Page 113 of Bleacher Report
Relief washes over Hunter’s face, and he pulls me into a fierce hug, his lips finding mine in a kiss that leaves me breathless.
I melt into his embrace. This is uncharted territory for both of us, but the thought of spending the holidays with Hunter, ofbeing welcomed into his family, fills me with a warmth I haven't felt in a long time.
I have no idea what this means for us, or if it means anything, but I can’t turn down this opportunity to see where Hunter comes from—what’s shaped him into the person I’m falling for, no matter how much I’ve tried to resist it.
New Jersey, here I come.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hunter
As Peyton and I pull up to my mom’s house, a familiar knot tightens low in my stomach.
It’s a small Cape Cod tucked into an older neighborhood in northern Jersey, the kind of street lined with mature maple trees and cracked sidewalks that frost over by late November.
There’s a light dusting of fresh snow on the lawn, and Christmas lights are strung along the roof line. Christmas has always been my mother’s favorite holiday.
The porch light is already on, casting a warm glow over the narrow stoop, a cheerful green Mr. Grinch-themed wreath hanging on the door.
Inside, I can already imagine the blast of cinnamon-sugar from the oven, the hum of the old baseboard heaters that always ticked at night. Why do I miss that sound?
It's been a year since I've been back, trying to make my next step out of the farm team as my contract was winding down, and it paid off with a large Hawkeyes contract that Everett Kauffman himself pushed for with the old owner Phil Carlton while they were still in negotiations.
The effort worked out for my career, but it’s been too long.
Maybe if I’d been around more... Maybe if I was still playing for New Jersey...
My gut twists harder.
Maybe my mother wouldn’t be keeping so much from me.
I flex my hands on the steering wheel before forcing myself to let go, reaching for Peyton’s hand instead.
If Bethany’s right—and my mom’s sicker than she’s letting on—what the hell am I supposed to do?
Take the trade?
Come back here and forget everything that’s happening between Peyton and me?
Would she even want to move across the country for me?
The thought barely flickers through my head before I shove it back down.
Too soon.
Too much.
One step at a time.
Peyton squeezes my hand gently, pulling me out of the spiral.
"You okay?" she asks, her voice low and warm.
I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just... It's been a while, you know? And I’m worried about her."
Peyton holds my gaze a second longer than necessary, then nods, squeezing once more before letting go.
"I’m right here," she says simply.
