Page 44

PEYTON

The hospital hallway is full of the sounds of machines beeping and nurses walking around. It’s been almost eight hours since we showed up at the hospital this morning.

Everything smells like disinfectant and overused hand sanitizer. The overhead lights buzz faintly, and somewhere behind the next set of double doors, someone coughs. I sit in the plastic chair outside Carly's room, a paper cup of water cradled in my hands.

Hunter steps out from her room, keeping the door open so that he can see her, his expression unreadable. His shoulders are tense, eyes rimmed red but dry. He walks over and sinks into the chair beside me, elbows on his knees.

"She's resting now," he says softly. "The fluids are helping. They’re keeping her for observation overnight."

I nod, swallowing hard. "Did they say what caused it?"

Hope blooms that Bethany was wrong in the bathroom and that it was just stress related.

He runs a hand down his face. "Combination of things. Low iron, dehydration, and overexertion. The cookie drop-offs, the old folks home event, caroling last night... She just overdid it. Her body couldn't keep up."

I let out a breath. "But she’s going to be okay?"

Hunter hesitates.

"The cancer’s back."

His voice barely makes it out—raw and splintered. The weight of those words seems to drain what’s left of the fight in him.

I blink, not sure I heard right, but this is what Bethany warned me about. “What?”

He nods once, a jerky motion. “She didn’t want me to know. Said it would distract me. But the tests…they confirmed it.”

The paper cup crumples slightly in my hands. “God.”

“Yeah, God,” he exhales. “I don't know what to do, Peyton. I can’t leave her like this. And if I don’t force her into treatment, I’m not sure she’ll go."

I reach out and pull him into me. His arms wrap around my shoulder as we comfort each other. "Then you make her go,” I mumble against his chest. “You’re her son. She listens to you."

He pulls back, his gaze searching mine. "And the team? Practice starts back the day after tomorrow. If I don’t show up..."

"Call Coach Haynes. Explain the situation. Ask for a few days.”

“He might bench me for a game since I’m not there to practice with the team, but you’re right. I should call."

I can see him considering it.

"You should stay," I say, quietly. "She needs you. I can stay too, if you want me to."

"Of course I want you here," he says. "But there’s nothing you can do. And you’ve got your meeting with the network. You should go home on the flight tonight like we planned. Do what you’ve worked so hard for.

I won’t let you give up the syndication deal.

I’ll cancel my flight until I know what’s going on. "

The idea of leaving him here alone stings.

But I know he’s right. There’s nothing I can do except be here for him.

But there’s still a sting that he’s telling me to go, as if the syndication deal means as much to me as he does, but I won’t take it personally that he’s sending me home.

He’s trying to do the best for everyone in this situation.

I nod, not wanting him to worry about my concerns or feelings at this point. He needs to focus all of his energy on Carly.

The sound of Carly stirring in bed has both of us glancing toward her room. She fell asleep after all the tests they ran this morning, wiping her out. “Hunter?” Her soft voice reaches out to us.

“Go take care of her,” I say gently. “I’ll go grab coffee.”

He presses a quick kiss to my temple and heads back into the room.

I glance across the hallway and spot Bethany deep in conversation with Bonnie, her voice low, her expression serious. The moment stretches, and for once, Bethany doesn’t look smug. She just looks...resolute.

Our eyes meet.

There’s something quiet in her gaze this time. Less challenge, more calculation. I turn away, heart pounding, and make my way to the elevators.

The ride down feels like it takes hours.

I stare at the metal doors, the hospital lights flickering faintly overhead, the scent of antiseptic thick in the air. All I can think about is the way Hunter’s face collapsed when he said the word cancer . The way he leaned into me like I was the only thing keeping him upright.

I’ve never seen him look so wrecked.

And I’ve never wanted so badly to fix something I can’t.

By the time I reach the main floor, my decision is made. I need to find a way to be here. With him. For however long he needs. Even if it means reshuffling everything else.

Because I’m not just worried about him. I’m in love with him.

