Page 16

I should be focused.

Practice is wrapped up. The team is slowly filtering off the ice, bantering, shoving each other, business as usual. Lauren was on time to pick up Olivia, doing her best to make it seem like me spending time with my own daughter was her doing me a favor. But even that doesn’t stick in my thoughts for long.

But my mind? Nowhere near this rink. Because I saw her.

Kenzie.

Standing at the top of the bleachers. Watching me. Watching Olivia. And then?

She ran.

No questions. No confrontation. Not even a damn text. Just turned and bolted like her life depended on it.

I exhale slowly, raking a hand through my damp hair, trying to settle the frustration clawing through my chest.

I knew this was coming. Kenzie doesn’t just avoid things—she flees. It’s what she does. And I let her do it last time. But not this time.

Not when she saw Olivia. Not when she’s trying to pretend like what happened between us was just sex. Not when I know she felt it too.

I drag my towel across the back of my neck, rolling out my shoulders.

I could let this go. Could let her pretend. Could wait until she decides she’s ready to face whatever the hell this is between us. But the thing is?

I’m not a patient man. Especially not when it comes to her.

I glance at my watch. Then at my phone. Then in the direction of the arena doors, where she disappeared. My gut tightens. She didn’t even stop to think—just bolted like she couldn’t get away fast enough. Like the sight of Olivia was too much. Like I was too much.

At that thought, my decision is made. She can run all she wants. But I don’t let things go. Not when they matter. I change into jeans and a long sleeve tee, and grab my jacket.

The second I step outside, I pull out my phone and tap her name.

Kenzie’s text thread glares back at me.

Nothing.

No response. Not even a read receipt.

I smirk, slipping into my car and throwing it into drive.

Fine, Flight. Keep running. See how far it gets you.

***

I don’t knock. Not this time. I simply rap my knuckles against the door once, just to let her know I’m here—then I grab the handle and turn.

It’s unlocked.

She didn’t even lock it. For a second, I don’t move. Because that decision? That tells me everything.

Kenzie is expecting me.

Even after she ran. Even after she avoided me. Even after she tried to disappear before I could explain.

She’s waiting for me. She just doesn’t want to admit it. So I step inside.

The apartment is dim, the city lights casting long shadows through the windows. A slow, instrumental hum plays, threading through the silence. And then—I see her. Standing in the kitchen. Wine glass in hand. Shoulders squared, like she’s trying to brace herself. Waiting. For me. For this.

She doesn’t startle when she sees me. She doesn’t yell at me for letting myself in. She just stares.

And that pisses me off more than anything.

Because this isn’t shock. This isn’t annoyance. This is acceptance. She knew I was coming. She wanted me here. It’s as if she was just waiting to see if I’d actually do it.

I step forward. Deliberate. Unrushed.

She doesn’t move. Just exhales slowly and sets her glass down, like she’s bracing herself.

Good.

She should.

“You ran.” My voice is low. Controlled.

Her jaw tightens. “I left.”

I let out a rough chuckle. “No, Flight. You ran.”

She looks away. “I don’t want to do this.”

I take another step forward, closing more of the distance between us.

“Yeah?” I murmur. “Then why’s your door unlocked?”

She exhales sharply.

And for a second—just a second—I see the truth flash across her face.

She doesn’t want me to leave. She never did. But she’s still too damn stubborn to say it.

So I keep going.

“Why’d you run?” I press. “Because you don’t know how to deal with the fact that you actually give a damn?”

She flinches.

Just a little. Just enough that I know I hit a nerve.

Then she squares her shoulders.

“Get out, Grant.”

I don’t move. Not because I’m trying to push her—but because she doesn’t mean it.

I see it in the way her grip digs into the countertop. In the way her chest rises just a little too fast. In the way she isn’t looking at the door.

I could leave.

I could walk out right now. Give her the space she’s so damn desperate to convince herself she needs.

But if I do that—I lose her. And that? Not an option.

So, instead, I take my time. A step. Then another. Measured. Deliberate. Watching the way her breath catches. She knows what’s coming. She just doesn’t know how to stop it.

And when I finally reach her, my voice is low. Certain. “I’m not going anywhere, Flight.”

Her throat moves in a slow swallow. And I watch her break right in front of me. Kenzie doesn’t say a word. But she doesn’t need to.

She’s clinging to the counter like it’s a lifeline. Her breathing is uneven. And her entire body is tensed like she’s about to break.

She’s trying to hold onto something. Some imaginary boundary between us.

