Chapter Two
Travis
Of all the people I expected to see on my parents’ doorstep today, Riley Quinn wasn’t one of them.
Not that it should be a surprise. She lives next door after all.
Or used to anyway, back when we were both younger.
Still, I didn’t think she’d be the first person I’d see after arriving back in Maplewood Springs.
Yet here she is, standing in our entryway with snowflakes melting on her knitted hat. How much time has passed since we last saw each other? Four years? Five?
“So, towels?” Riley prompts, and I realize I’ve been standing here like an idiot, staring at her.
“Right. Towels. For the plumbing disaster at your parents’ house.” I set my mug down on the hallway table and gesture toward the stairs. “Mom keeps extras in the linen closet upstairs.”
We climb the stairs together, and it’s almost as if I’m being transported back in time.
Riley’s brother, Beau, and I were practically joined at the hip in high school.
Now we’re both grown up. Beau is going through a divorce, and I’m juggling an NFL career while trying to stay sane.
And Riley, she’s grown up too. She was always beautiful, but even more so now.
“So, you’re still teaching fifteen-year-olds, right? English?” I ask.
“Yeah, I am.”
She sounds surprised that I remember, but how could I forget anything about her life? Even if it’s only small tidbits that my mother or Beau tells me. Although she’s three years younger than I am, I’ve always had a soft spot for her.
“Still love it?” I ask her.
“I do, even though some of these kids know exactly how to push my buttons,” she says with a laugh.
“I can imagine. I haven’t forgotten what my friends and I were like back in high school. Poor Mrs. Kendall,” I say as I hand her a stack of towels.
Our fingers brush for a second, and Riley pulls back quickly.
“Thanks for the towels. I should probably get these back before my mom sends out a search party.”
“I’ll help you carry them over,” I say, grabbing another stack.
“Travis, you really don’t have to do that.”
I shake my head. “Riley, it’s towels. Not exactly heavy lifting. I’m used to dealing with 300-pound linebackers. Besides, what kind of neighbor would I be if I let you trudge through the snow alone?”
“We’re not neighbors, Travis. Not anymore,” she says as if that makes her sad.
The words hang in the air for a second, and I realize she’s right. We both moved away. Built a life somewhere else. But standing here with her, it feels like no time has passed at all.
“Technically, no. But to me, you’ll always be the girl next door,” I say.
Her eyes widen in surprise, but she immediately reels in whatever she’s feeling. “Fine, you can help me carry these towels. But if you slip and fall, I’m not carrying you back.”
I grin. “Deal.”
We head back downstairs, and I’m hyperaware of the space between us.
It’s not awkward or anything—more like careful.
Like we’re figuring out how to act around each other after all this time.
Maybe Riley’s keeping her distance because she’s seen the stupid tabloid photos.
Sienna Montgomery and I at that charity gala, the romantic beach walk in Malibu, the cozy coffee dates that looked spontaneous but were anything but.
Our PR teams all carefully orchestrated them, but Riley doesn’t know that.
Nobody does. For all she knows, I’m madly in love with America’s sweetheart.
The thought bothers me more than it should. I want to tell Riley the truth, even though the topic of Sienna and me hasn’t even come up yet. But I can’t. My contract forbids my saying anything.
We trudge through the snow to her parents’ house, and halfway there, I foolishly decide to have a little fun so I can see her smile again. I fake a dramatic slip, windmilling my arms and letting out an exaggerated yelp before dropping to one knee.
“Travis!” Riley drops the towels and rushes over, her face pale with worry. “Oh, my goodness, are you okay? Did you twist your ankle? Can you stand?”
She crouches down beside me, reaching for my arm, and the genuine concern in her eyes makes me feel like a complete jerk for a second.
I grin up at her. “Got you.”
Her jaw drops. “You—” She shoves my shoulder, hard. “Travis, you are such a, such a…”
“A what? A gentleman? A helpful neighbor? A devilishly handsome guy?” I ask as I stand up and brush the snow from my pants.
