Page 20 of Grizz

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She exhales, frustrated but trying not to show it.“You’re more than just a player, Grizz.You’re a brand for the city and the league.Langley’s invested too much money in you to let you implode on live TV.”

“I don’t care about Langley’s money.”

“Then care about your career.”

I turn toward her, astonished she’d need to say such a thing.“You think I don’t?”

She angles her body to face me.“I think you care about winning and only winning.And when that’s all you care about, everything else becomes collateral damage.”

I ignore the twinge of conscience beneath my ribs.“Funny, that’s what keeps the lights on.”

“That’s what burns them out.”She meets my eyes, steady, unblinking.There’s a bite in her tone that doesn’t sound like a PR rep.It sounds personal.Before I can say anything, she adds softly, “In my exhaustive research on you, I saw you donate a lot of money to the Alzheimer’s Foundation.”

I freeze.

She’s watching me carefully, cataloging every twitch in my expression.“That’s not in any of your press material,” she says.“It’s not even in the Vipers community reports.I only found out because I saw the ledger for a matching grant last year.”

I take a long pull of beer.“So now you’re auditing me?”

“I’m curious why you keep it quiet.”

“Because it’s nobody’s business.”

“You’re right,” she says.“But it’s still a good thing.And most people who do good things don’t go out of their way to hide them.”

I look down at the condensation on my glass, tracing a line with my thumb.“Some things don’t need an audience.”

“Some things deserve one.”

My walls, which are already pretty high, go into hard lockdown.“Not this.”

Her voice softens.“Is it family?”

That rattles me.I don’t answer, but in my head, I repeat,Please don’t push.Please don’t push.

And thankfully, she doesn’t.I don’t think it’s because she knows how to pick her battles or that she’s not interested.It comes across as respect for my boundaries, and in a world where I get pushed constantly, it’s a balm to receive that.

Instead, she watches me, her eyes searching.Finally, she nods.“Okay.Noted.”

We go quiet again.Only this time it’s a different silence.It feels easier, as if she just earned some trust by giving me space.

A second round of drinks appears unrequested, but neither of us sends it back.

Daisy laughs, small, unexpected, almost self-conscious.“You know, I promised myself I’d keep things professional.”

“You’re doing great,” I mutter, but damn if I’m not curious as to what she means by that.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Please tell me what you mean by that.

She looks at me sidelong.“Okay, I’ll avoid the personal for now, but you want to know what my impression of you is so far?”