Chapter 10
Mars
The birds woke me before my alarm did.
Soft, distant chirping that filtered in through the slight crack in the balcony doors. For a moment, I didn’t move. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the day sitting quietly on my chest.
Beside me, Nia was still asleep. One arm thrown over her head, breathing deep and even like nothing in the world required her attention yet.
I checked the time.
7:58.
We didn’t have to leave for hours, but there was no way I was going back to sleep.
I slid carefully out of bed, moving slow enough not to disturb her, and padded into the kitchen. The floors were cool under my feet. The city outside was already humming, low and steady.
I brewed two cups of dark coffee. Strong. No sugar.
I carried one back into the bedroom and set it quietly on the nightstand on Nia’s side, knowing she’d smell it before she fully woke up.
Then I stepped onto the balcony.
The morning breeze was sweet and clean, brushing against my skin gently. I had wrapped my hair the night before to preserve the silk press, the scarf neat and secure around my head.
Houston stretched out below me. Calm for now.
I rested my forearms against the railing.
This is temporary.
I let the thought settle.
Today would be loud. Cameras. Commentary. Speculation. But it would pass. Everything passes.
Tomorrow the city would find something else to talk about.
My life would return to its rhythm. My couch. My laptop. My anonymity.
I closed my eyes briefly.
You know how to move through rooms.
You’ve done harder things.
I exhaled and went back inside.
I called Cal, and he answered on the second ring.
“You up?”
“Obviously.”
He laughed lightly.
“How you feeling?”
“Alive,” I said, a trace of humor in my voice.
“Do you want to ride with us?” I asked.
“Me and Nia.”
“I’ll meet you there,” he said without hesitation.
“I’ve got to get to the studio early anyway.”
He paused, his tone shifting to something softer, more protective.
“You ready for people to know that you’re my sister?”
I leaned against the kitchen counter, looking down at my feet.
“It was going to come out eventually,” I said.
“Might as well be now.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
There was no fear left in my voice, just absolute acceptance.
He was quiet for a moment.
“I’m proud of you, Mars.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late.”
I smiled despite myself.
“See you there,” he added.
“See you.”
We hung up, and I made my way to the shower.
The hot water gratefully helped wash away the last remnants of sleep.
When I stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel, the apartment felt distinctly lighter.
Nia was awake now, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows with her coffee mug, staring out at the hazy morning skyline.
She turned when she heard the bathroom door click open.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Good,” I said honestly.
And I had, much better than I had any right to expect.
She nodded once, satisfied, and took another sip.
We moved quietly around the apartment after that.
There were no last-minute anxiety spirals or frantic second-guesses.
It was just two best friends getting ready together, a comfortable routine we’d been practicing since we were kids.
I chose the jean shorts first. They were fitted perfectly at the waist, hugging my hips without trying too hard.
An oversized vintage tee came next. Soft cotton, slightly worn. I tied it loosely at the back so it showed just a sliver of my lower back when I moved.
The blue semi shiny printed python padlock pointy naked Tom Ford heels waited by the door. They showed off my freshly pedicured toes in a way that felt intentional without being loud.
Astral Blue Prada mini Saffiano leather bag. Small. Sharp. Clean.
I unwrapped my hair and let the silk press fall down my back. Sleek. Glossy. It moved when I did.
Light makeup. Nothing heavy. Just enough to even everything out.
The Cartier C Decor 24K Gold Plated metal rimless butterfly sunglasses went on last.
I stepped back from the mirror.
Did a slow once over.
Damn.
My thick thighs filled the shorts exactly the way they were supposed to. Waist small. Legs strong. Everything balanced.
Behind me, Nia let out a low whistle.
“I almost forgot how good you clean up.”
I glanced at her reflection.
She was in black leather pants and a white classic crop beater, the fabric hugging her frame without apology. The cutest ankle strap kitten heels finished it off. Her curls were big and defined, freshly colored, framing her face perfectly.
"You look damn good," I said back.
"Why, thank you."
Before we headed out, I paused by the mirror one last time.
Not to change anything. Just to look.
I gave myself a small nod.
Good.
In the bedroom, Atlas lifted his head from the foot of the bed, unimpressed as always.
I reached for my favorite perfume on the dresser, gave a light mist at my wrists and behind my ears, then one soft spray into the air and stepped through it.
Just enough.
I walked over to Atlas and scratched the top of his head.
“Behave,” I told him.
