7. Hunter

"Everyone's going to think we planned this," Dr. F teases, nodding to our matching tops.

When we realized we were wearing matching number 2 jerseys, he offered to change, but I insisted that it's fine. Greedy will be glad his dad could make it to this game. He'll be even more thrilled to see him in his jersey. I want him to have this memory, to be aware of his dad's sweet gesture.

Dr. F is sporting dark jeans and a long-sleeve tech shirt under the aquamarine jersey. I'm not sure I've ever seen him look so casual, but he wears it well.

I assume he's here because he's under the assumption that this is his son's last collegiate football game. It's not my place to tell him that may not be the case.

"All right, kiddo. What'll it be? Popcorn and MM's, obviously." He gives me a pointed look.

That's been my favorite combo for as long as I can remember—and he's come home to find me making a meal of that combo on more than one occasion. We haven't seen a whole lot of each other in the five months I've been living in his home, but when we do, he does his best to engage with me. He's not home often—being chief physician at Lake Chapel General takes up most of his time—but I appreciate the effort he's put into getting to know me.

"Anything else? What do you want to drink?"

"I'll take a water. Want me to get it? I don't want you to miss kickoff."

With a wave of his hand, he insists he's got it. Then he disappears beneath the stands.

South Chapel has had a great season, and the majority of the guys on the offensive line are only juniors. They could go even farther next year.

As I wait for the game to start, I fight the pull I feel toward the end zone.

I spotted number 2 on that end earlier. I know without looking he's still down there.

To distract myself from thoughts of him, I pull out my phone and text Joey. She's getting ready for the big fundraising gala where Kendrick will receive the Lake Chapel University player of the year award. She's been sending me pics and updates all afternoon.

I send Levi a quick text, too, checking in. He'll be in the hospital for another few days, but he claims he's doing well. After a few messages back and forth, I promise to visit him tomorrow.

Occasionally, I let my eyes drift to the field. It's impossible not to, no matter how hard I try.

At least there's safety in the bleachers. I'm camouflaged by a sea of aquamarine and white. I can sit back and enjoy the anticipation of the game. I can also discreetly watch Greedy in his element, with no chance he'll catch me staring.

I love football. I grew up on the sport. I started cheering in second grade and continued all through high school.

Our school, like a lot of the districts in the area, doesn't offer competitive cheer. Even so, it's a rigorous, demanding sport. Cheer taught me tenacity and focus. It also helped me develop an exterior armor I can call upon quickly.

I can tune out anyone, smile through anything. I have the ability to slip into a role and drown out all the background noise when I need to.

That particular skill set has come in handy while co-existing in close proximity to Greedy for the last several months.

Dr. F makes it back just in time for the coin toss. South Chapel U wins, then defers.

They're playing an undefeated team from Tennessee. It's highly unlikely the South Chapel Sharks will come out on top. Still, we watch intently every time Greedy and the offense take the field. But we both sort of zone out when it's the defense's turn.

After a particularly long drive from the other team—it's almost halftime, and the South Chapel defense has been on the field for nearly seven football minutes—Dr. F stashes his phone away and turns to me.

"I appreciate you being here, Hunter. I know it means a lot to Garrett, too."

I roll my lips and bite my tongue. Only when I know I can affect a cheerful tone do I speak. "Happy to support him today." Sitting up straighter, I keep my gaze fixed on the South Chapel bench.

As if he can sense me staring, Greedy turns around. We're close enough to the field that I catch the motion, but we're far enough away that I can't make out his expression.

It doesn't matter. I can feel him from here. He doesn't even have to look at me for my body to light up in response to his. It's like muscle memory, but instead of a skill or exercise, my body is attuned to react to him.

Flovely.

Fucking. Lovely.

"Have you made it to many games this season?" Dr. F asks.

I blow out an exasperated breath. He's just making small talk, but each question feels like an interrogation. For months, every question he asks me feels like a little pinprick poking and prodding around the truth of my connection to my stepbrother.

