Replaceable: Too Late

Hunter

We were on a road trip.

She said she needed to get out of the city for the weekend, and I didn’t ask questions. I never really do when it comes to her. After training that Saturday noon, I drove straight to Manor Suites to pick her up.

And there she was.

Standing by the entrance like she had nowhere else to be.

Tailored shorts. A cropped tank. Sandals. Oversized shades and a hat that somehow made her look effortless and put-together at the same time. A big tote bag hung off her shoulder, probably filled with things she wouldn’t even use.

I leaned out the window, grinning.

“Hey there, homie!” I called out. “Did you bring snacks?”

She broke into a run—well, her version of a run—digging into her bag mid-step before pulling out a pack of chips.

“You have my favorite!” I said, already reaching for it.

She beamed, handing it over. “For you, love!”

I huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking my head as I took the bag.

Love.

That was new.

Ever since we decided to be “just friends,” she’d started calling me that—the same way she called Ash, Kate, and Nancy. My loves.

I guess I really did get friend-zoned.

The thought should’ve bothered me more than it did.

But it didn’t.

Because I was the one who said I’d wait.

Two months ago. Awards night. That dance floor.

I still remember it too clearly.

She had frozen right in the middle of everything—music, lights, people—and suddenly none of it mattered. Her breathing had gone shallow, uneven, like her body didn’t know how to keep up with her thoughts.

“I’m not ready for this, Hunter…” she’d said, her voice small, almost lost in the noise. “I can’t… not yet. I don’t want to lose what we have. This is… this is good. This is fun.”

She looked terrified.

Not of me.

Of us.

And I remember just… softening.

“Hey,” I told her, keeping my voice low, steady. “Relax. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes had searched mine like she needed to believe it.

“I’ll wait,” I said. “Until you’re ready.”

It took her a few minutes to breathe again, to come back to herself. When she finally stepped forward, we didn’t dance. We just sat down, side by side, like that moment hadn’t just shifted something between us.

I shook my head now, a small smile pulling at my lips at the memory.

Hilarious.

And nerve-wracking as hell.

The passenger door opened, snapping me back.

She slid into the seat, already buzzing with energy. “Let’s go! Road trip!” she cheered, throwing both arms up like we were about to take off.

I laughed, starting the engine.

This version of her—

This is the one I love.

No pressure. No walls. No overthinking.

Just… her.

Easy. Happy. Free.

And somehow—

even if it means being just her friend—

I’d take this over losing her any day.

“What’s up?” I asked, glancing at her—careful not to let the look linger too long.

God, she's so pretty.

And hot.

That's a problem.

She slid her sunglasses up onto her head, pushing a few loose strands of hair back as she exhaled. “Work is crazy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I just need a change of environment. To gain perspective.”

A beat. Then, just like that—lighter, brighter—“Do you want me to open the chips now?”

The switch was instant. Effortless.

“Sure.” I stretched one arm across the steering wheel while my other hand rested loosely on the stick shift. A tired grin pulled at my mouth as I glanced at Bea for half a second before looking back at the road.

“I’m starving.” I drummed my fingers against the wheel, then opened my mouth expectantly when I saw her reaching for the chips.

She tore the bag open and, without even thinking about it, held one up to my mouth. I leaned in slightly, letting her feed me.

“Mmmmmm…” I exaggerated, closing my eyes for a second. “That one never disappoints.”

I opened my mouth again, wordlessly.

She snorted but obliged, dropping a couple more in. One. Two. Three.

She kept talking in between—jumping from one story to another, random comments, little complaints about work, something funny Nancy said, something dramatic Ash did. She was… chatty.

I don’t remember her being like this when we were together.

Was she always that guarded back then?

Or…

Are we just more comfortable now?

No label. No expectations. No pressure sitting between us like a third passenger.

Maybe that’s it.

Maybe this version of us is easier.

She caught me staring.

Of course she did.

“What now???” she shot, narrowing her eyes. “You’re doing that weird stare again. What are you thinking, Mr. Cross, huh?” She swatted my leg.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nothing. Just give me more chips. You talk a lot—you’re not doing your job to feed me.”

“Hey!” she gasped, already laughing. “I’m not your nanny!”

Then she shoved a massive piece into my mouth—way too big.

“Hey—th’st too b—” Completely unintelligible.

She lost it. Full-on laughter, head thrown back, shoulders shaking.

I chewed, glaring at her, then leaned closer—closer than necessary—til we were inches apart.

“Bite it,” I muttered.

She laughed harder, shaking her head. “I will not.”

Instead, she used her fingers to snap off a piece from what was still in my mouth—completely ridiculous—and popped it into hers like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I just stared at her.