He blinked slowly, which I chose to take as agreement.
Nia called from the living room, “You ready?"
“I’m coming.”
I grabbed my keys, took one last glance around the penthouse, and then we stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind us.
The city outside had fully woken up now.
And for the first time since this started, I didn’t feel like I was bracing.
I felt ready.
I decided to drive myself, but not because I didn’t trust him, but because I trusted me.
If I needed to leave, I could. If it felt like too much, I’d have my own wheel, my own exit.
Control was comfort.
Nia slid into the passenger seat and immediately connected her phone.
“You ready,” she asked as the engine hummed to life.
“As I’ll ever be.”
We didn’t blast music. Just something smooth. Something familiar. The kind of playlist that feels like armor.
Halfway there, Nia handed me her pen.
“One puff,” she said.
“I don’t need it.”
She raised a brow.
I took one anyway.
The nerves weren’t overwhelming. Surprisingly, I felt steady. Focused. Almost eager to just get it over with.
We merged into the stadium traffic.
NRG Stadium rose ahead of us, massive and structured against the sky.
I followed the directions Jalen had texted earlier.
Lot Blue VIP Entrance. Private parking access.
Security directed us toward a gated area reserved for players, family, and credentialed personnel. Armed guards. Digital scanners. Calm, controlled movement.
I rolled the window down and gave my name.
The guard checked a list on his tablet.
“Ms. Sinclair, you’re clear. Suite access.”
He handed me a parking pass and acknowledging nod.
We pulled into the reserved section, surrounded by luxury SUVs and blacked-out sedans.
I cut the engine.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Nia looked at me.
“You ready.”
I adjusted my sunglasses.
“Let’s go.”
We stepped out.
Heels steady. Heads high.
No one paid us special attention. Not yet. With tinted Cartier lenses shielding half my face, I was just another well-dressed guest.
We entered through the VIP Player Family Entrance, separate from general admission. Climate-controlled corridor. Staff scanning credentials. Subtle but unmistakable exclusivity.
A stadium liaison greeted us.
“Ms. Sinclair? Mr. Carter asked that you be escorted field side before warmups.”
Of course he did.
We followed her down the tunnel.
The sound hit first.
Music echoing. Cleats against concrete. The low roar of early crowd noise building.
Then the field opened up in front of us.
Bright green. Endless seats rising upward. Massive screens flickering overhead.
My breath caught for just a second.
This was loud.
This was big.
On the sideline, I spotted Cal first. Talking animatedly to Jalen and another teammate while they were warming up. Helmets tucked under arms. Shoulders broad under tight white and navy uniforms.
As the teammate walked off toward drills, Cal looked up.
He saw me.
His grin widened instantly.
He walked over, hugged me tight, then leaned back to look at me properly.
“You look great sis!” he shouted.
“Thanks. I replied.
Nia drifted toward him, sliding into conversation easily.
That left me.
And him.
Jalen turned fully toward me.
His eyes widened just slightly.
Slowly, deliberately, his gaze moved from my face down to my legs. He didn’t linger disrespectfully. Just appreciated.
When his eyes returned to mine, something in them shifted.
He stepped closer.
Not rushed or performative.
Close enough that I could smell his cologne under the clean scent of stadium air.
“You look amazing,” he murmured near my ear.
Heat bloomed across my skin as his hand drifter toward the small of my back.
I smiled, lifting my chin slightly.
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I replied, gesturing lightly toward his uniform stretched tight across his chest and arms.
He laughed.
His fingers reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from my cheek, the movement instinctive.
Then he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss there.
It should have startled me.
It didn’t.
Without thinking too hard about it, I rose slightly onto my toes, closing the small space between us, and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.
Not long. Just enough.
“Good luck,” I whispered.
He didn’t move for half a second.
Just stood there, a small smirk pulling at his mouth, eyes bright.
None of it felt rehearsed. It felt natural.
Like something we already knew how to speak.
Behind us, the stadium noise began to swell.
Game time was coming.
And somehow, I wasn’t nervous anymore.
They led us to the lower bowl family section first.
Not quite the open public stands. Not fully enclosed either. A controlled area just behind the bench line, separated by a short barrier and security detail. Close enough to feel the field. Far enough to stay managed.
I understood immediately why players’ families stood here.
Cal leaned his forearms on the railing like he’d done it a hundred times. Nia stood beside him, sunglasses on, posture relaxed but aware.
I took my place between them.