Chapter Five
Riley
After brushing my teeth in the bathroom, I stand outside Travis’s bedroom door with my hand hovering over the doorknob like it might burn me.
This is ridiculous. I’m a thirty-five-year-old woman.
I shared living spaces with roommates in college.
I’ve stayed in hostels with complete strangers.
Granted, none of them were six-foot-four linebackers with annoyingly perfect McDreamy-worthy hair, but still.
I can handle sharing a room with Travis Steelbird for a few days.
Besides, I can’t stay out in this hallway forever doing my usual portion of overthinking. I take a deep breath, plaster on a confident smile, and head inside.
Travis is sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. He looks up when I enter, and for a second, we just stare at each other like we’re both only now realizing this is going to happen. We’ll be spending the next few nights in the same bedroom.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.” I clutch my toiletry bag like it’s a life preserver.
“Please make yourself at home. I’m not going to bite.”
“That’s good. I don’t think I got my rabies shot before coming here,” I say and place my toiletry bag down.
He laughs and shakes his head.
I nod toward his phone. “What are you doing? Checking messages from all the women who drool over you?”
“No, my DMs aren’t open to strangers. I was just reading an email from my sports agent.”
“Wow, your agent. It sounds so grown-up.”
“That’s because we are,” he says with a grin.
“I know, but when did that happen? Like, Beau even has a kid. I’m an aunt.”
Travis nods. “I know, right? I’m an uncle too. It’s a shame Beau’s kid couldn’t be here for the holidays, though.”
I pull a face. “Yeah, his ex took her.”
Travis laughs. “You make it sound like she kidnapped her.”
“Well, she demanded to have her for their first Christmas as divorced parents. Which, if you ask me, is totally unfair. She was the one who broke things off, not Beau.”
“How’s he holding up? He doesn’t talk about it with me,” Travis says.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. The divorce really did a number on him. I think being here helps, though. His being alone in that big house would’ve been worse.”
“I feel for him. Seriously. He deserves to be happy. And I also feel bad for not being here enough. I knew going in that a football career asks a lot of sacrifices, but… I guess the reality of it doesn’t sink in until you’re dab smack in the middle of it, you know?”
“Do you regret it? The football career?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not the career itself, but sometimes I regret what it cost me. Like losing touch with people who mattered.”
He looks me square in the eye when he utters those words, and I can’t help but feel flustered.
“I get it. We all got busy,” I say.
“I want to make the most of the time we have. I have to leave on the twenty-seventh,” he says.
The twenty-seventh. That’s only a few days after Christmas. My stomach sinks with disappointment, something I have no right to feel. It’s not like I’m his girlfriend. His leaving shouldn’t affect me like this.
“That soon?” I ask.
“Playoffs are coming up. I need to get back for training. But until then, let’s actually spend time together. Like old times. We’ve spent way too much time apart already.”
“I’d like that,” I admit.
“Good. Want to go ice skating tomorrow? They set up that rink at the town’s Christmas market like they do every year. What do you say?”
I should say no. I should protect myself, keep some distance, and remember that he has a girlfriend. And I’m what? An old friend? The girl next door, who clearly never got over her childhood crush?
But instead, I say, “Yeah. I’d love to.”
“Perfect. It’s a date then. I mean, not a date date. Just, you know, ice skating. As friends.”
“Of course. As friends.”
I get under the covers, and Travis does the same.
“Fair warning, though, it’s possible your picture will get taken.”
“You think the paparazzi followed you here? To the mountains of Montana?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Nothing surprises me these days.”
“What’s it like? Being famous? Having women swoon over you all the time. Getting recognized everywhere you go. It must be pretty amazing.”
Travis lets out a hollow laugh. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Not like everyone thinks.”
“Come on. You’re telling me you don’t enjoy the attention? The adoration? The success?”
“The attention gets old fast, trust me.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I notice how exhausted he looks.
“You can’t go anywhere without someone wanting a photo or an autograph.
And don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the fans, I really am.
But sometimes you just want to grab coffee with someone without it turning into a whole thing, you know? ”
“I guess I never thought about it like that.”
“And the women… Most of them don’t actually care about me.
They care about Travis Steelbird, the NFL player.
The guy they see in magazines or on TV. They don’t know the real me.
Not like…” He shakes his head. “Honestly? I’d give it all up for real love.
For someone who sees me, not the fame or the money or the image. ”
I frown. “What do you mean? You have Sienna.”
Something flickers across his face, and he nods. “Right. Yeah. Sienna.”
The way it comes out feels wrong. There’s no warmth when he talks about her.
Just this flat, almost resigned tone that doesn’t match someone talking about their girlfriend.
And how could someone forget they even have a girlfriend?
Because that’s what it sounded like when he talked about wanting real love.
Like I had to remind him that he’s already in a relationship.
Then again, I could be reading way too much into it. Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see because the alternative—that he’s genuinely happy with his perfect, beautiful girlfriend—is too painful to accept. Yeah, that’s definitely it.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by a muffled thump followed by a string of notes from downstairs. It sounds like a cat being strangled, but I’m pretty sure the Steelbirds don’t have a cat.
Travis groans. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, no, what?”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “That’s probably Grandma practicing for the annual talent night.”
I blink. “You guys have a talent night?”
“Every Christmas Eve. Mandatory participation. No one survives unscathed.”
“Please tell me you’re joking. And that mandatory doesn’t apply to me.”
He shakes his head. “If I have to do it, you do too. Sorry, house rules. We’ll both have to embarrass ourselves.”
“But I don’t have a bit. Please, I’ll just stand in the corner and provide moral support.”
He grins. “Or we could do something together.”
“Together? You and me?”
“Sure, why not?” he asks like it’s no big deal.
“I’m not dancing, though. That’s a hard no from me,” I say.
“What about singing then?”
I throw a pillow at him. “Stop it. You know I can’t sing. Unless the grand prize is eternal humiliation, I don’t think I can do it.”
“The grand prize is a gift certificate for Summit Sweets,” he says.
“Hmm. Amelia’s cinnamon rolls are the best.”
“I know, right? So, what do you say?”
I yawn. “That we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, Riley. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Travis,” I say and turn off the light.
It doesn’t take long before his breathing slows, and he’s asleep. Me, on the other hand? I’m wide awake, too excited about all the time I get to spend with Travis this week.
I turn to him. The curtains don’t block out all the moonlight, so I can make out the shape of him, the hair that has fallen over his face. If things were different, I’d brush it from his face. Maybe he’d then stir in his sleep and put his arms around me, pulling me close with a happy sigh.
I wish I still believed in Santa, so I could ask him to make this happen.
Sorry for Sienna, but she’d find someone else.
As for me? I probably wouldn’t. I’m still not over Travis Steelbird, no matter how much I convinced myself I was.