Page 56 of Bleacher Report
I roll my eyes and wad up one of the napkins, lobbing it at her head. “Stop.”
She laughs but sobers quickly when she catches my expression. “You know I’m kidding, right?”
“Yeah.” I press my lips together, smoothing out another napkin. “It’s just…he fits here better than I expected. But he’s temporary.”
Abby doesn’t argue. She doesn’t have to.
We both know that’s the part that’s going to hurt.
Dinner is loud and warm, exactly like it always is at Mom’s house. It still doesn’t mask the fact that my dad isn’t here and that my brother Will is still overseas, but this Thanksgiving is turning out to be better than I anticipated it would be.
Abby is making snarky comments about the sweet potatoes being too sweet, Jesse keeps trying to sneak extra rolls when no one’s looking, and Mom is laughing at everything like she hasn’t had a reason to smile this big in years.
But when Mom finally taps her fork against her glass and says, “All right, before dessert—what’s everyone thankful for?” the whole room quiets.
Jesse starts first, grinning shyly as he says, “I’m thankful for my family. And that Dad gets to come home in a few months.”
Abby says she’s thankful for Jesse and Mom, and for strong coffee on her night shifts at the hospital.
When it’s Hunter’s turn, he clears his throat, eyes flicking over to me.
“I’m thankful,” he starts, voice deceptively casual, “for my passenger princess. Because apparently, I’ve been driving around my whole life without knowing the right temperature setting.”
There’s a beat of silence before the table bursts into laughter.
But me? I freeze.
Because I feel her eyes on me. Mom’s. Sharp, knowing.
She doesn’t say anything, but when I glance over, she’s wearing a small smile that says she heard every word and understood exactly what it meant.
Under the table, Hunter’s hand slips onto my thigh, his fingers giving it a playful squeeze like he’s in on the joke.
And even though I know it’s fake, my heart doesn’t seem to get the message.
It has me wondering about our second interview, and whether I’m willing to risk making Hunter upset for the ratings I need.
Oh God…am I falling for my fake boyfriend?
After dinner, we’re all full and sleepy, lounging around the living room while Jesse wheels himself in and out, bouncing between conversation and trying to snag extra dessert without anyone noticing.
Hunter’s been glued to Jesse’s side most of the night—not in a forced way, but like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Watching them makes something soft settle low in my chest, and I keep reminding myself this isn’t real.
Once I get my network deal and Bethany moves back to New Jersey, taking her trade deal with her, this all ends. Doesn’t it?
When we finally say our goodnights, Mom hugs me tight and whispers in my ear, “You’ve got a good one there.”
I don’t even bother correcting her. Not tonight.
Hunter crouches down next to Jesse’s chair. “Hey, buddy. Next time you want to come to a game, you let me know. I’ll have a set of tickets waiting for you at will-call.”
Jesse’s eyes light up, wide and round. “Like, forever?”
Hunter chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “Not forever,” I jump in quickly, knowing full well how Jesse latches onto things. “Hunter plays in different cities. We don’t know how long he’ll be—”
Hunter cuts me off gently, his gaze never leaving Jesse’s. “As long as I’m playing, and wherever I’m playing, you’ll have a home game ticket. Deal?”
Jesse beams like Hunter just handed him the Stanley Cup. “Deal.”
