Page 50 of The Rookie's Sister

“Dr. Alden, this is Xavier Johnson, the football player for Chicago Thunderhawks. I was told you’re the specialist who can help Charles Thompson—the father of Emma and Jeff Thompson. You know, Jeff is on the team, too.”

There’s a pause, and then Dr. Alden says, “Yes, I’m familiar with Mr. Thompson’s case. It’s quite severe, but I should tell you, I have a long waitlist, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, I heard,” I reply, taking a deep breath. “Look, let me get straight to the point. I heard the hospital is planning a big charity event for a new wing, right? What if I could help make it a tremendous success? Bring in some big names, get the media involved, the whole nine yards.”

A pause, longer this time. “Interesting proposition,” Dr. Alden finally says. “But commitments to events like this are not to be taken lightly. You understand that, I hope.”

“Absolutely,” I reply. “I’m not talking about a photo op. I mean actual involvement—time, effort, endorsements, genuine commitment.”

Another pause, and then Dr. Alden speaks. “Well, if you’re willing to commit to that extent, I believe we can make an exception for Mr. Thompson. But let me be clear: this is a onetime arrangement.”

“I get it,” I say, then hesitate. “One thing, though. I don’t want someone else losing their spot on your list because of this. Can you make sure of that?”

Dr. Alden’s voice softens for the first time. “Mr. Johnson, I assure you I’ll work extra hours to make sure they bump no one from the list. Everyone who needs care will get it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Alden,” I say, feeling like I can finally breathe. “You won’t regret it, and neither will the hospital.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Johnson,” he says, and then we say our goodbyes.

As I hang up the phone, I feel a mix of relief and newfound determination. This is big—big for Charles, big for the hospital, and maybe, just maybe, big for whatever is happening between Emma and me.

Minutes later, a text pings my phone—it’s from the surgeon’s office, confirming Charles’ date for surgery in just two days. This is really happening. A bubble of hope swells in my chest. Emma will be happy.

But what if she sees this as a manipulation? Overstepping bounds already fraught between us? But if it saves her father’s life, surely she’ll forgive me that extra step?

I stare down at my phone, contemplating. Do I give Emma a heads up? Or let the hospital deliver the news?

Finally, I slip my phone into my pocket, leaving it up to fate. I’ve done all I can. Now it’s out of my hands.

* * *

Pacing my living room, I let out a sigh. For a moment, I feel good about what I’ve done—like I’ve made a real difference. Then, like clockwork, doubt creeps in.

My phone buzzes, snapping me out of my thoughts. It’s Wayne, my agent.

“Xavi, what’s the deal? Pulse Athletic’s been on my ass. They’re ready to cut a big check, man,” Wayne’s voice crackles through the speaker.

I pause, Emma’s words about fast fashion and its environmental cost echoing in my head. “Look, Wayne, I’m serious. The whole fast fashion thing doesn’t sit right with me. I need to see some changes before I’ll feel right about going with it.”

Wayne chuckles. “Man, when the fuck did you start caring about that stuff? They’re offering serious money and exposure.”

“But is it the right thing to do?” The question feels weird, even to me. I’m not usually the guy sweating over the small ethical stuff. But Emma’s got me questioning a lot of things in my life.

Wayne sighs, the sound heavy with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Since when did you turn into Captain Planet?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say, skirting around the real reason for my hesitation. “I’m just taking a closer look at the choices I’m making, that’s all.”

“Fine, I’ll tell ‘em you need more time. But just so you know, opportunities like this don’t grow on trees,” Wayne warns.

“I get it, man. Thanks,” I say, ending the call.

I sit down, my mind spinning. Every choice suddenly feels heavier, like there’s more at stake than just me. That’s Emma’s influence, no doubt about it.

My phone buzzes again before I even have a chance to fully process my conversation with Wayne. The caller ID shows it’s Ms. Williams, a board member from the hospital, if I recall correctly.

“Xavier, I just wanted to personally thank you for your commitment to our upcoming charity event. It’s a generous offer,” she starts.

“Ms. Williams, it’s something I believe in. Happy to help,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.

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