The Crush List

Chapter Seventeen - More Than Just a Plus-One

The new rental house was sleek and open, all glass and warm wood, tucked against a hillside just outside the filming set. It had that quiet hush Emery loved—natural light filtering through gauzy curtains, the distant hum of waves, and the occasional call of birds outside the balcony.

Cal was off in meetings again, prepping for another interview and script read-through. She’d kissed him goodbye at the door, fingers trailing down his chest as he smoothed back her hair. The way he looked at her that morning—like he never wanted to leave—made her heart flutter in a way she was still getting used to.

But now, she was alone. And surprisingly… she liked it.

With the house to herself, Emery finally pulled out her sketchpad and curled up near the window with her tablet. She let the playlist drift softly from the speakers as she started sketching—a mess of lines at first, but gradually forming shapes: rooftops in the French village, the way Cal looked when he wasn’t being a movie star, just her Cal.

Her phone buzzed across the cushion.

Reid lit up the screen.

She hadn’t heard from her brother in over a week, which wasn’t unusual given his football schedule. Still, it made her smile as she swiped to answer.

“About time,” she teased.

“I could say the same,” Reid said, his deep voice warm. “You famous now, or just busy living with one?”

Emery rolled her eyes. “Definitely not famous. Just… figuring things out.”

Reid didn’t press. He never did. “I’ve got a game today,” he said. “Big one. You should come. Sit front row and remind everyone you’re still the Blake with the better hair.”

She laughed. “Is this your way of asking for moral support?”

“It’s my way of telling you it wouldn’t hurt to be seen. You’ve got your own life, Em. Let people see that. And I’d like it if you were there.”

The words stuck with her even after the call ended.

He was right.

She wasn’t just Cal’s girlfriend, wasn’t just a pretty picture on someone else’s red carpet.

She was Emery Blake. Graduate. Artist. Football player’s little sister. A woman in love—but still her own.

By the time Cal returned late that afternoon, she was already dressed.

A cropped jacket over her fitted jeans, sneakers, light makeup. Her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She looked… like herself.

“I’m going to Reid’s game,” she told Cal as he stepped inside.

He raised an eyebrow, then smiled when he saw her expression. Proud. Determined. Glowing.

“You want me to come?”

She shook her head. “No. You’ve got your thing. This is mine.”

He stepped forward and kissed her cheek. “Go show them who Emery Blake really is.”

And she intended to.

The stadium buzzed with energy—roaring fans, blaring music, the unmistakable smell of concession food that always made her nostalgic. Emery tucked her hair behind her ears as she made her way toward the VIP section Reid had arranged for her. Heads turned as she passed—men, women, teens. Some did a double take. Others whispered.

She felt their eyes, even if she didn’t fully understand why.

Maybe it was the effortless sway of her walk, or the easy way her smile lit up her face when she waved at a kid wearing Reid’s jersey. Maybe it was just the Blake genes—she and Reid both inherited their mother’s striking bone structure and their father’s cool confidence. Or maybe, without realizing it, she was finally beginning to glow with something else: self-assurance.

She didn’t see it, not fully. But others did.

Especially the players warming up on the field.

One tall wide receiver nearly tripped during a drill when his eyes landed on her. Another nudged Reid with a not-so-subtle elbow as Emery slid into her seat.

Reid looked up, spotted her, and grinned wide under his helmet. He jogged over to the sidelines and tossed her a wink and a thumbs up.

She blew him a kiss and laughed.

It felt good—being somewhere that wasn’t about press photos or dinner parties or calculated appearances. This was Reid’s world, her world too once, and it grounded her.

During halftime, she found herself approached by a young sports journalist snapping candid photos for a local magazine.

“You’re Emery Blake, right?” the woman asked. “Reid’s sister? You were just in Paris, weren’t you?”

Emery smiled politely, unsure how much to give.

“Just visiting,” she said, smooth and warm.

The woman nodded. “You looked stunning. There’s a shot of you two on the balcony that’s everywhere right now.”

So it had begun. The press trail.

Still, Emery didn’t shrink. She nodded, thanked the woman, and let herself enjoy the second half of the game.

By the end of it, Reid scored a touchdown and pointed at her in the stands.

Emery stood up and clapped wildly, cheeks flushed with pride.

She was more than Cal’s girlfriend. More than Reid’s sister. She was her.

And the world was finally seeing it.

