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With that, she bustles back through the swinging door, her practical sneakers squeaking down the hall. Emma drops her forehead into her hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. I shift awkwardly, unsure if I should comfort her or give her space. But before I can decide, she lifts her head and catches my eye.
Her eyes are round and glossy, but behind the sheen of tears, I sense something sharper. Suspicion. Comprehension dawning. She knows. Somehow she’s put it all together.
She walks up to me. “Thank you,” she says again, but it’s different this time.
I shove my fists into my pockets and study the flecked tiles. “Just glad I could be here. Your dad’s a good man. He deserves the team rooting for him.”
Lame. I wince at my own feeble deflection. But the words hang between us now, loaded and inescapable. I feel like I’m waiting for something to go off.
Emma presses her lips together, considering me for a long moment. When she finally speaks, her voice is gentle but deliberate. “It’s pretty remarkable that the top cardiothoracic surgeon in the country just happened to have an opening on his schedule for Dad’s operation. Some might even call that a miracle.”
I scrub a hand over my mouth, pulse kicking. No use denying it now.
“Emma, I—”
But before I can finish, my cell phone blares to life, rattling against my thigh. Caller ID flashes Wayne’s name. Pulse Athletic’s lucrative sponsorship offer. The deal he’s still trying to get me to accept.
“I should take this,” I mutter. Emma nods, eyes guarded.
I frown at the phone for a split second before silencing the call and shoving it back into my pocket. Wayne can wait. I have something more important to deal with right now.
“You deserve an explanation,” I say frankly, holding Emma’s gaze. “I made some calls. Pulled some strings. Asked the doctor to do me a personal favor. I wanted to help get your dad the best treatment possible. But I didn’t do it fishing for gratitude or to...to gain your favor.”
I exhale sharply, struggling to articulate feelings I can barely untangle myself.
“I did it because—” I stop, start again. “Because I care about you. About your family. And because with the people who matter, you do whatever it takes. Even if that means calling in favors you swore you’d never use.”
Emma studies me for a long moment, eyes bright. When she finally speaks, her voice wavers just slightly. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me you were trying to help?”
I rake both hands through my hair, stalling. She’s right—I should have been upfront instead of maneuvering in secret. But at the time, our relationship was on shaky ground. I was afraid she’d refuse out of pride or principle. That I’d unintentionally hurt her trying to help.
“I guess I thought it would be better if I handled things quietly. I didn’t want you to feel like you...owed me anything.”
Even as I say it, I realize how patronizing it sounds. How utterly I’ve misjudged this remarkable woman standing in front of me. If I fuck things up with her because of this, it won’t be because of what I actually did, but because my reasoning for keeping it a secret are flawed.
Emma presses her lips together, considering this. Then she takes a step closer, eyes earnest. “Just so you know, that’s not why I thanked you earlier. And it’s not why I’m thanking you now. I know you didn’t do this as some kind of transaction.”
She pauses, emotion creeping into her voice. “You did it because you have a good heart. Because you understand what it means to protect the people you care about. And I’ll never take that for granted.”
Hearing her say this releases some invisible vise that’s been squeezing my chest for days. I let out a long breath, the hint of a smile tugging at my mouth.
“Well, in that case...you’re welcome.”
We share a look then—a real, meaningful look without artifice or expectations. In her eyes, I glimpse possibilities I’ve been too afraid or proud to acknowledge before. Maybe I haven’t irreparably screwed this up after all.
The charged moment is broken by another irritating buzz from my phone. I don’t need caller ID to know it’s Wayne again. I silence the call, but not before Emma’s eyes flicker to my pocket.
“That sponsorship offer?” she asks neutrally. No judgment, just curiosity. God, have I ever met a woman like her?
I nod tightly. “Yeah. They’re pressing me for an answer they like better than the concerns I expressed.”
“Hmm.” Emma furrows her brow. “And what are you going to tell them?”
It’s a simple question without an easy answer. Signing the Pulse Athletic deal could take my career, or at least my income, to the next level. But it could also unravel everything I’ve come to care about. Everything I believe in.
I think of that conversation Emma and I had weeks ago, when she asked me what I wanted people to remember about me after I retire. That my stats were the best? That I made crazy money? Or that I stood for more than personal glory?
My answer rings loud and clear now, like a bell cutting through fog.