Somewhere along the way—from fake interviews and made-up contracts to secret glances and unspoken promises—I fell. Hard. And I want to be the one standing beside him through this. Not watching from three thousand miles away while Bethany fills the gaps I leave behind.

I pause outside the cafeteria, pulling out my phone with trembling fingers.

Outside, the sky is a flat, winter gray.

It’s Christmas. Everything beyond these hospital walls feels like it’s paused—frozen in place.

But inside me, everything is moving too fast. I don’t want to make a choice between love and career.

Not yet. Maybe I don’t have to, but either way, Hunter is worth everything.

I scroll to Rebecca’s contact and hit call.

She answers on the first ring. “Peyton! What a pleasant surprise.”

I was expecting to leave a voicemail today, but it’s just as well that I get my answer now so that Hunter and I can make plans moving forward.

"You’re working? It’s Christmas."

"Holidays are when I get the most done, and the news doesn’t care what day it is," she replies. "I don’t have anyone at home waiting on me, and the office is quiet. No distractions from the assistants around here." I hear her adjust in her chair. “What can I do for you?”

I take a deep breath. "It’s about the network deal. Can I do the show from New Jersey? If I relocate."

A pause. "You mean...move?"

"Yes. I need to know if that’s even on the table."

Another pause. "So, the trade rumors are true."

I don’t answer.

"Peyton, the network will need you in Seattle. At least a year. Maybe two. After that, I’m sure the network would be open to you moving.”

That’s not the answer I was hoping for.

My throat tightens. "Rebecca, it’s Hunter’s mom. She’s really sick. And Hunter says she already told him that she won’t move to Seattle.”

She lets out a tsk sound, debating my dilemma.

"You're in a tough spot, Peyton, I get it. I can’t tell you what to do, but the execs want to move fast. Do you want a couple of days to think about this? See if there is another option? Because if you turn this down, I’ll be required to call the other podcaster on the list right now in order to get things moving.

I won’t be able to go back after we end this call. "

I nod to myself. I figured that if I turned this down they’d have to move to the next viable option. "Then I have to say no. I need to be here with him."

She’s quiet for a beat. "I can’t say that I understand. I chose my career over having a family and I don’t regret that, but you have to make your own call. You’re sure Hunter is worth this?"

"Yes." I don’t have to question it for a second. I know the answer immediately.

She exhales. "If you’re sure, then I respect it.

I was really looking forward to having another woman podcaster on the network.

It’s a sausage fest around here,” she jokes.

“I won’t lie and say that I’m not disappointed, but I think big things are still on the horizon for you, and I hope that Hunter knows what he has in you as a partner. "

“Thank you. For everything.”

We hang up just as I step up to the counter.

"One coffee and a green tea, please."

I pay, then drift over to the pickup counter, scrolling through new messages from Abby and my mom—Christmas morning snapshots from back home.

One shows Jesse holding up a giant chocolate Santa, another has my brother on a video call, grinning from a grainy laptop screen in his base quarters, wishing them a Merry Christmas from across the world.

A lump rises in my throat.

I’m about to respond when movement catches my eye near the elevators.

Bethany.

I immediately drop my gaze, hoping she’s just headed to the coffee line too. But instead, she veers sharply toward me—heels clicking with familiar precision—cutting me off before I can pretend to be busy.

“He’s not going to make the choice, Peyton,” she says, her voice low and cold. “You know that. He’ll try to juggle it all. And someone will get hurt. Probably Carly.”

“Bethany, don’t—he doesn’t have to stay in Seattle. I’m working it out.”

Bethany lifts her brows. “If you don’t break it off, I’ll kill the deal.”

My jaw clenches. “Then is it me who’s hurting Carly? Or you?”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me like she’s already won.

“You want what’s best for him?” she adds softly. “Give him a clean break.”

And then she walks away. Just like that. No fight. No hesitation.

The barista calls my name.

“Order for Peyton!”

I grab the drinks with shaking hands. The cardboard tray creaks slightly in my grip, and the heat from the coffee sears my palm—but it’s nothing compared to the burn in my chest.

