Page 48 of Just Can't Fall for the Enemy

I flinched at the pain in her voice. The woman I’d spent the last sixteen hours shaping my future around stared at me in fury. Then she plunged into the hallway and slammed the door behind her. If there had been a bolt on the other side, she would have used it. Maybe even nailed it shut and set it on fire.

With a blowtorch.

And I would have deserved it.

I sat there, numb, listening to her footsteps pounding down the hall. Away from me, the man who, despite his best efforts, hurt her yet again. Maybe even worse than that Alan guy.

I glanced at the computer screen again, feeling a strange sense of disassociation. My subscriber and view count were shooting through the roof, yet I didn’t care about the show right now.I didn’t care about any of that.

All that mattered was that the girl on the other side of the door had just stormed away with my heart, and I wasn’t sure anything else would matter ever again.

I should have left right then.

My episode was finished and a huge success. The hotel in Columbus expected me in two days, and it was a thirty-hour drive. I didn’t even have much to pack since I lived out of a suitcase. But instead, I watched the episode over and over, falling deeper in love with the girl I’d accidentally betrayed, hoping a brilliant idea would come to me.

A thousand roses and a million trees couldn’t repair what I’d done. Even her grandma probably wouldn’t open the door if I showed up at her house. Yesterday’s picnic had been so innocent, so carefree. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so happy. Not a temporary happiness, either. A full-hearted, deep, 100-percent-in, joyous and seizing-every-moment-as-it-came happiness. My YouTube career was nothing compared to that feeling. It was like uncovering a dream I didn’t know I had, achieving it, and then losing it forever.

I couldn’t fix this.

After a restless day of texting and calling Sophie with no answer followed by a long, sleepless night, I called Jill. When I explained the situation, she gave an excuse about the competition posting their episode and not being able to get a hold of me, so she’d made an executive decision. It all sounded innocent, but I read the truth behind her words. I had offered Jill half, and those millions were worth the risk of launching the episode without authorization.

She didn’t have to say it. TheTanner Carmichaelshow mattered above all else—even Tanner Carmichael.

It felt like holding up a mirror. Jill reminded me of myself, or at least a version of me that I’d never meant to become. A version that saw people as tools to be used and opportunities to be seized. If this was how betrayal felt—being sold out by someone you trusted—I never wanted Sophie to experience it again.

“I promised you half,” I told Jill. “And I’ll stick to that commitment. But after we hear back from Guy, assuming we ever do, I’m letting you go. I can’t work with someone I can’t trust.”

“Some thanks,” she muttered, and hung up.

I packed everything I owned and checked out of the hotel before dumping my suitcase into the backseat of my car. Then I drove to the coffee shop where I’d picked up our drinks the morning of the waterfall excursion. The drive-thru window was still closed for some odd reason, so I groaned and parked.

The moment I stepped inside, I knew this would have to be a quick trip. Half the shop’s tables were full, and every pair of eyes turned in my direction. Some looked away immediately; others narrowed into glares.

I sent them a wave and got in line, ducking my head. I’d hurt one of Huckleberry Creek’s best, and we all knew it. Of all the days for a store to close its drive-thru.

The cashier’s smile froze when it was my turn. She was young, maybe eighteen. Her eyebrows drew downward in a fierce way, and I knew she recognized me. “You’re still here.”

“Not for long. I’m on my way out.”I gave her my order, and she entered it.

“A lot of people will be happy to see the backside of you,” the cashier said, taking my payment card. Then she paused. “That came out wrong. I mean, we’ll be happy to see you go.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said, accepting the cup a worker behind her handed me. At least the service was fast when a coffee joint wanted you gone. “Take good care of Sophie, okay? She deserves the best.”

“At least we agree on that,” a voice called from across the room.

I turned to find Sophie’s grandma sitting at a table in the corner beneath a wide window with a clear view of Main Street.

“You really mean to slink out of town like a whipped dog, Tanner Carmichael?” she asked with raised brow.

I approached and nodded to the table. “May I?”

“Only if you want a lecture.”

I chuckled and took a seat. “I’ve been lecturing myself for twenty-four hours now, but I can always use another.”

“Not about what you did, although that was pretty thoughtless. The worst part about it is that you’d walk away and leave her alone in her suffering.”

I gripped my coffee cup so tightly it dented and nearly spilled all over.Get a grip.“Even if I’m the cause of her suffering?”

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