The locker room smelled of sweat, adrenaline, and victory. Emery stood just outside, leaning casually against the wall while the team whooped and hollered from inside. She could hear Reid’s unmistakable laugh rise above the rest—deep, carefree, the kind he only had after a big win.

When the door opened and he stepped out, his damp hair pushed back, jersey peeled halfway off, he spotted her instantly.

“There she is!” Reid grinned, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “Our lucky charm.”

Emery laughed as he ruffled her hair like he used to when they were younger. “You were the one scoring touchdowns, not me.”

“Yeah, but you showing up? That mattered,” he said sincerely, his hand falling back to his side. “Thanks for coming, Em.”

Before she could respond, one of Reid’s teammates leaned out the locker room door.

“Blake! We’re heading to Murphy’s for drinks. Bring your sister!”

Reid looked at her with raised eyebrows. “You in?”

She hesitated for a second. It had been a long day, and her usual instinct would’ve been to politely decline, crawl into comfy clothes, and text Cal about her evening. But the buzz of the stadium was still in her veins. She was glowing from being around her brother, from being somewhere familiar—but also new.

“Sure,” she said with a small grin. “Why not?”

Reid grinned like it was the right answer.

The local bar was already buzzing when they arrived. The team had claimed a large booth in the back, pitchers of beer and baskets of wings covering the table. Emery slid in next to Reid and was quickly handed a chilled cocktail—her favorite, gin and tonic. She blinked in surprise.

“Small town perks,” Reid said with a grin. “They still remember what you like.”

The conversation flowed easily. The team welcomed her in with friendly jokes and warm teasing. One of the linebackers kept trying to impress her with stories, while another told her Reid never shut up about his “genius little sister.”

It felt good. Light. Normal.

No flashing cameras. No press statements.

Just laughter, music, and clinking glasses.

Reid nudged her halfway through the night. “You seem happier,” he said, not quite a question.

Emery looked down into her glass, then back at him with a quiet smile. “I think I am.”

“You like him?” he asked. “Cal?”

She didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I do.”

Reid nodded slowly. “Then just don’t let the noise mess with your head. You deserve good things, Em. Even if they come wrapped in Hollywood chaos.”

She laughed softly. “Spoken like a true protective brother.”

“You know it.”

Their glasses clinked.

And for the first time in a long time, Emery felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.

Emery lingered a little longer than expected. The laughter was contagious, the stories exaggerated and hilarious, and it was the first time in a long time that she’d felt like just Emery—not Cal Donovan’s girlfriend, not the girl on the gossip blogs, but herself. She drank cocktails that came too sweet and danced with Reid’s teammates when a song from college came on. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, her stomach from laughing.

By the time she hugged Reid goodbye in the parking lot, her phone buzzed.

Cal: Miss you. The bed’s too big without you.

She smiled down at the screen before looking up at her brother.

“I’m heading out,” she said, wrapping her arms around Reid.

He squeezed her tight. “Tell him thanks. For taking care of you. But if he ever doesn’t...”

“I know, you’ll break his jaw.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

The car ride home was quiet and warm. Emery rested her head against the window, replaying the night in her mind. The normalcy of it had grounded her—but the thought of Cal waiting for her now, at home, brought a different kind of thrill to her chest.

When she stepped into the rental house, the lights were low, the hum of soft music coming from the living room. Cal stood in the doorway, shirt untucked, hair messy from running his hands through it, a book half-forgotten in his hand.

His eyes lit up when he saw her.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured.

Emery crossed the space quickly and threw her arms around him. He dropped the book without a second thought and wrapped her up, pressing his lips into her temple.

“You smell like gin and bad decisions,” he teased.

“Maybe just one or two,” she laughed, leaning back to look up at him.

“Did you have fun?”

“I did,” she said. “But I missed you the whole time.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve shown up, crashed the party, and stolen you away.”

“You’re lucky my brother likes you,” she teased. “It was a good night. I felt like myself again. Not...the version people think I’m supposed to be.”

Cal’s expression softened. He touched her cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s all I want, Em. For you to feel like yourself. Wherever you are.”

She kissed him then, slow and certain, and whispered, “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

He smiled against her lips. “Good. Now let me show you how much I missed you.”

And he did—tenderly, with the patience and passion of a man who didn’t need grand gestures to prove he cared. Just the quiet certainty of coming home.