Page 213 of Hard Pass

Oh, hell. This must be destroying Cole.

One of his best friends.

When Tristan steps to the microphone, he grips either side of the podium like it’s holding him up, and for a second he doesn’t speak. The room flashes with camera lights as he swallows forcefully, but none of those reporters know why this man is standing there.

Sadly, I do.

“Hi. My name is Tristan Hilliker, a close friend of Cole Valor’s since high school. And under the advisement of my attorney, I’m here to make a statement.” He holds up the paper in his trembling hand. “I’m here to take responsibility for my actions.”

The rustling that was happening among the reporters stills. They are all completely focused now.

“I am the one responsible for placing the bets that caught the attention of the NFL analytics company.”

I lower myself onto the edge of the couch because standing suddenly feels impossible.

“I want to be clear,” Tristan says, voice uneven and hands trembling. “Cole Valor did not place those bets. He did not ask me to place them. He did not knowingly provide me with any insider information that led me to place them.”

Camera flashes go off as a few reporters shout out questions. Tristan draws in a shaky breath, magnified by the microphone in front of him, and continues.

“I took advantage of our friendship and used what I knew about Cole’s subconscious traits for my own financial gain. His patterns. His habits. Things I noticed because I was close to him. Because I knew him better than most.”

The betrayal in that statement is so much worse than numbers on a page. It’s proximity. Access. Trust weaponized.

“I took advantage of that and him,” Tristan says. “And I am responsible for the damage that caused.”

My fingers tighten around the phone as I blink away tears. Cole has to be absolutely devastated. No wonder he was so quiet when he came home last night. Between his dad and Tristan, he’s been put through an emotional wringer and holding it all in.

“The GIA investigator, Dublin Locke, did not compromise her investigation either.”

“Cole,” I whisper.

“In fact, Ms. Locke and her team had worked out the how and when the bets were being decided. What I was watching for. The only thing she hadn’t figured out was who was placing them—a near impossibility seeing as my bets were made off-book and through outside and overseas channels. Then on a stroke of luck, someone tipped off the media as to her and Cole’s relationship. That’s when she was falsely accused of impropriety and the investigation derailed.” He clears his throat and looks down for a beat. “Ms. Locke did not protect Cole Valor. Any perception otherwise is because of me.”

The room tilts and I feel incredibly dizzy.

“Cole shouldn’t be under suspicion for my choices. And Dublin Locke shouldn’t have her integrity questioned because I hid behind someone else’s reputation.”

Another tear slips down my cheek, but I don’t wipe it away.

“I am cooperating fully with the league, the team, and any additional investigation into my conduct.” He pauses. “I understand there might be consequences if it’s deemed I exploited insider information. I accept them.”

I hear Cole exhale a thready breath through the phone.

Tristan then looks directly into the camera. “I’d like to apologize to Cole. To Dublin. For the chaos and confusion I caused. And more than anything, I’m sorry for betraying the trust that should have mattered more to me than any debt I owed.”

The words hang there, heavy and final, and the second he steps back and the reporters realize he’s done talking, the room explodes.

Reporters shout over each other. Cameras flash. Finn steps forward again but I can’t hear anything anymore . . . because it’s over.

The shadow over Cole’s name. Over mine. Over us. I know it’s not gone completely and that public perception won’t just vanish because someone told the truth. I still messed up and crossed lines.

But this is proof. Truth. The thing I was trained to find and somehow still missed.

I’ll beat myself up later over that, but for now, I’ll take the win.

I press a hand over my mouth. “Cole,” I whisper for what feels like the tenth time.

“I’m here.”