Page 19 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“Don’t I?” His voice remained gentle, reminding me of how he’d talked me through panic before my first major debate. He stood, too, and suddenly, the room felt much smaller. “You thinkI don’t understand family pressure? Living up to impossible expectations?”

Something in his tone made me turn back. “Your father’s company...”

“Was failing when he died.” Hunter’s jaw tightened, shadows deepening across his face. “Everyone expected me to save it when I was old enough. Instead, I sold it as soon as I inherited it and started my firm. The great Miller disappointment.” Bitterness echoed off walls that had heard so many family confessions.

I studied him in the firelight, seeing him differently somehow. Gone was the polished CEO, replaced by someone more real, more vulnerable. Someone who understood the weight of a family legacy, of expectations handed down like heirlooms.

“I didn’t know,” I whispered, remembering how he’d disappeared after his father’s funeral, how Taylor had worried.

“Few people do.” He stepped closer, and my pulse jumped like it had during that dance at Taylor’s wedding. “The point is, I understand wanting to prove yourself. But sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit you need help.”

We stood there, caught in some undefined moment, the space between us crackling with possibility. The fire cast shifting shadows across his face as Hunter’s eyes dropped to my lips for a second, and I forgot how to breathe. Just like that night on the deck when we’d almost...

Then my laptop chimed, shattering the moment.

I stepped back, my heart hammering as I opened my laptop. Whatever had just almost happened between us would have to wait. The news alert for Pine Haven demanded attention, and as I read the headline, all thoughts of Hunter’s proximity vanished, replaced by ice in my veins.

“Mountain Paradise Lost: Pine Haven Resort’s Steady Decline.”

My hands shook as I scanned Alexis Smith’s brutal review. She’d torn apart everything—from our “charmingly outdated but ultimately inadequate” ski facilities to our “overwhelmed and undertrained” staff. Each word felt like a physical blow, attacking not just our business but our family’s legacy.

“Let me see,” Hunter said, moving to read over my shoulder. His presence was warm and steady, anchoring me as the words blurred before my eyes. Despite everything, I leaned slightly toward him, seeking comfort I wasn’t sure I had the right to want.

“This is a hit piece,” he finally said, his voice tight with anger I’d never heard from him before. “The timing’s too perfect.”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated, then gently closed my laptop, his hand lingering near mine. “Crystal Ridge has a pattern. Negative press appears just before they move in on a property.”

The implication took a moment to sink in through my shock. “You think they’re behind this?”

“I think nothing about this situation is coincidental.” He ran a hand through his hair, disrupting its usual perfect style. The gesture made him look younger somehow, more approachable. More like the boy who’d defended me at debate competitions when judges got too harsh.

My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. A text from Dad:Saw the review. Call me when you can.

“I need to respond to this. Draft a statement, something to counter—” My voice had taken on that shaky quality Mom used to get when things went wrong.

“No.” His hand caught mine as I reached for the laptop again. The contact sent sparks up my arm, warmth fighting against the icy dread in my stomach. “Not tonight.”

“Hunter—”

“You’re exhausted.” His thumb traced small circles on my palm, probably meant to be soothing, but it was having the opposite effect. Each touch sent tingles through my skin. “When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep? Had a meal that wasn’t grabbed between crises?”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. I couldn’t remember. Just like Mom in those final months, always saying she was fine.

“That’s what I thought.” His other hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so tender it sent a wave of emotions through me. His fingers lingered near my cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into his touch. “Let me help you fight this battle, Amelia. Please.”

Maybe it was exhaustion, the lateness of the hour, or how his fingers traced patterns on my skin, but something in me cracked. The walls I’d built since Mom died, since taking over Pine Haven, crumbled.

“I’m so tired,” I whispered.

“I know.” He was close now, so close I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes caught by the firelight. His hand was still warm against my cheek, steadying me as everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

“I can’t let them win. Can’t let everyone down...” My voice caught on memories of Mom saying the same thing, of promises made to Grandpa.

“Hey.” His hands framed my face now, and I couldn’t look away if I tried. The tenderness in his touch undid me more than any business strategy or pep talk could. “You have let no one down.”

Time seemed to stop. The fire crackled softly, casting us in shifting shadows that made everything feel dreamlike. Hunter’s eyes dropped to my lips again, and this time, there was no mistaking his intent. I swayed toward him slightly, my heartthundering in my chest. His cologne mingled with the scent of wood smoke, and I thought of all our almost-moments, all the times we’d nearly crossed this line.

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