Page 22 of The Rookie's Sister

He sounds like he genuinely means it. Once again, he’s surprising me. A long pause grows between us, filled only with early morning birdsong and the lap of waves along the shore. I fiddle with my earbuds, increasingly aware of Xavier’s eyes on me.

“So, listen...” he finally says. “Have you thought any more about...you know. This whole fake dating thing?”

He rumples his short curls almost nervously. I bite the inside of my cheek.

“It’s definitely more complicated than I pictured,” I admit. “I want to help Jeff, obviously. But the lines are getting kind of blurry...”

I trail off, unsure how to put words to these nebulous feelings Xavier evokes in me - at once thrilling and terrifying. He takes a half step closer, voice lowered.

“You’re right, it’s gotten complicated fast. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” His eyes lock onto mine, vulnerability flickering across his face. “What if we just made this real?”

My heart seizes like a faulty engine. The world narrows down to Xavier’s beautiful, uncertain face. He moves another fraction closer, and I catch the intoxicating scent of his sweat mingled with lingering cologne. Every neuron in my brain is firing out of sync. Xavier can’t be implying...

But his searching eyes don’t waver from mine. In their depths, I see my own conflicted feelings reflected. He’s just as uncertain of this ill-defined thing brewing between us. And just like that, the game has changed.

I open my mouth, then close it again, pulse pounding in my ears. The rules of our arrangement no longer apply. I am standing on the edge of a precipice, my old life behind me, and something terrifying and new stretched before us. So I do the only thing I can.

I run. Literally.

Mumbling some lame excuse, I break Xavier’s magnetic gaze and take off down the path, feet slapping the concrete. My mind spins faster than my legs. I run until my muscles burn and Xavier’s dangerous question fades into the distance. But his eyes—hopeful, vulnerable and utterly human—remain seared into my soul.

This fake relationship is getting hotter every day. I’ve stood toe to toe with volatile forces before. But I don’t know if I can handle Xavier’s simmering fire. Last night we reached a slow boil, this morning a rolling simmer. One more spark and we may both go up in flames. Because despite all my best intentions, I know one truth with sudden, breathtaking clarity—I am in serious trouble here.

TEN

XAVIER

The clang of iron plates echoes through the empty gym as I rack another set of deadlifts. Even this early, my t-shirt is soaked with sweat, muscles burning pleasantly from the exertion. But my mind isn’t focused on my workout. No, it’s replaying one rash, impulsive moment on repeat - asking Emma to make our relationship real.

I strip off the weights and grab a towel, brow furrowed. What the hell was I thinking? What the fuck is wrong with me? We have a good thing going, a convenient arrangement that benefits her brother and makes my ex jealous. And I had to go and complicate it by getting all emotional. I scrub the towel roughly over my face, equal parts embarrassed and frustrated with myself. That kiss at the gala to one-up my ex, fried my circuits, no question. The feel of her in my arms, her lips pressed fiercely to mine...it knocked me off-kilter in a way I’m not used to. Made me want more. Made me say things I shouldn’t have.

With a sigh, I grab my phone and scroll through notifications, stomach twisting. Part of me hopes Emma responded to my proposition. Most of me hope she’s going to ignore it completely so we can go back to the way things were before. But there’s no message, no sign she even heard me. Just radio silence since our charged encounter on the running path yesterday morning.

Probably for the best. Get your head back in the game, Johnson.

The rookie training session awaits, so I stuff my gear in my bag and head for the practice field, resolve hardening with each step. Whatever this thing is with Emma, I can’t let it become a distraction. Not with so much at stake this season. A two-time All-Pro receiver doesn’t earn an all-time record contract by losing focus over a pair of pretty green eyes behind sexy librarian glasses. Just keep your eyes on the prize like always, ace.

When I arrive, Jeff is already on the field running routes. Gotta give the kid credit, he’s always early like his sister. I wave in greeting and start our warmup drills. We’ve been working together several mornings this week, and slowly but surely, I’m seeing improvement.

We run through all the basic patterns first - posts, outs, drags. Jeff’s memorized most of the playbook by now, but needs to get the muscle memory ingrained. I remind him to sink his hips on cuts, explosion forward from the break.

“Relax your shoulders, let your legs do the work,” I suggest, demonstrating the motion. Jeff watches me closely, then tries again. This time the move looks more fluid.

“Better,” I say with an approving nod. Jeff’s face lights up at the praise. Gotta remember to encourage the rookies too - can’t improve if they’re always on edge. We practice a few more times until he nails it.

“Now that’s how you do it!” I give him a friendly smack on the back. The kid grins, flushed and out of breath but focused.

By the time we wrap, the midday sun beats down on us and his shirt is as drenched as mine. Maybe with enough work, Jeff can hack it after all.

Just then the club owner, Robert, flags me down, his usually impassive face furrowed. My gut sinks - that’s his “we need to talk” look. I wave Jeff ahead to the lockers and jog over.

“What’s up, Robert? Everything okay?”

He gestures me closer, voice lowered. “Got some news you may not like. We’re thinking of cutting Jeff before the season starts.”

My pulse stutters. I must’ve misheard. “Cutting Jeff? But why? You said yourself all the rookies get a fair shot to prove themselves.”

Robert scans the empty stands, brow creased. “I know what I said. But other people are skeptical. They don’t want to waste a roster spot if he can’t hack it.”

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