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I cross my arms, mind racing. I can’t let them brush Jeff aside so easily. “Look, I’ve been working with the kid. He’s got potential. Just needs time to develop.”
“That’s a luxury we may not have.” Robert levels me with a piercing look. “I’ll give you two weeks before the trade window closes. If you can prove the rookie has what it takes, we’ll keep him on. If not, well...” He trails off grimly.
My gut twists even as determination floods me. It’s a hell of an ultimatum, but I’m not giving up on Jeff yet. I tell myself that it’s only because I see that potential and it has nothing to do with the rookie’s big sister or the way my gut tightened at the thought of her disappointment. “Got it. I’ll push the kid twice as hard, get him up to speed. Just leave it to me.”
Robert studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Alright Johnson, we’ll do it your way. But my hands are tied if we don’t see concrete improvement.” He heads for the clubhouse, leaving me standing alone on the empty field, his words swirling through my mind.
This complicates things exponentially. I rake a hand through my sweat-soaked curls, suddenly bone tired. I’d already promised Emma I would mentor her brother. Made it part of our little arrangement. But now his whole career hinges on what I can teach him in 14 days.
And Emma. What the hell do I tell her? That her brother will get cut if I can’t pull off a miracle? I picture the worry clouding those intelligent green eyes behind her glasses, the weight of responsibility already weighing on her shoulders with her dad in the hospital. This news could break her. Or maybe it will strengthen her resolve, light that fiery spark I’ve caught flickers of beneath her practical exterior.
God, I wish I could read that woman better. Emma Thompson is an enigma, always keeping me guessing. And I’m no closer to unraveling her now than the first day she intrigued me with that sharp tongue and stubborn dedication. Makes me want to dig deeper, peel away those layers one by one...
I forcefully derail that train of thought. Fantasizing about Emma won’t help me save her brother’s career. As much as I don’t like the idea, I need to keep her at arm’s length right now, for both our sakes. Be the mentor Jeff needs, give him a real fighting chance. I can figure out the rest later.
Decision made, I stride toward the locker room, muscles pleasantly fatigued. The rookie will get the toughest two weeks of training in his life starting tomorrow. I’ll make sure he learns that playbook back to front, drill every route and pattern until he can run them in his sleep. It’s a Hail Mary plan, but I don’t have better options. And I keep my promises.
I’m almost to the door when a figure in black leggings and a ponytail turns the corner, nose buried in her phone. Emma. I freeze, pulse skyrocketing. How is it she still catches me off guard every damn time, my chest tightening with something I don’t want to name?
She looks up and stops short, eyes widening as something unreadable passes across them. An awkward tension instantly charges the air between us. We both know exactly why. My reckless proposition hangs over us like a brewing storm: Should we make this real?
“Oh! Xavier, hi,” she says a little too brightly. “I was just, um, checking in on Jeff’s progress. Making sure those early practices are helping.”
She fiddles with the earbuds looped around her neck, not quite meeting my gaze. I shove my hands in my pockets, suddenly hyperaware of my sweaty shirt and disheveled curls.
“Right, of course. Jeff’s doing good. Still needs work, but he’s got real promise.” I keep my tone light, hoping she can’t hear the turmoil in my head. Man, I do not need this distraction right now. But the sight of her face flush, teeth tugging that full bottom lip...it tempts me to throw all better judgment aside and take what I want. What we could have together, if she’d just let me in.
Emma smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Well, I’m really glad to hear that. Thank you again for taking the time with him. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate this season.”
Her words bring a twist of guilt. If only she knew how much was really on the line. But I force my features neutral, hoping she can’t read the secrets in my eyes.
“Of course, it’s my pleasure,” I say lightly. “Your brother has genuine talent. Just needs some guidance to reach his potential.”
Emma studies me a moment, brows faintly furrowed. For a second I’m terrified she sees right through my facade. Then she exhales and the tightness in her shoulders eases.
“Still, I appreciate you looking out for him. Let me know if you need anything else from me.” She hesitates, like she wants to say more, then just nods. “I’ll let you get back to your day. See you around, Xavier.”
“See you,” I echo lamely as she continues down the path. I stand watching her retreating figure, emotions warring within me. It’s for the best that she doesn’t know about Jeff’s jeopardy. One less distraction from the hard road ahead. But seeing the trust in her eyes stir feelings, I have no right to indulge now. With a sharp exhale, I turn and push through the locker room doors, leaving thoughts of Emma Thompson and her dangerously tempting lips behind. Focus on the things you can control, Johnson. Let the rest fall into place.
I continue on with my routine, showering and changing into casual wear. The weight of the day’s revelations still sits heavily on my shoulders as I grab my phone. Wayne, my agent’s name, flashes on the screen.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answer, my voice a little more curt than intended.
“Xavier, listen, there’s a charity event tonight. They’d lost one of their stars and ask for you to make an appearance. I know it’s last minute, but it’s a good cause and it’ll be good for your brand,” Wayne’s voice rushes through the speaker.
I rub my forehead, weighing the pros and cons. “Who else is going?”
A slight pause. “Well, Rachel will be there, with Mark Collins.”
Ah, Rachel and Mark. Just what I needed. Another encounter with my ex added to my already complicated life. My jaw tightens at the mention of her name. I’m not sure if it’s my wounded ego, a pang of residual affection, or just the competitive streak in me that hates to lose at anything, but I say, “Alright, I’ll be there.”
“Great, I’ll send you the details.”
We hang up, and for a moment, I’m caught in my thoughts. It’s a dangerous game I’m doing, throwing myself back into the social circus with Rachel and her new beau. But then again, maybe it’s the danger I need right now, a diversion from the precarious balance of my professional life and whatever’s happening—or not happening—with Emma.
I stare at my phone, thumb hovering over Emma’s contact. Should I tell her to go? My gut says no, stay away. But another part of me, the part that felt electric at her touch, wants her close.
Before I know it, I’m typing. An unexpected event has come up. It’s tonight - feel like playing the doting girlfriend again to make my ex jealous?