If he only knew…

Dr. F and my mom believe Greedy and I met at their engagement dinner three summers ago, and that's the way I want to keep it.

"This is my third game this season," I tell him. "My best friend's, uh—" I catch myself and decide to rephrase. I'm not interested in getting into polyamory with Dr. F. "I attended a lot of Lake Chapel games this fall with my best friend Joey, so I've only seen SCU play a few times."

Dr. F glances at the scoreboard, then looks back at me. "Joey's well, I take it?"

I smile and nod, like I've trained myself to do.

Dr. F continues. "I was surprised you ended up at LCU, kiddo. I know that was your original plan, but I always assumed—"

"They have a great prelaw program," I say, cutting him off. "And their admissions director was gracious enough to work with me." That, or they know who my stepfather is, and they're hoping he'll eventually open his wallet for LCU the way he has for SCU over the years.

I honestly didn't mean to defer for three years. It just sort of… happened.

I was so damn nervous to contact the admissions office at Lake Chapel University this year. But apparently they're seeing more and more transfer and nontraditional students, so it wasn't a big deal after all.

Dr. F grants me the grace of a subject change.

Although now we're on to an even touchier subject.

He shakes a few sunflower seeds into his palm, inspects them, then pops them into his mouth. "Have you spoken to your mother lately?"

My stomach knots instantly.

Spoken to?

No.

But we exchange the occasional texts, and I keep up with her on Instagram.

I haven't actually seen my mother in the flesh since I left Lake Chapel three summers ago.

Despite also being in Europe for most of the time I was abroad, she never made the effort to meet up. If anything, she avoided me. When I did talk to her and suggest seeing one another, her plans would conveniently allow her to just miss me. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was likely intentional.

"I haven't talked to her for a few months." Though she has been in contact more frequently. There have been texts. Voicemails. Now that she knows I'm here, she sounds eager to come back to North Carolina. I'll believe it when I see it.

"She came home for the holidays last year," Dr. F offers. "I'm hoping she'll be back this year, too."

Lips pressed together in a firm line, I side-eye him.

I can't imagine this is the happily ever after he hoped for when he married Magnolia St. Clair. I swear she's traveled more than she's been home since she married Dr. F.

More than that, I don't want her here. I loathe the idea of sharing space with her.

My mother is a narcissist. For most of my life, I didn't have the vocabulary or the understanding to comprehend that. But after years of counseling and some hefty healing on my part, I now see her for what she is.

She's poison.

She should have never been a mother.

My life is better without her. I have more peace without her. I'm a better person when she's not around.

"I'm hoping we can all spend Christmas in the mountains," Dr. F continues. "Did you like the cabin? That's where you went when that storm rolled through last month, right?"

"Yes, that's where we evacuated to for Tropical Storm Theo."

I don't mention that I had been to the cabin many times before that trip.

"Has my mom ever even been there?"

He lets out a slow breath. "Not yet."

The Fergusons' cabin is like a mini resort. Built into the side of Beech Mountain, with every luxury amenity available, it's a haven for relaxation. A shudder runs through me at the thought of my mom tainting the place.

"Just give her a chance, kiddo."

I stiffen at the request, but I keep my mouth shut.

"When she gets home, I'd like for us to have a fresh start. All of us."

He thinks he's helping. I know he thinks he's helping…

"And don't think I'm not going to give Garrett the same lecture."

That pulls a quiet scoff from me. Greedy hates my mother. Absolutely despises her.

But again, his dad knows nothing about why his son carries an epic grudge against my mom.

Rather than make promises I don't intend to keep, I smile.

I smile, and I pretend like it's fine.

Everything is fine.

Everything is fine.

Everything is fine.

My phone chimes with a notification. Regardless of how prepared I am for the alert, pain lances through me as I dismiss the reminder.

For now, everything is fine.

Later, none of it will matter anyway.