Chapter 7

Erin tugged her coat tighter around her as she followed Trudy into an upscale boutique in downtown Chicago. It wasn't even noon, and she was already regretting every decision that had led her here. Shopping with Trudy Platt wasn't on her Monday agenda, but the older woman had somehow managed to drag her out of bed and into the cold with promises of "finding the perfect outfit."

"You're presenting an award," Trudy said over her shoulder as they stepped inside, her sharp eyes scanning the rows of elegant evening gowns. "You're not walking in there looking like a sales rack reject."

"I can pick out my own dress," Erin muttered, pulling her phone out to distract herself from the price tags she could already feel screaming at her.

Trudy shot her a look. "Oh, sure. And end up in some moody black number that makes you look like you're attending a funeral instead of one of the most glamorous nights in football. Not happening, sweetheart."

Erin sighed and sank onto one of the velvet couches near the fitting rooms, already scrolling to Kim's contact. If anyone would understand her current spiral, it was Kim. She hit the call button and held the phone to her ear.

Kim picked up on the second ring. "Lindsay! To what do I owe the honor of your early-morning meltdown?"

"Trudy roped me into shopping for this… thing," Erin said, lowering her voice as Trudy disappeared into the racks of dresses. "The All-Star Party."

"Right," Kim said, the smirk practically audible. "The one where you're a guest and a presenter. Big deal, huh?"

"Don't remind me." Erin groaned, leaning back against the couch. "I didn't even want to go, let alone stand up there in front of a room full of people. And it's not just any people—it's the kind that get their names written in bold letters on magazine covers."

"Well, you're one of those people," Kim pointed out. "Bestselling author, remember? People love you."

"They love the idea of me," Erin countered. "The one who shows up, gives a polished little speech, and vanishes. Not the one who has to stand there, talk into a microphone, and hope she doesn't trip on her heels."

Kim laughed. "Oh, come on, you'll be fine. Just think of it like a book signing, except with fancier clothes and more cameras."

"Super comforting, Kim. Thanks."

Before Kim could respond, Trudy reappeared, holding up a sleek, floor-length gown in a deep emerald green. She gave Erin a pointed look, then held the dress up against her.

"What about this?" Trudy asked, ignoring Erin's sour expression.

Erin pulled the phone away for a moment. "I'm not wearing that. It's too… shiny."

"Shiny is the point," Trudy shot back, tossing the dress over her arm and heading back toward the racks. "You're supposed to stand out, not blend into the wallpaper."

As Trudy wandered off again, Erin brought the phone back to her ear. "See what I'm dealing with?"

Kim snorted. "Sounds like Trudy's got the right idea. Maybe you should let her take over. She's got an eye for these things."

"I don't need an eye for anything," Erin muttered. "I need an escape plan."

Kim's voice softened. "Erin, it's just one night. You'll survive. And hey, maybe it'll even be fun. Fancy food, free drinks, hot athletes everywhere…"

Erin froze, her heart skipping a beat. "Right. Athletes."

"What?" Kim asked, picking up on the sudden change in Erin's tone.

"Nothing." Erin forced a laugh, but her mind was already racing. Jay Halstead. There was no way he wouldn't be there. This was his world, after all.

Kim wasn't buying it. "Erin, what aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing!" Erin said quickly, standing up and pacing a few steps. "I just… It's going to be awkward, okay? I don't know anyone there, and I'm not exactly great at making small talk."

Kim hummed thoughtfully. "Sure, if that's what's got you worked up. But if you're trying to avoid someone, you might want to reconsider showing up at all."

Erin swallowed hard, her mind flashing back to the night of the gala—the way Jay's eyes had lingered on hers, the easy banter that had felt almost too natural. And then, the radio silence.

No texts. No calls. Nothing.

Not that she'd expected anything, but still…

"Not avoiding anyone," Erin lied, hoping Kim wouldn't press further.

Before Kim could reply, Trudy returned with another armful of dresses, this time in a variety of jewel tones. "Alright, time to try these on. And don't even think about saying no, Lindsay."

Erin sighed into the phone. "Kill me now."

Kim laughed. "Good luck, babe. And don't trip in the dressing room."

Erin hung up, slipping the phone into her pocket as Trudy shoved a sapphire-blue dress into her hands. She knew there was no getting out of this.

