Daisy
I’m lying on my couch staring at the ceiling. Maybe it might offer answers if I give it enough time.
It doesn’t.
I toss and turn, tugging the throw blanket up and then quickly pushing it back down. Restlessness gnaws at me, and there’s an ache beneath my ribs that has nothing to do with illness and everything to do with unfinished conversations.
“Where is he?” I mutter to the empty apartment.
I check my watch for the third time in under a minute. Elias was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.
It’s been three days since the blowup with Grizz on the bench. Three days since the stick, the words, the way he looked at me with condemnation because I’d reached somewhere raw and dangerous without permission. Three days of silence between us and I can’t stand how things are unresolved.
I sit up just as the doorbell rings and my pulse spikes. I’m off the couch and halfway to the door before I remind myself to breathe. When I open it, there he is… Elias.
He looks me up and down, one brow lifting as if he’s already clocked the tension vibrating off me. His hands are full—two bottles of wine tucked under one arm, a pint of ice cream balanced precariously in his one palm, and a crinkling bag of chips clenched in his free hand.
“I come bearing provisions,” he announces. “For whatever emotional apocalypse we’re dealing with tonight.”
Relief hits me so hard my knees almost buckle.
“Thank God,” I say, stepping aside to let him in. “And thank you for coming last minute. I’m a wreck.”
Elias kicks the door shut behind him and lays everything onto the counter, setting up camp. “I figured. You’ve been giving off ‘spiraling but pretending I’m fine’ energy for days.”
I huff out a hollow laugh. “I’m not pretending.”
“That’s the pretending part,” he says gently.
He looks around my apartment, then back at me, his expression softening. “Okay,” he says. “I’m ready for anything and everything.”
Elias pauses in front of the counter, one hand braced on the marble, the other hovering over the spread like he’s weighing a life-or-death decision. “You get to choose. Wine first? Ice cream? Chips? Or are we doing the whole kit and caboodle?”
I don’t even hesitate. “I need everything.”
He nods slowly, solemn. “Got it. Serious.”
Elias pours the wine without commentary, hands me the glass.
I sip on it as he grabs spoons for the ice cream like a man executing a well-rehearsed emergency protocol.
“So, what’s going on with you? I feel there’s probably a long story and I’m in the dark…
and you know I don’t enjoy being in the dark. ”
“There’s a story all right,” I mutter and take a larger sip of my wine. I tell Elias about what happened, laying out for him in excruciating detail every word that was said, every expression I observed, anything I can remember, so he can help me figure out how to fix it.
“It’s been three days,” I tell him upon conclusion. “And Grizz and I haven’t spoken once. I think it’s over between us. Completely done.”
“Have you tried to call him?” he asks.
“Once, and I sent a text. He hasn’t responded and I got a message from the front office that I wasn’t needed on this away trip they’re on. I know Grizz put that into motion. Elias, I don’t even know if I have a job anymore.”
“This is bad,” he says quietly.
“It’s beyond complicated,” I reply, which is the most dishonest word in my vocabulary.
We take everything to the couch—wine, ice cream, spoons, chips—and settle in. Elias leans back, one ankle crossed over his knee, posture relaxed but attentive. I curl into the corner, the weight of the last few days pressing down now that I’ve stopped moving.
I stare at the wall for a moment before I start talking. “I didn’t mean to do it,” I say finally. “I never meant to stir that up for him.”
“I know you didn’t,” he says automatically. “You don’t have that in you.”
“I was just trying to do my job,” I continue, voice tight. “The interview, the fallout, the league—he crossed a line on live TV. I had to step in. I had to say something. And when I said, ‘It’s about more than you,’ I had no idea it would trigger all these horrible childhood memories with him.”
“How could you know?” Elias asks, rhetorically but no less firmly in my defense.
“The second the words left my mouth, it was like I watched him disappear,” I whisper. “Like he went somewhere else completely. And then he looked at me and said I sounded like his father and—” I break off, pressing my lips together hard. “I would never do that to him on purpose. Ever.”
Elias’s expression softens, his voice low. “I know.”
“I keep replaying it,” I say, the ice cream untouched in my lap. “Wondering if I should’ve said something different. If I should’ve just let it go. Part of me feels awful, like I opened a locked box inside him that he’s spent his whole life trying to keep sealed.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Daisy. You couldn’t have known that his dad said those same words. He needs to cut you some slack.”
I nod, because I know deep down, Elias is right.
I know even deeper down in my own heart that I never meant to hurt Grizz.
“I was doing my job. I had to intervene. That’s what Julian hired me for.
That’s what the team expects. And now it feels…
messy. Maybe I’m both right and wrong at the same time. ”
Elias finally reaches over, taking the ice cream container from my hands before it thoroughly melts, and sets it on the coffee table.
“Daisy,” he says, turning. “Listen to me.”
My gaze drops to my wineglass for a moment before lifting to lock onto him.
“I know who you are,” he continues. “I’ve known you for a very long time.
You don’t manipulate people. You don’t exploit their pain or weaponize trauma.
” He holds my gaze, unwavering. “You were doing right by all parties. By the team. By the league. And yes—by Grizz, even if he can’t see that right now. ”
My eyes sting and I blink rapidly before any tears can form.
