11. Xander
XANDER
I grabbed the medicine ball, dropped it, caught it in a fluid motion, and slammed it against the floor with all my might. The heavy thud reverberated through the empty gym, a brief and unsatisfying release for the tension that had been building inside me since Tara had left my bed before dawn.
“I have no idea.”
Her last words to me. I’d asked her what happened next, and she’d given me the most honest answer possible. Neither of us knew what the hell we were doing. What we were to each other now or what any of this meant.
I picked up the ball again, twisted my torso, and slammed it down with even more force. Sweat dripped into my eyes, my breath coming in hard gasps. I’d been at this for over an hour, pushing my body to exhaustion, hoping it might quiet my mind.
It wasn’t working.
The memory of her kept intruding. The softness of her skin under my hands. The way she’d looked at me in the darkness, her eyes reflecting the faint glow from the city lights outside my window. The taste of her. The sound of her breath catching when I?—
I hurled the ball against the wall this time, the impact jarring enough to snap me back to the present.
This was pathetic. I was Xander McCrae, for fuck’s sake.
I’d had more women than I could count. Beautiful women.
Famous women. Women whose names and faces blurred together in a meaningless parade of temporary distraction.
So why couldn’t I stop thinking about this one?
I knew why. Because she wasn’t just any woman. She was Tara. Jimmy’s little sister. The girl who’d haunted me since I left Palo Alto. The woman who’d shown up at my door in the middle of the night, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “Let’s fuck.”
God.
I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my face, taking deep breaths to slow my racing heart.
This was supposed to be my day off. A chance to recover, to process everything that had happened since I arrived in Miami.
Instead, I was here, in the team’s training facility on a Saturday afternoon, trying to outrun thoughts of Tara Swanson.
When Leo had left earlier, saying he had errands to run, I’d nearly crawled out of my skin with restlessness. The penthouse felt too empty, too quiet. Every room reminded me of her—of leading her through the living room to my bedroom, of waking up beside her, of watching her slip out before dawn.
So I’d come here, hoping a rigorous workout would center me. Hoping, if I was being honest with myself, that she might be here too. That I might run into her in the hallway, or glimpse her through the glass walls of her office, and get some sign of what last night had meant to her.
But the medical wing was dark and empty when I passed it, and the rest of the facility was nearly deserted on a Saturday afternoon. Just a skeleton security crew and the occasional staff member going about their business.
And me, all alone with my thoughts and a medicine ball. Pathetic.
The sound of the door opening made me turn. Ben Carter, with a gym bag slung over his shoulder, walked in, then stopped short when he saw me.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, already backing toward the door. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
“It’s fine,” I said, gesturing for him to stay. “I was just finishing up.”
He hesitated, then came further into the room. “You sure? I don’t want to interrupt your workout.”
“You’re not,” I assured him, grabbing my water bottle. “Besides, there’s plenty of equipment for both of us.”
Ben nodded, setting his bag down and pulling out a pair of training shoes. “I didn’t expect to see anyone here today,” he said, lacing up his shoes. “Most guys take Saturdays off.”
“I needed to clear my head,” I admitted, not sure why I was telling this to a kid I barely knew.
“Yeah, I get that.” He stood and started a series of stretches. “Sometimes the apartment gets too quiet, you know? Especially when you’re new to a city.”
I nodded, surprised by his perceptiveness.
“You played well yesterday,” I told him, meaning it. “The cross you sent in during the third drill was perfect.”
Ben’s face lit up at the compliment. “Thanks, man. That means a lot, coming from you.”
“What are you working on today?” I asked, changing the subject. I’d never been comfortable with praise, even when it was genuine.
“Just some conditioning,” Ben said. “I want to improve my stamina for the full ninety.”
“Mind if I join you? I could use a workout partner.”
He looked surprised, then pleased. “Yeah, sure. That would be great.”
For the next hour, we moved through a series of exercises together. Sprints on the treadmill. Box jumps. Core work. Throughout it all, our conversation flowed naturally from football to music to favorite places in our respective hometowns.
It was... nice. Uncomplicated. Ben didn’t seem to care about my reputation or my past. He was just a new player who loved the game and was eager to learn.
His enthusiasm was infectious, reminding me of how I’d felt at his age, before the weight of expectation and notoriety had settled on my shoulders.
“So what’s the deal with Mano?” I asked as we took a water break. “He seems to have it out for me.”
Ben’s expression darkened slightly. “Diego’s... territorial. About the team, about his position.” He hesitated. “About Dr. Swanson.”
The mention of Tara sent a jolt through me. “What do you mean?”
Ben looked uncomfortable, clearly regretting bringing it up. “It’s nothing, really. He just... he flirts with her a lot. Gets possessive when other guys talk to her.”
“Are they together?” The question came out sharper than I had intended.
“No,” Ben blurted. “I mean, not that I know of. She always shuts him down. But he doesn’t seem to take the hint.”
I nodded, trying to appear casually interested rather than intensely relieved. “He seems like the type who doesn’t hear ‘no’ very often.”
“He’s got a lot of pride,” Ben agreed. “And a lot of problems.”
Something in his tone caught my attention. “What problems?”
Ben glanced around the empty gym, then lowered his voice. “You didn’t hear this from me, but... he’s got a gambling issue. Serious one. Word is he owes money to some people you don’t want to owe money to.”
That was interesting. Potentially useful information if Diego’s aggression toward me continued to escalate.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
Ben looked nervous. “Just... don’t mention it to anyone, okay? If it got back to management...”
“It won’t,” I assured him. “The secret’s safe with me.”
We finished our workout with a series of cool-down stretches. Then as we were gathering our things to leave, Ben turned to me with an earnest expression.
