Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
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—”
“Eliza,” I interrupt gently but firmly. “Hey. Stop.”
She doesn’t. “I’m failing him, Grizz,” she whispers, her voice breaking completely now. “I’m failing.”
That’s the part that guts me and I wish I were the one there dealing with this shit show rather than her.
“It’s time to move him to a facility,” she says, the confession spilling out. “After today, I can’t wait anymore,” she continues, exhaling shakily. The sound is raw and exhausted. “I have to move him. I have to.”
I rush to assure her, although I know it probably sounds hollow. “Eliza… you’ve done your very best. I know that.”
“He trusted me to take care of him,” she says. “And I can’t even protect him from himself.” Her voice drops to a whisper, the kind that carries shame with it. “Putting him in a facility feels like giving up. Please tell me I’m not a terrible daughter.”