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No, not guilt. Uncertainty. About how intertwined the personal and professional are becoming here. Xavier and I are playing with fire, that much is clear. Even if last night’s white-hot kiss was just smoke and mirrors, it felt dangerously real in the moment. Where do we draw the line between true and false, between helping Jeff and satisfying our own ulterior motives?
I force a lightness into my tone. “Well, as long as you keep your head down and keep impressing, little bro, I’m happy. I’ll handle Xavier and the politics.”
Jeff thanks me again and hangs up. As I slide on a Thunderhawks cap and tug my ponytail through the back, his words keep playing through my head. Xavier helped Jeff at practice. Could be he’s just earning up to his promise, but what if it’s more? I think of the focused way he watches Jeff on the field, almost paternal. Is it possible Xavier truly wants to see my brother succeed? And if so, where does that leave us?
These thoughts are getting too heavy for early morning; I need to clear my head. Locking up, I head out for my usual weekend long run. The sun is still low in the sky, casting the city in a golden glow. As my feet pound the familiar path along the lakeshore, memories from the gala play like a movie reel in my mind—the blinding camera flashes, Rachel’s razor sharp gaze, Xavier’s playful smile as he guided me through the crowds. The heat of him practically burning my skin despite the layers between us.
God help me, when he looks at me like that, I feel it everywhere. His charm is a tangible force, sinking into my pores, making it impossible to resist his pull. Everything about him draws me closer, like a moth to a flame. His sculpted arms in that perfectly tailored tuxedo. His smooth baritone murmuring intimately in my ear. And those searing kisses that set every nerve ending ablaze—all for show, I remind myself harshly. Xavier Johnson is not yours to get attached to, Thompson.
By mile three, my mind settles into that heady runner’s calm. The lakefront trail levels out, sunlight dancing off the water. As my breathing evens into a peaceful rhythm, my thoughts clear. This thing with Xavier is complicated, no question. There are layers upon layers here I have yet to unravel. But I can handle complex. Life is messy - something my dad taught me young. What matters most is how you face the mess when it inevitably comes.
Dad. The thought of him makes my throat tighten. I should visit while I’m close by. Mile four brings me near the hospital, so I hang a left to go inside. The familiar antiseptic scent washes over me as I walk the sterile halls to his room. Dad looks tired but alert when I step inside.
“Hey there. Surprise visit from your favorite daughter,” I say, leaning down to kiss his scratchy cheek.
Dad gives me a wry look. “I’d say you’re my only daughter, but I don’t want to hurt Janie’s feelings.”
I laugh. Janie is our elderly tabby cat back home. It’s good to see Dad joking after all he’s endured the past week. We make small talk about the doctors, the food, “barely edible”, and how he’s itching to sleep in his own bed again.
“What about you, Em? How are you holding up with your brother’s gig there?” he asks, reclining back against the pillows.
I rearrange his IV cords, buying time. Dad doesn’t know the full story about Xavier, and now doesn’t seem the time to get into it. “Oh, you know. Just trying to keep Jeff out of trouble.”
Dad studies me, brown eyes keen despite the oxygen cannula under his nose. “You’ve always been like your mother—never could hide your worries from me. Everything okay?”
I look down, fiddling with a loose thread on his blanket as the mention of my mother brings a lump to my throat. It doesn’t matter how long she’s been gone. Every so often, I’m struck with a fresh wave of grief. Dad has enough on his plate without me unloading my tangled love life woes. But his familiar, patient gaze draws the truth out like a lodestone.
“Let’s just say things are...complicated right now. I’m trying to do what’s best for our family, but my heart and head don’t always agree.”
Dad lays a weathered hand over mine and squeezes gently. “You know what your mother always said. The heart wants what it wants. But sometimes life has other plans.” He smiles, the skin crinkling around his eyes. “Not exactly profound advice, I know. But the best any parent can do is remind you to listen to yourself—both heart and head. You’re too smart not to know the right path when you see it.”
I lace my fingers through his, soaking up his steadying warmth. Dad always could see right through me and speak the truth I didn’t want to acknowledge. As much as I try to live logically, emotions creep in to muddy the waters. Xavier Johnson seems very intent on crashing through all my careful boundaries and leaving that murky water in his wake.
By the time I leave, the knot in my chest has loosened, breathing coming a fraction easier. Whatever happens next, with Dad recovering and Jeff pursuing his dream, I can weather any storm. Even a pair of smoldering brown eyes and a knee-weakening smile.
The lakefront trail beckons, so I start the long run back home, resolved to clear my head. Dad is stable, Jeff is thriving. Those are the priorities now. Xavier and this conveniently cozy fake romance will sort themselves out in time. Just stick to the plan.
I’m so consumed with self-talk that I don’t notice the runner approaching until we’ve nearly collided. I pull up sharply, shoes scuffing the pavement. As I look up to apologize, the words evaporate on my tongue.
Of all the paths in Chicago, Xavier Johnson has to cross mine.
He looks unfairly good, flushed and sweaty in a tank top and shorts, muscles contracting smoothly as he jogs in place. His startled eyes meet mine, equally surprised by this encounter.
“Emma! Fancy running into you here,” he says. Was that nervous laughter? No, must be my imagination. Xavier doesn’t get flustered.
I try unsuccessfully to slow my racing pulse, and it has nothing to do with the physical exercise. “Hey! Out for a jog?”
Brilliant observation, Thompson. Xavier gestures wordlessly to his athletic ensemble, looking amused.
“Right, dumb question,” I mutter. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you.” Outside of charity balls and family dinners, that is. Our worlds aren’t supposed to intersect like this. It feels too...intimate.
“I heard this neighborhood wasn’t a bad spot for a morning run. Just trying to clear my head.” Xavier rolls a shoulder, not quite meeting my eyes. “Been a lot going on lately.”
I have the strangest sense he means me. Or at least this unconventional situation we’ve entangled ourselves in. For a moment, I wonder if he feels this strange connection between us. The morning sun catches the sheen of sweat on his collarbone, and I have to drag my eyes away. Focus, Thompson.
“I get that. I was visiting my dad, actually. He’s doing better.” I don’t know why I add that last part. Maybe I want him to know my family is still my priority. Not wide receivers with dreamy brown eyes and breathtaking smiles.
Xavier’s expression softens. “That’s great to hear. Give him my best next time you visit.”