Again.

I need help.

“I need a drink,” I said, leaning back.

She was already digging into her tote. “I got you.” She pulled out a soda water, cracked it open, and handed it over like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Like we hadn’t stopped.

The drive was two hours.

It felt like thirty minutes.

We talked. Laughed. Fell into this easy rhythm that didn’t ask for explanations.

And me?

I did what I do best.

I teased her.

Relentlessly.

Poked at every little thing—her stories, her expressions, the way she overreacted, the way she tried to defend herself and failed half the time. I pushed and pushed until she was on the edge of tears from laughing too hard, smacking my arm, telling me to shut up while smiling like she didn’t mean it.

That’s my favorite version of her.

Right there.

And when she finally got too worked up, when her laughter softened into breathless little gasps, I reached over and pulled her in.

A hug.

A friendly one.

The kind where I hold her a little tighter than I should.

Where my hand lingers at her back.

Where I let myself breathe her in—her hair, her skin, something soft and familiar that settles somewhere deep in my chest.

Where I feel her warmth.

And for a second… just a second… everything feels the way it used to.

I let go first.

Of course I do.

Just a friendly hug.

At least…

that’s what I tell myself.

“Where are you taking me again?” Bea asked, turning slightly in her seat as she tucked one leg under her and looked at me.

“There’s this place called the Delaware Water Gap,” I said, keeping one hand steady on the wheel. “The river cuts through the mountain, and it’s just… beautiful.”

“Really?” She glanced down at our clothes before laughing softly. “What are we even going to do there? I don’t think we can go into the water or go hiking. We’re not exactly dressed for that.”

I smiled faintly. “We can just sit down, have a picnic, and enjoy the view. Trust me… it’s beautiful there.”

She studied me for a moment before softening. “How do you know this place? Did you live in Jersey?”

For a second, my grip on the wheel tightened.

“My dad used to bring me and my brothers there when…” I trailed off, my jaw tightening before I forced myself to exhale. “When my mom left.”

The atmosphere in the car shifted instantly.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

I let out a small breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I think it gave him some perspective. And maybe just… fresh air to breathe.” I glanced at her with a faint smirk, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Then I felt it.

Her hand.

Gentle against my arm.

“I’m sorry, Hunter,” she said softly. “I know those were difficult moments for you… and for your family.”

I didn’t pull away.

But I couldn’t answer either.

Because the truth was, I didn’t know what to do when people touched the parts of me I kept hidden.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her slowly pull her hand back before turning toward the window. Her expression softened slightly, distant in a way that told me she was somewhere deep in her own thoughts now.

And for some reason, that made me wonder what she was thinking about.

About me?

About us?

I swallowed slowly and kept my eyes on the road.

The truth was, Bea understood me in ways nobody else ever had.

She saw through the version of me everyone else accepted so easily—the athlete, the confident one, the guy who always knew exactly what to say. She saw the anger underneath it. The fear. The part of me that always expected people to leave eventually.

And maybe that was why losing her hit differently.

Because she knew me.

Really knew me.

I tightened my grip on the wheel slightly.

I knew I’d hurt her.

I knew the things I’d said stayed with her, no matter how many times I apologized for them after. I’d seen it in her face the last time we fought—that moment where the words landed deeper than I intended.

And the worst part?

I had meant for them to hurt.

That truth still made me hate myself a little.

I glanced at her briefly.

Quiet. Thoughtful. Looking out at the passing scenery like she was trying to make sense of something she couldn’t quite solve.

“Come back to me, Bea.”

I’d said it more times than I could count.

And every time she looked at me with that softness in her eyes but still held herself back, it nearly destroyed me.

Because I knew she wanted to.

But wanting wasn’t the same as trusting.

Not anymore.

“Ten minutes to go!” I said finally, cutting through the silence before it swallowed us both.

She blinked and turned toward me.

“Yay,” she said with a small smile.

And just like that, the heaviness eased a little.

I smiled to myself and focused back on the road.

I liked this version of us too.

Easy.

Light.

No pressure hanging over every conversation. No expectations waiting to ruin the moment.

Just laughter.

Just time together.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

By the time we reached Delaware Water Gap, the sky had already started to shift into soft shades of gold and blue.

I barely parked before Bea was already unbuckling her seatbelt.

“This is amazing!” she said, pushing the door open before I’d even turned the engine off.

I laughed under my breath as she hurried out of the car.

“Hey—wait for me,” I called after her.

Of course she didn’t.

I watched her spin slowly as she took everything in—the mountains, the river, the endless stretch of sky opening around us. The cool air moved through her hair, and for a second, she looked completely free.