“You didn’t cause his pain,” Elias adds. “You ran into it. That pain was already there, long before you ever opened your mouth.”
I look at him, my dear friend, who knows me better than I know myself sometimes. “Thank you. I think I know that, but it helps to hear you say it.”
“And you absolutely cannot carry the weight of his father’s damage on your shoulders,” he says firmly. “That’s not your burden. Regret will eat you alive if you let it, and you don’t deserve that.”
He softens again, squeezing my knee. “This doesn’t make you cruel. And it sure doesn’t make you careless or wrong. It makes you human, doing a hard job in an impossible situation. If Grizz is half the man I think he is, he’s going to come to that same conclusion.”
I let out a shaky breath, just enough to ease some of the hurt. “You really think it will be okay?”
“I do. And I don’t think you should be consumed by this. Grizz has to find his way through that on his own.”
I nod slowly, clutching my wineglass with both hands. We sit there in the dim light, the city humming faintly outside my windows, the mess of it all finally existing out loud.
Elias sets his glass down with intention, the sound soft but grounding.
“Okay,” he says gently. “We need to level-set.”
I hate that he’s right. I hate that I feel wrung out, frayed at the edges. I barely recognize myself.
“I don’t want to see you like this,” he continues. “This isn’t the Daisy I know. The Daisy I know and love is a strong woman who doesn’t spiral or disappear into regret.”
I swallow. “I’m done spiraling. And I refuse to regret this.”
Elias leans forward, forearms on his knees. “We need a game plan. And it starts with one question.” He holds my gaze. “What do you want, Daisy… deep down. What do you actually want?”
I stare at my wine for a long beat, watching the light catch in the glass, buying time because once I start, I know I won’t be able to stop.
“I couldn’t stand him,” I say finally, a faint, incredulous smile pulling at my mouth.
Elias laughs. “That’s not where I thought this was going to go, but okay… I’m listening.”
I offer him a half-hearted smile. “When I first met Grizz, he was everything I detested. He was volatile. Arrogant. The league’s favorite problem child who got away with things because he could score and sell jerseys.” I shake my head. “He represented power without accountability.”
“The exact system you’ve spent your career pushing back against,” Elias says.
“Exactly. I thought he was lazy with his humanity. Reckless with other people.” My smile shifts—softens, turns inward. I look my best friend dead in the eye. “And I was wrong. So very wrong. Once I got to know him, he wasn’t everything I hated. He was everything I was scared of.”
Elias’s expression dials in. “You’re not afraid of anything.”
“Yeah… I was scared because he was everything I could possibly want, and somehow it seemed way too good to be real and for the long run. He’s painfully true to himself,” I continue.
“He doesn’t curate a version that’s easy to digest. He doesn’t hide behind polish or charm.
He just… is. Even when it costs him.” My voice wobbles slightly. “Especially when it costs him.”
I shake my head slowly. “He remembers things. Small things.”
Elias snorts. “That’s your bar now? Remembering things? Daisy, didn’t you tell me he once forgot his own birthday?”
“That’s not what I mean,” I say quickly. “He notices when I’m overwhelmed before I say a word. He listens—even when he pretends he doesn’t.”
Elias tilts his head, unconvinced. “He’s volatile and stubborn and holds grudges like a child. And let’s not pretend he isn’t emotionally allergic to talking things through.”
I laugh, but it’s watery. “He is. God, he really is.”
“So,” Elias presses gently, “why him?”
Because the answer is already there.
“Because he’s gentle in ways no one sees,” I say. “With kids and his sister. With me too. He makes space for people without knowing that’s what he’s doing.”
Elias doesn’t interrupt this time, but I can feel him listening harder.
“He carries so much pain,” I continue, quieter now, “and never uses it as an excuse. He just… carries it. And still shows up. Still fights. Still loves the people who matter, even when he doesn’t think he deserves anything back.”
Elias exhales through his nose. “You’re describing a man who’s a mess.”
“I know,” I say. “But he’s an honest one.”
I take a moment.
“And when he looks at me,” I add, my voice unsteady now, “it’s not like I’m something to fix or manage. It’s like he’s surprised I exist. Like I matter just by being there.”
I swipe at my cheek, annoyed at the tears.
“He scares you,” Elias says, not unkindly.
“Yes,” I admit. “Because he’s honest in a way that leaves no armor. Because he makes me braver just by standing next to him.”
There’s a pause—heavy, loaded.
“I started falling for him,” I say slowly, “because he trusts me with the parts of himself he hates the most.”
The silence stretches.
Then Elias says quietly, “Sounds to me like you love him.”
I shake my head instantly. “No. I—”
The word catches.
I freeze.
My breath stalls, the ground vanishing beneath me as the truth lands all at once—loud, undeniable, impossible to outrun.
Oh.
Oh my God.
I stare at the floor, my heart thundering. “I do,” I whisper, stunned. “I love him.”
Elias doesn’t smile. He just nods, as though he knew this was inevitable.
“Yeah,” he says. “You really do.”
“I love him.”
After a long moment, he nods once. “Then you know what you have to do.”
My heart stutters. “I do?”
“When is he home from the road trip?” he asks.
“Tomorrow night,” I say. “Late.”
Elias leans back, certainty settling into his posture. “Then you know exactly where you need to be the moment he gets home.”
I smile.
“I do.”