“I mean it.” He folded his arms, looking out over the crowd. “When you came on board, I figured you’d last a month before Hunter drove you out. Boy didn’t know how to look at a camera without falling over his own feet.”
I smiled faintly. “He’s improved.”
“Youimproved him.”
“That’s generous,” I said. “He did the work. I just… redirected it.”
McAvoy gave a rough chuckle. “You make it sound simple. But I’ve been watching. The way he handles post-game now, the media scrums, the kids who ask for autographs. There’s an ease there I never thought he’d find. That’s you.”
The words hit deeper than I expected. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
He nodded, sipping his drink. “You know what else? I should’ve made him our number one a long time ago. The kid’s got steel. That save in the last game?” He shook his head, still half in awe. “That’s the stuff championships are built on.”
I followed his gaze to where Hunter stood beneath the chandelier’s golden light, his smile faint and polite as a sponsor talked to him.
McAvoy’s voice softened. “This season… we’ve got a shot. A real one. And because of him, the back office is finally breathing easier. Hunter’s brand, his control, the way the public sees him, it’s keeping management happy. Hell, even the merch numbers are up. You did that.”
I smiled, throat tight. “Then I guess we both finally earned our keep.”
He huffed a small laugh. “Don’t sell yourself short. You walked into a fire and didn’t flinch. I’ve been in this business a long time, Griswold. That’s rare.”
For a second, I didn’t know what to say. Praise from Bob was one thing. From McAvoy? That was a lifetime achievement badge.
“Thank you, Coach. Really.”
He gave a curt nod, setting down his glass. “Enjoy the night. You’ve earned it.”
As he walked off toward the main table, I turned back toward the bar, ready to finally—finally—close the distance between me and Hunter.
But he’d already turned away.
He was laughing at something one of the PR interns said, his hand brushing hers as he reached for his drink. His smile looked easy. Unbothered.
Mine felt forced.
The music swelled again, some upbeat pop number that didn’t match the weight of the rock sitting in my stomach. Maybe I had ruined something good. Maybe I’d pushed too far with his family, crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.
I stood there a while longer, glass in hand, surrounded by laughter and gold light and the echo of a man who wouldn’t even look my way.
Minutes slipped by, and I found him near the balcony again, scanning the room like he always did, perfect posture, calm face, but his eyes sharp. I stepped forward, heart hammering.
“Hunter,” I said.
He turned slowly, gaze narrowing. “Holly,” he said, flat, cautious. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you. Now,” I said, moving closer.
He shifted, almost blocking me with his stance. “Not here,” he muttered, low. “This isn’t the—”
“Yes, here,” I cut him off, tugging lightly on his sleeve. “Please. Just five minutes. That’s all.”
He exhaled through his nose, stiff, tense, then finally gave a small nod. “Fine,” he said, voice tight, “but be quick. I don’t have all night.”
I grabbed his hand and steered him toward the cloakroom. His resistance melted just enough for me to pull him along. “Hunter—please,” I murmured again.
Once inside, I shut the door behind us. Immediately, the tension between us thickened, pressing against the walls. I stepped in front of him, hands slightly raised, ready to explain.
“I—” I started.
