Page 132 of Bleacher Report
A fractured one, maybe. But still a team.
I stand there for a moment, just breathing, trying to calm the storm building behind my ribs. As much as I hate Bethany, she’s not wrong about one thing—Hunter is loyal. Too loyal. And he’s going to need help getting Carly into treatment. Help from someone relentless. And unfortunately, that might be Bethany.
Hunter notices me and gets up, crossing the hall to meet me.
I paste on a smile so fake I’m shocked it doesn’t crack.
“I called Coach Haynes,” he says, as I hand him the coffee. “He’s giving me the time I need.”
“That’s great,” I say, keeping my voice from wobbling. “I knew they’d understand.”
His brow furrows as if he can tell something up. “Yeah. They were good about it.”
He takes a sip, but he’s watching me too closely now. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Everything’s fine.”
But it’s not. Because Carly needs him more than I ever will. And Hunter won’t walk away unless I force him to.
“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmurs.
I glance back toward Carly’s room. Bethany is watching us now, careful and still…unsure if I’m going to do what she wants.
I take a breath I don’t want to take.
I almost don’t say it.
I want to tell him I turned down the deal. That I’m staying. That we’ll figure it out.
But then I think of Carly. Of Bethany. Of the letters in that purse. Of the New Jersey deal that Bethany will squash.
So I make myself lie.
“Hey, listen...now that everything’s out in the open, maybe you should rethink that trade deal with New Jersey.”
Hunter stops mid-sip, brow rising. “You’re serious? That would put me three thousand miles away.”
“I know.” I keep my voice steady. “But with Carly being sick...and not willing to move...”
He stares at me. “What does that mean for us?”
I look down, searching for the words. When I meet his eyes again, I hate myself for what I’m about to say.
“We both got what we started this whole thing for, didn’t we? You wanted to shake Bethany. I got the syndication deal.”
His jaw ticks. “We both got what we wanted,” he repeats, but his tone has gone cold. Guarded.
“I just mean...we came into this without expectations, and now—”
“And now you got what you wanted. The network meeting’s tomorrow.”
“Hunter, that’s not what I—”
“No,” he cuts in, stepping back. “I get it. We had an agreement. One I have to take full responsibility for since it was my stupid idea. And I’m the one who went and fell in love with you while it was all supposed to end.”
“Hunter—wait.”
“It’s fine, Peyton. I’m used to being used to further someone else’s goals. This time we used each other, right? Call it a draw.”