As she stepped into the fitting room, her mind wandered back to the party—and to the one person she hoped she wouldn't run into, even though a small part of her secretly wished she would.

Because if Jay Halstead was there, she'd have to face him. And the thought of that was somehow more terrifying than standing in front of a room full of strangers.

Erin stared at the lineup of dresses hanging in the fitting room with the kind of dread usually reserved for dentist visits. Four dresses. Four disasters waiting to happen.

"Why are there so many?" she called out, pulling the curtain halfway open to glare at Trudy, who was perched on a nearby couch with her arms crossed.

"Because you're indecisive and have terrible taste," Trudy replied matter-of-factly. "Now stop stalling and start trying them on. We don't have all day."

Erin sighed, reluctantly pulling the curtain shut. She reached for the first dress—the emerald green one Trudy had shoved at her earlier. It was sleek and simple, with a high slit that made her groan just looking at it.

She slipped it on and hesitated for a moment before stepping out.

Trudy looked up, immediately narrowing her eyes. "Turn around."

Erin gave a half-hearted spin, feeling like a mannequin on display. "Well?"

Trudy tilted her head, squinting. "It's nice. Very elegant. But you're not walking a red carpet—you're presenting. It needs more… oomph."

"Oomph?" Erin echoed, retreating back into the fitting room. "Pretty sure that's not a fashion term."

"It is now," Trudy called back. "Next!"

Erin sighed again, slipping out of the green dress and grabbing the burgundy one. This one was more structured, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and intricate beading. She stepped into it reluctantly and tugged the zipper up, already bracing for Trudy's critique.

When she stepped out, Trudy's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere."

Erin looked down at herself, smoothing the fabric over her hips. "It's… fine, I guess."

"Fine?" Trudy scoffed. "It's stunning. You look like you belong on stage—which, by the way, you will be."

Erin grimaced. "Can we not remind me of that every five seconds?"

Trudy waved her off. "Alright, try the blue one next. I want to see if it's better than this."

Back in the fitting room, Erin peeled off the burgundy dress and reached for the sapphire-blue one. It was flowy and romantic, with a plunging neckline that made her hesitate for a second before slipping it on.

When she stepped out, Trudy immediately shook her head.

"Too safe," she declared. "Pretty, but not memorable."

Erin looked at herself in the mirror, biting back a sigh. She had to admit Trudy wasn't wrong. The dress was nice, but it didn't feel right for the occasion—or for her.

"Alright, last one," Trudy said, gesturing toward the fitting room.

Erin grabbed the bronze dress with a mix of curiosity and dread. It was the most daring of the bunch, with a shimmery fabric that caught the light and a dramatic open back.

When she stepped out this time, Trudy's jaw actually dropped a little.

"Now that's a dress," Trudy said, standing up to circle Erin like a hawk. "Bold, but classy. Sophisticated, but not boring. It's perfect."

Erin turned to the mirror, her eyes widening slightly. The bronze color brought out the warmth in her complexion, and the silhouette was surprisingly flattering. For the first time all day, she didn't feel like a kid playing dress-up.

"I don't know…" Erin said, her voice trailing off.

Trudy crossed her arms. "What don't you know? You look amazing. This is the one."

"It's a little much, isn't it?" Erin tried, half-hoping Trudy would relent.

"Much? You're presenting at the All-Star Party, not some PTA meeting. You need to stand out, Lindsay. This is how you do it.Plus, have I told you who's gonna be there ?"

"People who don't care about my dress?"

"Funny.But no,Avery Jeggins it's invited too."

"What?And you told me just now?" Erin said freaking out. Avery Jeggins, the organiser and president of the American Books foundation and obviously, all the awards that come with it.

"You would've freaked out even more.But you keep mailing a scene so get yourself together and take the dress."

Erin stared at herself in the mirror for a moment longer before finally sighing in defeat. "Fine. I'll take it."

"Smart choice," Trudy said, already signaling for the sales associate to come over.

As the associate took the dress back to wrap it up, Erin sank onto the couch, feeling both relieved and exhausted.

"Well," Trudy said, grabbing her bag and standing up. "Now that we've got that settled, let's get you some shoes. And maybe a little jewelry. You need the whole package."

Erin groaned, following her out of the store. She didn't know what she hated more: the thought of the party or the fact that Trudy was right—she did need to stand out.

