Page 49 of Bleacher Report
That hits like a punch to the ribs.
She knows exactly where to aim.
“You mean, take the trade you’re trying to convince Everett to sign off on,” I snap. “Go back to New Jersey. Back to your team.”
She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Would that really be so bad? Your mom needs you right now…more than ever. I can tell she’s not feeling well.”
My stomach knots at the mention of Mom.
“What do you mean, ‘she’s not feeling well?’” I ask, the sound of it causing hair to stick up at the back of my neck.
What does Bethany know?
“She just doesn’t sound as chipper on the phone, and her best friend Bonny has shared some concerns with me.”
Bonny—my mother’s best friend since beauty school and her salon manager.
“What did she say?” I ask, stepping closer to Bethany’s car.
“Just that Carly has seemed more tired recently and wanted to know if I was coming back home soon to check in on her.”
I hate that Bonny thought to call Bethany instead of me.
Bethany didn’t grow up in the best home. She was taken away from her mom when she was young, and then bounced around between uncles, aunts, and grandparents most of her life…anywhere the courts could think to put her, but then she’d run away. They’d have to place her somewhere else because that family member wouldn’t take her back.
So when we started dating, she connected with my mom almost instantly, worming her way into my mother’s life. Bethany helped take care of her the last time she was sick, back when I was too far away to do anything about it. Mom still talks about her like Beth is her long-lost daughter. She was disappointed with Bethany when she found out what she did to me. She told me that even though Bethany hurt us both with her actions, that my mother wouldn’t stop loving her—and that Bethany has deep wounds that need mending.
And that’s the problem. My mom loves her, and they’re still connected at the hip it seems.
Bethany leans a little closer to the open window, voice dropping. “But if you want to play house with your little podcast girl, go ahead. Just don’t forget—you’ll get bored and sabotage things with her soon enough. That’s been your thing ever since you lost me. I’m the one that got away, and we both know it.”
I cross my arms over my chest, keeping my distance. “We don’t have anything, Beth.”
Her smile disappears. “You don’t mean that.”
I do. I mean every damn word. But she’s not the type to care.
She shifts her car into gear and pulls away without another word, leaving nothing behind but the faint smell of vanilla and the sinking weight in my chest.
I stare at the spot where her car used to be, jaw clenched, every worst-case scenario running through my head. What if she knows something about Mom’s health that I don’t? What if she’s using it, dangling it in front of me like a carrot on a stick?
And the worst part?
For a second, I almost consider it.
Almost.
But I already burned my career once for Bethany Richards. And unless my mother needs me to move home, I won’t do it again.
The drive across town feels longer than usual. Probably because my brain won’t shut off.
Bethany’s voice keeps looping in the back of my head like a bad soundtrack. The smug smile. The subtle digs. The way she weaponized my mom without blinking.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and force myself to breathe. She’s bluffing. She has to be.
Still…I can’t shake it.
I turn down Peyton’s street, the quiet residential block almost too normal after Bethany’s ambush today. Like none of it should exist in the same universe as a tidy row of townhomes, and a podcast host who thinks I’m a menace.