“Hey, I just wanted to say... I’m glad you’re here. On the team, I mean. I know some of the guys have been giving you a hard time, but they’ll come around. You’re exactly what we need to make a real run at the championship.”
“Thanks, Ben,” I said. “That means a lot.”
He nodded suddenly embarrassed and headed for the door. “See you at practice on Monday!”
I watched him go, feeling a strange mix of emotions. It was nice to know I had at least one ally on the team. But his words also reminded me of the pressure I was under. The expectations. The scrutiny. All of which would only intensify once the season started.
And then there was Tara. My doctor. My one-night stand. My... what? What were we to each other now?
I have no fucking idea.
I grabbed my gym bag and headed for the showers, no closer to an answer than I had been when I arrived.
“This place is incredible,” I said, eyeballing the vibrant chaos of Versailles, Miami’s Cuban food mecca. “How’d you score a table on a Saturday night?”
Leo flashed a grin, looking less twitchy than he had all week. “I have my ways. Plus, the hostess is a fan. I promised her an introduction.”
I glanced over to where the hostess stood, arranging menus at her station. She caught me looking and smiled, giving a little wave.
I immediately looked away.
Fuck .
It wasn’t the first time Leo had hooked me up with a beautiful woman. His talent for social engineering had led to countless hookups over our years together. At any other time, I’d have been grateful for the setup with the gorgeous hostess.
But tonight? I couldn’t summon even a flicker of interest.
“You’re welcome,” Leo said, misreading my silence as appreciation.
“Not tonight, man.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “She’s exactly your type. Tall, blonde, legs for days...”
I took a long swig of water, wishing it was something stronger. Only one woman occupied my thoughts, her dark eyes and stubborn jaw haunting me. The one woman I absolutely couldn’t have. The one who’d left my bed with a whispered goodbye.
“I’m just not in the mood,” I muttered.
Leo studied my face, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. “Oh shit. It’s the doctor, isn’t it? Tara’s got you all twisted up.”
Before I could think of a decent response, our appetizers landed—croquetas and fried plantains. Happy for the save, I attacked the food like I hadn’t eaten in days.
“This is amazing,” I mumbled through a mouthful. “We should eat here every damn night.”
Leo nodded, but his smile looked fake. He just pushed food around his plate.
“What?” I asked.
Leo put down his fork and took a deep breath. “I met with her today.”
“Who?” I halted my next bite of food mid-air.
“I met with Tara,” he said, keeping his voice steady while my face turned hot. “This afternoon. For coffee.”
I stared at him, trying to compute. Leo had gone behind my back to meet Tara. After everything.
“What the fuck, Leo?” I kept my voice down despite wanting to flip the table. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I was worried about you,” he said simply. “Because I needed to understand what was happening between you two.”
“That’s not your call to make,” I snapped. “My relationship with Tara is none of your fucking business.”
“It is when it’s hurting you,” Leo fired back. “When it’s part of this self-destructive bullshit you’ve been pulling for years.”
I wanted to argue but couldn’t. His words hit too close to home. I just glared, waiting.
“I didn’t go there to interfere,” Leo softened his tone. “I went because I couldn’t watch her hurt you over a misunderstanding.”
“What misunderstanding?”
Leo leaned in, dead serious. “She thinks you were driving the car that night, Xander. She thinks you killed her brother driving totally shit-faced.”
The words knocked the air out of me. I couldn’t breathe for a second.
“That’s... that’s not what happened,” I finally croaked, slumping back. If Tara believed I’d killed her brother...
“Oh God,” I whispered, my stomach turning. “All this time, she thought...”
Leo nodded grimly. “That’s why I had to talk to her. To tell her the truth. She’d spent years thinking you were directly responsible for Jimmy’s death.”
My brain scrambled to process this bombshell. Every interaction with Tara since I’d hit Miami took on a new, fucked-up meaning. Her coldness. Her anger. Her control issues.
“Did she believe you?” I asked, dreading the answer.
Leo paused. “I don’t know. She was... rocked. But it’s a lot to take in. To have your understanding of such a monumental event challenged after so many years.”
I nodded, food totally forgotten.
Tara believed I’d been drunk driving, crashed the car, and walked away while Jimmy died. No wonder she hated me. No wonder she’d tracked me, planning her revenge.
And last night... was that part of her plan too? To seduce me, make me vulnerable, all as some twisted payback?
The thought made me want to puke.
“I’m sorry,” Leo said, watching me. “I know this is heavy. But you needed to know.”
I nodded, speechless. My phone buzzed—a momentary escape from my mental shitstorm. I pulled it out.
A text from Tara.
Just a reminder about the art opening tomorrow evening. Here’s the address…
I stared at the message. Hours ago, this would’ve felt promising, her making sure I’d show up. A sign that last night meant something. Now it felt like a bad omen.
The art opening. A public event where I’d have to face her, knowing what I now knew. Knowing all this time she’d been viewing me as her brother’s killer.
“Xander?” Leo broke through my thoughts. “What is it?”
I handed him my phone without a word. He read it, his face grim.
“You don’t have to go,” he said, passing it back. “I can make an excuse. Say you’re sick.”
I shook my head. “No. I have to go.” I needed to talk to her and find out if what Leo told her had changed anything.
“Are you sure that’s smart?” Leo asked, concerned.
“Probably not,” I admitted. “But I ran from her once. I can’t leave things like this.”
Leo nodded. “Want me to come with you?”
I considered it. Having Leo there would be a safety net. But this was my mess to clean up.
“No,” I decided. “This is between Tara and me.”
I texted back a simple reply: I’ll be there.