And with any luck, standing out wouldn't mean running into Jay Halstead.

Jay was halfway through his post-workout routine, sweat dripping down his back as he worked the punching bag, when the persistent pounding on his door interrupted his rhythm. He landed one last jab before pulling off his gloves with a growl. Whoever it was better have a good reason.

Grabbing a towel, he wiped his face and yanked the door open. "Will?"

Will stood there, arms crossed, looking every bit like a man on a mission. "Nice of you to answer. I was about to call SWAT."

Jay rolled his eyes and stepped aside. "What do you want?"

Will didn't wait for an invitation, brushing past Jay into the penthouse. "We need to talk."

Jay sighed, shutting the door and following him inside. "It's always we with you. What's this 'we' nonsense? You've got something to say—say it."

Will turned to face him in the middle of the living room, raising an eyebrow. "Fine. Mouse."

Jay froze for a fraction of a second before masking it with a casual shrug. "What about him?"

"He mentioned you came into his restaurant the other night."

Jay walked past him into the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle. "So what? I'm not allowed to eat now?"

"Not with company," Will shot back, his tone heavy with implication.

Jay smirked, twisting the cap off his water. "Didn't know you and Mouse were running a background check on my dining habits."

"It's not about your dining habits," Will said, his frustration clear. "It's about the fact that Mouse wouldn't tell me who she was. And when Mouse doesn't want to talk, it means trouble."

Jay snorted. "You're jumping to conclusions again. Didn't you learn anything in med school about not diagnosing without all the facts?"

Will wasn't having it. "If you're so confident she's not bad news, then tell me who she is."

Jay leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip of his water, clearly stalling. "She's no one."

"'No one' doesn't have you looking like you've been hit by a truck," Will said, crossing his arms. "And you're deflecting. Badly."

"I'm not deflecting," Jay said, scowling. "I just don't think this is any of your business."

"Wrong," Will countered. "You're my brother. If you're about to blow up your life—or let someone else do it—I get to intervene."

Jay let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You're being dramatic."

"Am I?" Will pressed, stepping closer. "Because the last time you acted like this, you got deployed three weeks after Mom's funeral without telling anyone. So yeah, I'd say I've earned the right to ask questions."

That hit harder than Jay wanted to admit. He clenched his jaw, looking away. "This isn't like that."

"Then explain," Will said, his voice softer now but no less insistent.

Jay stayed silent, gripping the bottle in his hand like it might break.

"C'mon, Jay," Will said, his tone bordering on teasing. "It's not that hard. Just spit it out. Is she a groupie? A reporter? Some social media influencer looking to sell detox teas?"

Jay couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, sharp and involuntary. "No."

"Then what?" Will pressed. "Mouse won't tell me anything, and you're acting like you've been caught smuggling something illegal. Who is she?"

Jay rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. "She's a writer, okay? A best-selling author. And no, she's not bad news."

Will blinked, taken aback. "Wait. That's it? She's a writer?"

"Yes," Jay snapped, already regretting saying anything.

Will stared at him for a moment before a slow grin spread across his face. "This is hilarious."

"How is this hilarious?" Jay asked, scowling.

"Because you look like you've been losing sleep over a writer," Will said, laughing now. "What's her deal? She write scathing exposés on athletes? Got a book coming out about the dark underbelly of the NFL?"

Jay rolled his eyes, pushing off the counter. "No. She writes novels, genius. Fiction. Nothing to do with me or football."

"Then why are you so worked up?" Will asked, his grin fading into curiosity. "If she's not bad news and she's not out to get you, what's the problem?"

Jay hesitated, pacing the length of the living room. "The problem is that she's different, okay? And I don't know what to do with that."

Will frowned, leaning against the counter. "Different how?"

"She's smart," Jay said, his voice quieter now. "Like, really smart. And she doesn't put up with my crap. She's… complicated. And I don't know what this is, or if it even is anything, but it's messing with my head."

Will tilted his head, studying his brother. "So let me get this straight. You're worked up because for the first time in forever, you're interested in someone who might actually challenge you?"

Jay glared at him. "That's not what I said."

"Pretty much is," Will said with a smirk. "You're overthinking this, Jay. Maybe it's not that complicated. Maybe you just like her."

Jay shook his head, his frustration mounting. "It's not that simple."

