Page 150 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
But I’ve never had peace. Not like when she’s sitting next to me with her feet in my lap, reading some article on her phone while I flip through game footage. Not like when she hums under her breath while making coffee in the morning, unconscious and content.
Not like this.
The realization follows me to practice, where I’m completely useless. I can’t focus on drills, miss simple passes, get my ass handed to me in scrimmage because my head is somewhere else entirely.
“You good, Hunt?” Silas asks during a water break. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Fine,” I lie. “Just tired.”
But I’m not tired. I’m terrified.
Having serious feelings for Juliet might change everything. It certainly makes this whole arrangement infinitely more complicated. It forces me to view the expiration date on our contract as a countdown to unhappiness.
Am I happy? Not completely, but happier than I was when I lived alone. Juliet has brightened my days.
I’m still processing this earth-shattering revelation when my phone buzzes. Text after text, missed calls, the notification storm that means something bad has happened. Shit.
The first headline I see makes my blood turn to ice.
“Hockey Mom Breaks Her Silence: Darla Huxley Opens Up About Life with ‘The Chainsaw’”
Then another:“Mother’s Heartbreak: Former Agent Details Son’s Volatile Behavior”
And another:“Exclusive: Inside Hunter Huxley’s Troubled Family Dynamic”
Darla’s face is everywhere. Perfectly composed, playing the role of concerned mother to perfection. The articles are careful, walking the line between sympathy-generating and legally actionable.
She claims I’ve always been volatile. That “The Chainsaw” isn’t just a hockey nickname; according to her, it’s who I am behind closed doors. Mom depicts herself as a frightened mother, abused and cast aside by the son for whom she sacrificed everything.
Disgusting.
Mom doesn’t say anything concrete. Nothing I could sue her for. Just twisted little implications and promises of a “full story” coming soon.
“Christ.” I can’t breathe. My ears are ringing. All I can think is,what the fuck. What the actual fuck.
I gave my mom everything. I worked my ass off for years, built a career from dirt and determination, and handed her the keys to it all. She was my agent, my mouthpiece, my fucking power of attorney. I let her take more than her share, again and again, because she was my mother. I wanted to believe she loved me.
But it was never enough.
I will never be enough for her.
And if my mother says that I’m a monster, how the hell can I expect anyone else to believe me? How can I expect anyone to stay? Especially someone like Juliet. She’s all bright fire and sharp intelligence and polished professionalism. This mess is no place for her. Juliet doesn’t deserve to be dragged down by my family’s dysfunction.
I drive home in a haze, bracing for the fallout. Juliet will pull away, start making exit plans, and remember that this is supposed to be temporary anyway.
But instead of pulling away, Juliet goes to war for me.
I find out about it when I’m almost home. Silas texts me a link to a live stream. “Dude, your girl is handling business.”
Juliet is standing in front of a bank of microphones, looking calm and professional and absolutely lethal. She hasn’t checked in with me first, hasn’t asked permission or run her strategy past anyone. She just dealt with it.
“The Huxley family will step away from media obligations for the time being,” she says, her voice steady and authoritative. “Mr. Huxley and his brothers deserve privacy during this difficult time. Their mother is experiencing some troubling personal issues, obviously. And certain news outlets are preying on her weakness to get a cheap story.”
A reporter shouts a question about the allegations. Juliet doesn’t even blink.
“On a personal note, I’ve known Hunter Huxley for years. He would never do what his mother is accusing him of. He’s known for being The Chainsaw, but that’s just a persona. Inside, he has a heart of gold. He’s the most decent, principled person I know. And I would say that even if I weren’t his fiancée.”
My heart tightens in my chest. Decent and principled? Not words I ever expected from Juliet Monroe. They evensoundconvincing.
