Page 130 of Reputation (Tempt)

Em,

Good luck today, not that you need it. I love you.

Love,

Nate

AND BROOKLYN

I laughedwhen I realized that she must have added her name after he’d already signed the card. It was crammed in there, but I was touched she’d done that. I continued reading.

PS: We left early to let you focus. We’ll be waiting at the finish line.

I picked up the bracelet.It was all red apart from the white disks with gold letters on them that spelled “Fearless.” A reference to one of our favorite songs and my mantra for the day. I wiped away a tear, feeling so very fortunate to have Nate and Brooklyn in my life.

I slipped on the bracelet with a smile, feeling stronger and more powerful already. I listened to my race-day playlist while I was getting ready. When the song, “You’re on Your Own, Kid,” came on, I paused to really listen to the lyrics. They just hit different that morning. And I smiled at my reflection as I applied red lipstick in honor of my badass alter ego. I was just refilling my water bottle when there was a knock at the door. My dad stood in the hall, Jackson behind him.

“Morning,” Dad said, frowning at my red lips. I often wore makeup to practice, but a red lip was bold for a race.

I nodded but said nothing as we walked toward the entrance to the parking garage.

Some of the other members of Jackson’s team from Hudson Security would protect Nate and Brooklyn, as well as the rest of our family. I inhaled deeply, trying not to think of how many people would be watching me compete.

“Did you eat?” Dad asked.

I nodded. I’d eaten, but I was so nervous about my race, I felt like I was going to throw up. The mere idea of opening my mouth had me staying quiet for fear that I’d do just that. Instead, I kept my focus on what lay ahead. I channeled my alter ego and took calming breaths.

Jackson drove us to the field, closemouthed the entire time, though his eyes kept darting back to me. I tried to ignore his concern, just as I’d tried to ignore Nate’s last night. But he was right to be worried—they both were. I wasn’t sure I could do this, though I’d never admit that aloud.

Dad was quiet during the drive, giving me a chance to go through my race-day routine. I appreciated the continuity of the ritual, even if it felt as if an extra layer of tension covered us like a weighted blanket. I was convinced this was my last race. And Dad remained optimistic I’d change my mind.

I pushed away thoughts of failure. Of my retirement. Of everything but the race. This was my last competition, and I wanted to make it count. I wanted to go out on a high.

When we reached the stadium, the crowd was larger than it had ever been. Most of them probably hoping for a glimpse of Nate. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the circus that came with being his fake fiancée. Today was about me. It was about doing the best that I could.

“You’re ready for this, Em,” Dad said. “It’s what we’ve trained for day after day. It’s what you were born to do.”

I nodded and inserted my earbuds, trying to tune everything else out. The pressure. The anxiety. The stress.

My alter ego wouldn’t give a shit about any of that, so neither did I.

Even though we’d parked in a gated lot, paparazzi were staked out at the gate. I tried to ignore them too. Today wasn’t about Nate or our relationship, though his support—and Brooklyn’s—had bolstered me. This was about me and my accomplishments.

Despite all the drama leading up to this, I felt strong. Clearheaded. I wanted to race. And I wanted to end my career on my own terms.

Dad and I signed in and then went to the warm-up area, running through some basic drills. My fellow competitors proceeded through their own warm-ups, and I tried to ignore the curious looks sent my way.

They didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but doing the best I could. Giving it my all. Leaving the track with nothing left in my tank. This was my last shot, and I wasn’t going to blow it.

* * *

The following afternoon,I lay on the track, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. My chest was still heaving from finishing the 800 meter, but I’d done it. I’d won.

And I’dkilledalmost every event I’d competed in, starting with the 100-meter hurdles yesterday, the high jump, the shot put, and the 200-meter sprint. And then I’d carried that momentum through to today, hitting personal records on the long jump and javelin before finishing first overall.

And yet, as the tears fell—relief and joy and every other emotion—I knew this was it. My last race. It was bittersweet, but I was grateful to go out on a high.

As soon as I stepped off the track, Nate swept me up in his arms despite the fact that I was a sweaty, teary-eyed mess. A million cameras went off as he held me close and whispered, “You did it, Em.”

---