I see Gunnar smirk, he knows I’m about to tear into Grim. Grim’s brow furrows, and he tilts his head to the side. “That’s a problem?” I poke my finger into his chest. “Yes, that’s a problem,” I snarl. A small grin curls Grim’s lips. “You’re worried about me.” I can’t tell if he thinks it’s cute that I worry, or if it amuses him.