Everything hurts.

Back upstairs, I round the corner and freeze.

Hunter and Bethany are sitting on either side of Carly’s bed, each holding one of her hands.

They look like a team.

A fractured one, maybe. But still a team.

I stand there for a moment, just breathing, trying to calm the storm building behind my ribs.

As much as I hate Bethany, she’s not wrong about one thing—Hunter is loyal.

Too loyal. And he’s going to need help getting Carly into treatment.

Help from someone relentless. And unfortunately, that might be Bethany.

Hunter notices me and gets up, crossing the hall to meet me.

I paste on a smile so fake I’m shocked it doesn’t crack.

“I called Coach Haynes,” he says, as I hand him the coffee. “He’s giving me the time I need.”

“That’s great,” I say, keeping my voice from wobbling. “I knew they’d understand.”

His brow furrows as if he can tell something up. “Yeah. They were good about it.”

He takes a sip, but he’s watching me too closely now. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Everything’s fine.”

But it’s not. Because Carly needs him more than I ever will. And Hunter won’t walk away unless I force him to.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmurs.

I glance back toward Carly’s room. Bethany is watching us now, careful and still…unsure if I’m going to do what she wants.

I take a breath I don’t want to take.

I almost don’t say it.

I want to tell him I turned down the deal. That I’m staying. That we’ll figure it out.

But then I think of Carly. Of Bethany. Of the letters in that purse. Of the New Jersey deal that Bethany will squash.

So I make myself lie.

“Hey, listen...now that everything’s out in the open, maybe you should rethink that trade deal with New Jersey.”

Hunter stops mid-sip, brow rising. “You’re serious? That would put me three thousand miles away.”

“I know.” I keep my voice steady. “But with Carly being sick...and not willing to move...”

He stares at me. “What does that mean for us?”

I look down, searching for the words. When I meet his eyes again, I hate myself for what I’m about to say.

“We both got what we started this whole thing for, didn’t we? You wanted to shake Bethany. I got the syndication deal.”

His jaw ticks. “We both got what we wanted,” he repeats, but his tone has gone cold. Guarded.

“I just mean...we came into this without expectations, and now—”

“And now you got what you wanted. The network meeting’s tomorrow.”

“Hunter, that’s not what I—”

“No,” he cuts in, stepping back. “I get it. We had an agreement. One I have to take full responsibility for since it was my stupid idea. And I’m the one who went and fell in love with you while it was all supposed to end.”

“Hunter—wait.”

“It’s fine, Peyton. I’m used to being used to further someone else’s goals. This time we used each other, right? Call it a draw.”

“That’s not what this is,” I whisper. “It’s just...you should be in New Jersey. And my life is in Seattle. It’s just...bad timing.”

I want to tell him everything. That Bethany threatened to pull the deal if I don’t break it off, but then he’ll burn his bridge with Bethany and that won’t help Carly. They need to do this together or Carly won’t budge.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Peyton.” His voice is brittle. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want me to send you your stuff from the townhouse so you have things here?”

“Already kicking me out?” he says, and I have no idea how to respond. I just know that seeing his things in my house is going to keep this cut from healing. But I didn’t mean to hurt him with the idea of moving his things out.

“I don’t care what you do with them,” he says finally.

He takes another slow sip of his coffee and then glances at me before turning back to check in on his mother. “You should head back to the house. If you want to make your flight, you’ll need time to pack. Safe travels.”

Then he walks away without another word, back into Carly’s room.

Bethany doesn’t look smug when our eyes meet. She just looks tired.

I don’t have the strength to glare. Or argue.

My heart splinters in my chest, a hundred sharp pieces pressing against my ribs. But I know—deep down—I did the right thing.

Even if it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever done.

I turn down the hallway, blinking fast to keep the tears from forming. When I glance down, the tea is dripping down the cardboard cup, my hand squeezing it too tight. I didn’t even realize it until now.

I toss it into the trash and keep walking.

I hope my father would be proud of me…because right now, that’s the only thing keeping me upright.