Page 27 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

I pulled back enough to see his face, studying him. The vulnerability in his expression stirred something deep within me, a mix of compassion and unease I couldn’t ignore. This wasn’t the polished CEO or the strategic businessman. This was just Hunter, walls down, heart exposed.

“Show me,” I breathed. “Show me the proof. Everything you have on Crystal Ridge, on Wheeler, all of it. No more protection, no more secrets.”

He nodded, then kissed me again, quick and fierce. “Everything. I promise.”

The sharp ring of my phone made us jump. Michael’s name flashed on the screen.

“Michael?” I answered, still breathless. “What’s wrong?”

Hunter’s arms tightened around me as I listened, my body going cold with fear.

“I’ll be right there,” I said, ending the call with shaking hands.

“Amelia? What is it?”

“Dad...” My voice cracked. “He’s in the hospital. Some kind of heart attack...”

Hunter was already moving, grabbing his keys. “I’ll drive.”

“Hunter, the resort—“

“Sophie can handle it.” He took my hand, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

As we hurried to his car, my phone buzzed again. Another anonymous text:Shame about Arthur’s heart. Stress can be so dangerous at his age. Wonder what caused it? Maybe news about his daughter getting cozy with the enemy?

Attached was a photo of our kiss, taken moments ago through my office window.

They were watching. They’d always been watching.

And now they were coming for my family.

***

The hospital corridor seemed endless. Hunter’s hand stayed at the small of my back, steadying me as we rushed toward the cardiac unit. My mind kept jumping between the kiss we’d shared and the threatening text, both making my heart race for entirely different reasons.

“Amelia!”

Michael’s voice echoed down the hallway. My brother stood outside Dad’s hospital room, looking disheveled and angry. Hiseyes narrowed when he saw Hunter, that same protective glare he’d given my prom date years ago.

“What’s he doing here?”

“Not now, Michael.” I tried to move past him, but he caught my arm.

“Actually, now is perfect.” He glared at Hunter. “Did you know your friend Jack Morrison visited Dad yesterday?”

Hunter’s hand tightened on my waist. “What?”

“Yeah.” Michael’s voice dripped with accusation. “Funny timing, isn’t it? Morrison shows up with a ‘generous offer’ for Pine Haven. Dad refuses, and suddenly, he’s in cardiac care.”

“You think I had something to do with this?” Hunter’s voice was dangerously quiet. The same tone he’d used defending me at debate finals.

“I think it’s awfully convenient—“

“Stop it, both of you!” My voice cracked like a whip. “Our father is in there, and you’re out here measuring testosterone levels?”

Both men had the grace to look ashamed. Michael stepped back, letting me enter Dad’s room. The sight of him, pale against the white hospital sheets, monitors beeping steadily around him, made my knees weak. Hunter’s arm came around my waist, supporting me like he’d done since that first day in my office.

“The doctors say it was a mild attack,” Michael said. “He’s stable.”

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