Like if she keeps telling herself to stay on one side of it, she won’t have to deal with what’s happening on the other.

But the reality is that boundary doesn’t exist anymore.

Not after what we did. Not after she looked at Olivia—and bolted. I take another step forward. Deliberate. Slow.

She doesn’t move.

Not away.

Not closer.

She just waits.

For me to break the silence. So I do.

“You’re scared.”

Her chin lifts slightly, her nails digging into the countertop. “Bullshit.”

I let out a low, rough chuckle. “No, Flight. That’s exactly what this is.”

She draws a breath like she’s got a comeback locked and loaded.

But I don’t let her.

I keep going.

“You saw her,” I murmur. “You saw Olivia, and it hit you.”

Her jaw tightens.

“You realized this wasn’t just sex. That it never was. That this isn’t just some casual, no-strings, no-names thing.”

Her eyes flash. “Grant—”

I step closer. “And that scared the absolute hell out of you.”

She snaps.

“You think you have me figured out?” she hisses. “You think you know exactly what’s going on in my head, just because I—”

She stops. Cuts herself off.

Because she knows. She knows she was about to admit it. I see it in her eyes. And I feel the second her walls crack even more.

But Kenzie?

She doesn’t do vulnerable. So instead of admitting the truth—she lashes out.

“This was never supposed to be serious.” Her voice is sharp, borderline desperate.

I exhale slowly. Because we’re here. Right where I knew we’d end up. I tilt my head, watching her.

“So what, Flight? That’s your excuse for running? Because you don’t want to deal with the fact that maybe you actually feel something real for once?”

Her hands jerk slightly.

“Shut up.”

“No.”

Her nostrils flare. “Grant—”

I cut her off. Low. Steady.

“You want to pretend this was just sex?” I murmur. “Fine. Let’s test that theory.”

Her breath catches.

I take another step. Close enough that she has to tilt that chin up to keep looking at me, and I can see the exact second her pupils dilate.

“If this was just sex, Flight, you wouldn’t be standing here trying to convince yourself of it.”

Her breathing stutters.

I keep going.

“If this was just sex, you wouldn’t have run.”

I watch her throat move in a slow swallow.

“If this was just sex, I wouldn’t be standing in your damn apartment right now, trying to convince you of something we both already know.”

Her chest rises sharply.

“And if this was just sex,” I murmur, lowering my voice, “you wouldn’t be looking at me like you already know exactly how this is going to end.”

She’s not breathing now.

Neither am I.

Because I know it too. I know the exact second I touch her—this fight is over.

Her walls are crumbling. I just have to push her the rest of the way. Kenzie is standing there, chest rising too fast, eyes locked onto mine like she’s caught between two choices.

Fight or give in.

I know which one she wants to pick. And I know which one she thinks she should pick.

She’s trying so damn hard to cling to her rules. Her escape routes. But this time? There’s nowhere left to run.

I take one last step. I watch her bite her lower lip.

“Still think this is just sex?” I murmur.

She shifts, barely moving.

I exhale slowly, my jaw tightening.

“Say it, Flight.”

She flinches. Because she can’t. She knows it. I know it. And the second she admits it?

We’re done pretending.

I reach up, brushing my fingers against her jaw. A test. She doesn’t pull away. So I go further.

I drag my hand down, resting my fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head just slightly.

She lets me.

Her breath slips out and catches.

And that’s when I know—

She’s already lost.

So I lean in.

Not rough. Not forceful. Just deliberate. Controlled.

My mouth hovers over hers; I can feel her warmth, but we’re still not touching.

Not yet.

Her body tenses. Her breathing goes shallow. Every muscle is locked up tight, like she’s fighting a war inside her own head. I stay exactly where I am. Watching. Waiting. Giving her the space to make the choice. A frustrated, nearly pained sound escapes her, like she’s still trying to fight it.

Then, she breaks. And drags my mouth to hers. The second she does? I lose every ounce of restraint I was holding onto. Because this isn’t soft.

This isn’t careful. This is messy, desperate, fucking inevitable.

Her hands yank at my shirt, desperate, urgent. Mine slam onto her hips, pulling her flush against me.

A sharp inhale. A low groan. A shiver rolls through her like she just surrendered to something inevitable.

I spin her, backing her against the counter, pressing into her, deepening the kiss until she’s melting into me.

Until she’s not thinking anymore.

Until she’s not running.

And when I finally pull back, just enough to catch my breath, I lean my forehead against hers and murmur—

“Told you.”

She lets out a shaky exhale.

And doesn’t deny it.