"Sure it is," Will said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You like her. You're scared to admit it. And instead of doing anything about it, you're spiraling. Classic Jay."

Jay glared at him again, but there was no real heat behind it. "You done?"

"Not even close," Will said, grinning. "But I'll let you off the hook for now. Just… don't screw this up before it starts, okay? It sounds like she might actually be worth the headache."

Jay didn't respond, watching as Will headed for the fridge.

"Now," Will said, rummaging inside, "do you have anything in here that isn't expired, or are you living on takeout again?"

Jay rolled his eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Help yourself, there are some protein bars you love so much."

Will's laugh echoed through the apartment, but Jay couldn't shake the lingering weight of their conversation—or the nagging truth buried in his brother's words.

Chapter: Torn Threads

Jay watched as Will speared the last slice of pizza with a triumphant grin, clearly pleased with himself. He leaned back in Jay's chair, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had just barged in and interrogated him about his personal life.

"Good talk, little brother," Will said, crumpling his napkin and tossing it onto the plate. "You're welcome, by the way."

Jay rolled his eyes, slouching further into the couch. "Yeah, thanks for the unsolicited therapy session. Really life-changing."

"Hey, someone's gotta do it. God knows you're not going to figure this stuff out on your own." Will stood, grabbing the empty plate and carrying it to the sink. He turned back, smirking. "And don't think I missed how you conveniently dodged answering half my questions. Classic Jay move."

"Classic Will, thinking he's a genius," Jay shot back, but there was no real bite in his voice.

Will grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. "Alright, I'll leave you to it. Just… don't overthink this, okay? Whoever this chick is, if she's worth you sitting around brooding like some lovesick teenager, then she's probably worth a shot."

Jay didn't respond, just waved Will off as he let himself out. The apartment fell silent again, but the conversation lingered, each of Will's words digging deeper into the cracks Jay had been trying to patch up.

He stared at the coffee table, where his phone lay face down next to an empty beer bottle. He wasn't brooding. He wasn't.

Still, the quiet wasn't doing him any favors. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the phone and started scrolling through Instagram. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for—something to distract him, maybe, or just proof that the world was still spinning outside of his head.

And then he saw it.

Erin's picture.

It was the kind of photo that stopped you in your tracks. Not because it was glamorous or posed, but because it felt real. She was crouched on the grass, her smile wide and genuine as she held a little girl in her arms. Around her, kids were laughing, playing, some looking up at her like she hung the moon.

Jay stared at the screen, the rest of the world fading away. The caption read: "Spent the day visiting one of my favorite shelters. These kids remind me every day why kindness matters."

He didn't even realize he was smiling until his reflection on the darkened screen showed it back to him. She looked so… different from the chaos that surrounded his life. Different from anything he'd ever known.

Will's words echoed in his mind: "If she's worth you sitting around brooding…"

Jay leaned back, his thumb hovering over the screen. He wanted to say something. Hell, he wanted to do something. But what could he even say? What could he offer someone like her, who seemed to move through the world with purpose and grace while he stumbled his way through?

"Way too much for you," he muttered, tossing the phone onto the coffee table. The sound of it hitting the wood was sharper than he intended, but he didn't care.

Still, the image stayed with him. Her smile. The way she was surrounded by kids who clearly adored her.

And then the thoughts crept in, the ones he'd been trying to avoid since he first met her. She wasn't just some random woman he'd bumped into. She wasn't a distraction or a fling.

But what if that made it worse? What if he reached out and ruined it?

He grabbed the phone again, scrolling back to the picture. His thumb hovered over the message button, the cursor blinking in the empty text field like it was mocking him.

He typed out: "That's really great what you're doing. Those kids are lucky to have you."

Then he deleted it.

He typed another: "You're incredible. Just thought you should know."

Backspaced again.

Jay let out a frustrated groan, dropping the phone onto the couch and rubbing his hands over his face. He wasn't the kind of guy who overanalyzed things, but with Erin… it felt different. She made him want to be different.

But wanting wasn't enough. Not for someone like her.

As he leaned back, the phone buzzed with a new notification, startling him. He glanced at it, half-hoping it was her—but it wasn't. Just another teammate tagging him in some dumb post.

Jay sighed, his gaze drifting back to the coffee table. Erin Lindsay was a world away from him, in more ways than one. And maybe that was exactly where she was meant to be.