“Wow…” she whispered.

And I swear, hearing her say that made the place feel even more beautiful.

I walked up beside her, but she kept her eyes on the view.

“Let’s find a bench,” she said, already moving ahead.

We spotted one nearby and headed toward it together, only to stop at the exact same moment.

“…We didn’t bring food,” she said, watching the people on their picnic mats with pure envy. “Look at them. They came prepared. ”

I laughed instantly.

She looked at me, and a second later we were both laughing like idiots.

“Great planning,” she added with a shrug, looking at her bag to see if there's still food hidden somewhere.

“Top tier,” I agreed, dragging a hand through my hair before shifting gears with the other.

Then she pointed toward a small hotdog stand nearby. “Wait—there.”

Perfect.

“Stay here. I’ll grab something,” I said.

“Two hotdogs!” she called after me. “And drinks!”

I smirked. “Bossy.”

Bea turned toward me with narrowed eyes before sticking her tongue out, all dramatic and childish.

I laughed under my breath, shaking my head as I kept one hand on the wheel. “Real mature.”

When I came back, she was sitting cross-legged on the bench with her sunglasses on, looking more relaxed than I’d seen her in weeks.

“Finally,” she said dramatically. “I’m starving.”

I handed her the food like I was delivering room service.

Then, halfway through eating, she leaned toward me suddenly.

“Wait—let me try yours,” Bea said, already grabbing my hotdog.

I stared at her. “You literally have the same thing,” I said, tugging it back toward me.

“Still.”

She pulled harder.

Before I could stop her, she took a bite from mine anyway.

I shook my head, laughing.

“Yours tastes better,” she announced seriously.

“Of course it does.”

So naturally, I took hers too.

“Hey!”

She laughed, bumping her shoulder against mine.

And just like that, everything felt easy again.

We stayed there for a while, eating, talking over each other, stealing food back and forth like we’d done this a hundred times before.

Like we were normal.

Like nothing complicated existed between us.

When we finished eating, we wandered back toward the view again.

The sky had brightened more now, the horizon slowly waking up around us.

“Sunrise here is amazing,” I said casually. “One of the best.”

She turned to me immediately. “Then why didn’t you tell me to pack pajamas?”

I blinked. “Are you serious?”

She was already looking around like she’d made up her mind.

“I see a hotel over there,” Bea said, lifting her hand and pointing across the street, her fingers slightly curled as she squinted into the distance.

She shifted her weight to one leg, tilting her head as if double-checking she wasn’t imagining it.

I followed her gaze, then looked back at her. “You’re actually serious.”

She shrugged, pretending it was casual, but I caught the small spark in her eyes.

“If you don’t have training tomorrow… I say we go for it,” she said, holding my gaze like she was daring me to argue. Her chin tipped up slightly, eyes steady and unblinking, the challenge sitting right there between us.

I stared at her for a second before laughing softly.

“I like this new Bea,” I admitted. “Fun. Spontaneous.”

She grinned. “Oh yeah. I’m a cool and fun girlfriend—”

Then she froze.

I watched the realization hit her immediately.

“Girl—space—friend,” she corrected quickly. “Gal friend. Female friend.” She pointed proudly at herself. “I rock.”

I laughed, but something tightened quietly in my chest anyway.

Because for one second, it sounded natural to her.

Too natural.

“That’s why your guy friends want you to be their girlfriend?” I asked lightly.

She smirked. “You can say that.”

I looked away first before she could notice the reaction on my face.

Because she had no idea how badly I still wanted that title to belong to me.

“Come on,” she said, nudging me lightly. “Let’s check if there’s a room before I change my mind.”

We walked toward the hotel side by side, close enough that our arms brushed occasionally.

Comfortable.

Careful.

Inside, the lobby was quiet.

“Hi,” Bea said to the receptionist. “Do you still have rooms available for tonight?

The staff member gave us a tired smile. “We only have one room for two… and one family room for five left tonight.”

I glanced at Bea.

She paused for just a second before looking at me.

“You okay with one room?” I asked carefully.

She held my gaze a little too long.

Long enough for my pulse to shift.

Then she nodded.

“Okay. We’ll take the room for two.”

Her voice sounded calm, but I could hear the excitement underneath it.

As we stepped aside, she leaned closer to me, lowering her voice.

“This is so impulsive,” she whispered with a smile.

I laughed quietly. “We don’t even have spare clothes.”

“Exactly,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine. “This is going to be fun.”

And standing there beside her, watching that look on her face—

This night was going to be fun…

... but neither of us could tell yet if it was the kind of fun that stays harmless, or the kind that quietly turns dangerous before you even notice.