”
“Say what?”
He shrugs. “Anything real.”
I exhale through my nose. “She… gets under my skin.”
Tanner doesn’t laugh. He lets me continue.
“She doesn’t flinch,” I add. “Doesn’t back down.”
“More importantly, how does she make you feel?” he asks.
I frown because he’s asking me to deep dive. “That’s not a normal question.”
“Answer it anyway.”
I scrub a hand over the back of my neck. My pulse feels loud in my ears at having the spotlight on me.
“Off-kilter, a little unsteady,” I admit. “But not in a bad way.”
Tanner nods like he’s filing it away under Things I’ve Been Waiting for You to Say.
“What’s different about her?”
I think about it longer than I want to. My eyes drift to the row of cars in front of us, all sleek curves and horsepower. All things built for control, and that’s something I feel very little of when I’m with Daisy.
“She sees me,” I say finally. “Not the version everyone else deals with. The other one.”
“And so what are you afraid of?” he asks. “’Cause that’s always the catch with you.”
That one hits heavier. I take a moment to consider. “That I’ll fuck it up.”
Tanner studies me for a beat. Then he nods like he’s reached a conclusion. “You got two choices, big guy. Run from it or grow from it. And you’re too old to be running from stuff that could make you better.”
I stare at him, genuinely stunned. “What?” I ask. “Who are you right now?”
He shrugs, but there’s nothing flippant about his expression.
“How do you even know this stuff?” I press.
Tanner goes quiet, which is quite jarring for a man who can’t ever seem to shut up. He glances somewhere past me… like he’s staring at a version of his life that went in another direction.
It’s the first time all day he doesn’t fill the space with noise or jokes or bravado.
Maybe for the first time ever, in fact. “I learned the hard way,” he says.
“Lost a good one years ago, right before I got drafted.” He looks up, as if reliving the memory of it.
“Didn’t know what I wanted until it was gone.
I was too young to know what I had with her.
I’m not ever making that mistake again.”
I look at him differently now. Not as the guy who never shuts up, not as comic relief, but as someone who’s been wrecked and kept moving, anyway.
Tanner meets my gaze, then smirks faintly. “Don’t get weird about it.”
“Too late,” I mutter.
He claps my shoulder once, solid and grounding. “Just don’t be an idiot,” he says. “She seems… worth not being one.”
And for once, I don’t argue.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and before I even pull it out, my body tightens in recognition.
“Eliza,” I mutter, already bracing myself.
Tanner notices—the way my shoulders go rigid, the way my weight shifts. I step a few feet away and answer. “Hey,” I say, keeping my voice normal, even though my heart is hammering.
Her voice comes through thin and brittle, stretched taut like it might snap if she pushes it any harder. She’s breathing unevenly, trying to hold herself together, failing by inches.
“Grizz.”
That single word tells me everything.
“What happened?” I ask quietly, my grip tightening on the phone.
There’s a pause, then a breath that shudders on the other end of the line.
“Dad… got hurt.” The air leaves my lungs all at once.
“He tried to make oatmeal,” she says, her voice wobbling.
“He left the burner on and a towel caught. It wasn’t…
it wasn’t a big fire, but—” Her breath stutters.
“He burned his hand trying to put it out.”
I close my eyes, pressing my free hand into my thigh. I’m angry at this disease that’s making things so hard for Eliza. “I should’ve stopped him,” she continues, the words tumbling faster now, urgency bleeding into guilt. “I should’ve been in the kitchen. I should’ve—I should’ve—”