Page 84 of Bleacher Report
Bethany’s tactics aren’t surprising.
Pathetic, sure. But not surprising.
This is what usually works for her, and I get why she's been successful up until now. The problem is, I’ve already been burned bad enough to know that it’s all about her ego, and has nothing to do with her wanting me.
I shift lazily in my seat, stretching my arm over the back of the chair like I’ve got all the time in the world.
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, letting a slow grin pull at my mouth. “My girlfriend gets worked up after watching me win onthe ice. She already has plans to put me to good use tonight. I’ll get morereliefthan I know what to do with.”
It’s a lie. Peyton isn’t likely going to let me anywhere close enough to make that happen, but Bethany doesn’t need to know that.
Bethany’s face turns dark, her perfectly placed expression cracking through her not getting her way. “Fine. Then can we talk? Privately,” she huffs out.
“I have nothing to say to you. You’re not going to trade me that easily.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s a family matter.”
Shit.
A family matter can only mean one thing. My stomach dips at the thought that this has to do with my mom.
I sigh and rise from my stool. “After you.”
We step outside into the cold night. The street’s quiet, only the distant sound of cars passing on the main drag. The neon glow of Oakley’s sign flickers above us.
A few steps out, she spins to face me, heels clicking sharply.
“Are you in love with her?” she demands.
“That’s none of your business. And it’s not a family matter, either, because we’re not family,” I snap. “Besides, what the hell do you care about love?”
“I’m not the monster you think I am,” she says, her voice suddenly too soft. “You were never around after you got drafted. I was lonely. You had women chasing you everywhere you went, throwing themselves at you. What was I supposed to do—wait around until you cheated?”
“Good to know you had such high expectations of me,” I mutter. “So your plan was to cheat first? Secure a billionaire while I was trying to build us a life? Trying to give you everything you never had growing up? Like financial security and a man who didn’t hurt you like your mom’s ex-boyfriends?”
She shrugs like that’s fair logic. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Forget it,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s not why I came.”
“Then spit it out, Bethany. You’re keeping me from my team…and my girlfriend.”
A patron from the tattoo parlor walks by us and then heads into Oakley’s. It’s a freezing December night, though at least there’s a break in the rain.
“Have you talked to your mother recently?”
“Yeah. A couple days ago.”
“And what did she say? About the doctors? The tests?”
“She said the doctors aren’t concerned. That we’re waiting on results.”
Bethany’s eyes flare. “It’s been months, Hunter. You seriously believe they’re still waiting?”
I hesitate.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
