Page 85 of Bleacher Report
“I have my sources,” she says. “And I know she’s not being honest with you. She’s not even being honest with me—and she tells me everything.”
The chill of her words sinks in.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come home. Move back to Jersey. Be closer to her. If not for us…then at least for her. One day, you’ll see this was always meant to happen. Peyton and Seattle aren’t your home.Weare.”
She brushes her hand down my arm.
The door swings open behind me.
Peyton.
She takes one look—Bethany’s touch, my clenched jaw—and walks straight over.
I pull my arm away.
“My mother isn’t your concern anymore, Bethany. And neither am I.”
I reach for Peyton. She takes my hand without hesitation, her cold gaze locked on Bethany.
“You ready to go home?” I ask, tugging her gently to my side.
“Yeah,” she says. “I’m ready for our big, comfy bed.”
She walks past Bethany without looking back, calm and cool.
“Goodnight, Bethany,” I say. “Thanks for your concern. But I can handle it—from Seattle.”
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
The truth is…I’m not so sure.
And I’d be lying if I said the concern in Bethany’s eyes didn’t rattle me a little.
She could be faking it. Hell, manipulation is her specialty.
But she’s tugging on a thread I’ve already been ignoring.
And if there’s one thing I know about Bethany…she does care about my mom.
Probably more than she cares about anyone else on this planet—
Besides herself, of course.
Chapter Eighteen
Peyton
It’s been a week since our second interview went semi-viral, and I jumped into Hunter’s lap in front of Bethany.
Maybe I was a little jealous, or maybe I was just holding up my end of the deal. It’s hard to say.
Now, with five weeks left on our fake dating agreement, and my subs list now at eighty-six thousand, I’m so close I can taste it. TheDaily Sportspodcast is still in the lead at ninety-three thousand subs and theMobile Mayhempodcast had a great interview as well. I’m not home free—not even close.
Stepping into Serendipity's, the familiar warmth of the cozy café instantly puts me at ease. I spot Penelope, Cammy, Kendall, and Isla already gathered at their usual table, mugs in hand and laughter filling the air.
I head for the barista, put in my order, and then head for them.
