Page 28 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

I moved to Dad’s bedside, taking his hand. It felt smaller somehow, more fragile than the hands that had taught me to ski. “What happened with Morrison?”

Michael sighed. “He came to the house with an offer. Since you were getting ‘personally involved’ with the situation, he thought Dad might be more reasonable.”

My stomach churned. “He threatened Dad?”

“Not directly. But he mentioned how stressful it must be, watching your daughter get manipulated by—his words—someone with Hunter Miller’s reputation.”

I felt Hunter stiffen behind me. All the tenderness from our kiss was replaced by something harder, more dangerous.

Michael’s eyes fixed on Hunter.

“Did Morrison show him the photos?”

“What photos?” Michael’s head snapped up, that old protective instinct flaring.

Before either of us could respond, Dad stirred. His eyes fluttered open, focusing on me with effort. The same blue eyes that had watched me grow up at Pine Haven.

“Princess,” he whispered, using my childhood nickname. “You shouldn’t be here. The resort—“

“Isn’t important right now.” I squeezed his hand. “What were you thinking, meeting Morrison alone?”

“Had to protect you.” His eyes drifted to Hunter. “Both of you.”

“Mr. Horton,” Hunter stepped forward. “Whatever Morrison said about me—“

“I know, son.” Dad’s voice was weak but clear. “Known you since you were chasing Taylor around the playground. Never bought their story.”

Relief flooded through me. At least Dad believed in Hunter.

“But they’re dangerous,” Dad continued. “The things Morrison knew... about Janet McKinley, about Hunter’s father...”

“Save your strength,” I interrupted, seeing how the conversation was tiring him.

“No, you need to know.” Dad’s grip tightened on my hand. “The accident that killed Richard Miller? Wasn’t an accident. Morrison bragged... said history repeats...”

Hunter made a choked sound behind me. I reached back blindly, finding his hand. His fingers interlaced with mine, holding on like an anchor.

“That’s why you called Hunter,” I realized. “You knew they were behind his father’s death.”

Dad nodded weakly. “Needed someone... who understood the stakes. Someone who’d protect you.”

“I will.” Hunter’s voice was rough with emotion. “I swear.”

“I know.” Dad’s eyes were getting heavy. “But protect yourself, too. They’re watching... always watching.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. Another text, another photo—this one of us in the hospital corridor, taken minutes ago.

Such a shame about Daddy, dearest. Better sell now, before something worse happens. Ask Hunter about his father’s brake lines.

I felt Hunter reading over my shoulder and felt his whole body go rigid.

“I’ll kill them,” he whispered.

“Hunter—“

“No.” He stepped back, his face twisted with grief and rage. The tenderness from our kiss was completely gone. “They killed my father. Now they’re threatening yours. I won’t lose anyone else to them.”

Michael moved to read the text, his face darkening. “Those bastards.”

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