“A complete and total child,” she says with a roll of her eyes, but I can tell she’s trying hard not to laugh. “I thought you actually hurt yourself. What if you had a concussion or a broken leg or something?”
“Pretty sure I’d know if my leg was broken.”
“That’s not the point. I was genuinely worried about you.”
“Were you now? Didn’t you say you would leave me here in the snow if I slipped and fell?”
She plants a hand on her hips. “I said I wouldn’t carry you back. There’s a difference.”
“Is there really?”
She lets out an exasperated breath. “Yes, because… well, look at you. You’re a big NFL player, Travis. I couldn’t possibly carry you anywhere, even if I wanted to. You, on the other hand, could throw me over Mount Hartley with one arm.”
I shrug. “True. Now come on, let’s get inside before we turn into two freezing snowmen.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “No more funny business, okay?”
“Got it. Scout’s honor,” I say and hold one hand up like I’m taking an oath.
“You were never a scout.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “Exactly, which is why you should probably go first.”
She bites her lip to suppress a laugh and shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”
“What’s that?”
“I said it’s hard to believe you’re a thirty-eight-year-old man,” she says while I follow her up the front porch steps of her parents’ house.
“Reinforcements have arrived,” I announce as we step inside.
Mrs. Quinn appears in the hallway and immediately pulls me into a hug. “Travis! I had no idea you would be home for Christmas.”
“Last-minute decision. My schedule finally opened up,” I tell her.
What I don’t say is that I specifically asked for time off because I was exhausted from the fake relationship with Sienna, the constant media attention, and pretending to be someone I’m not. Coming home to Maplewood Springs is supposed to be a break from all that.
“Your mother must be thrilled.”
“She is. But I am too. It’s been a while since I’ve been home for the holidays.”
Mr. Quinn pops his head into the hallway. “Travis, good to see you. Could use your help to move furniture away from the flood zone.”
“On it,” I say, following him toward the living room while Riley disappears into the kitchen with her mom and the stack of towels.
“We were lucky to find a plumber. He was already working a few streets over and popped right over,” Mr. Quinn says while we shove the couch out of the way.
Half an hour later, the plumber appears from the basement with a toolbox in his hands and his boots dripping water. Mrs. Quinn and Riley hurry into the living room like he’s a surgeon about to deliver life-or-death news after a ten-hour operation.
“Bad news, folks. That burst pipe? It’s just the beginning of your problems. The water reached your electrical panel in the basement.
I can’t say for certain without an electrician taking a look, but you’ve likely got some serious wiring issues.
For safety reasons, I can’t recommend anyone staying here until that’s checked out and repaired. ”
Mrs. Quinn’s face falls. “Checked and repaired? How long will that take?”
“During the holidays?” The plumber grimaces. “I’m guessing a week just to get someone out here to assess it. Then you’re looking at repair time on top of that.”
“But it’s almost Christmas. We can’t be homeless for Christmas,” Mrs. Quinn says.
“Sorry, but there’s more,” the plumber says.
“More?” Riley asks.
“While I was down there, I looked at your pipes. They’re old, really old, as in corroded in multiple places. That burst pipe upstairs won’t be the last one if you don’t replace them. I’m seeing weak spots throughout the system.”
“You’re saying we need to replace all the pipes? But when we built this house, the contractor assured us they were top-notch quality,” Mr. Carter says.
“And how long ago was that?” the plumber asks with a frown.
“Well, about forty years ago.”
The plumber lets out a low whistle. “Yeah, that’ll do it. You have no choice but to replace everything. It’s a bigger job than just patching one leak. We’re talking about opening up walls, the whole nine yards.”
I watch the Quinns’ faces as reality sinks in. They won’t be able to spend Christmas in their home—probably not even New Year's.
Before I can stop myself, I blurt, “You can stay at my parents’ place and celebrate Christmas with us.”
“That’s okay, we’ll just call a hotel,” Mrs. Quinn says.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure they’ll all be booked. It’s the holidays after all. Seriously, just stay at our place.”
“Do you guys even have the space?” Mrs. Quinn asks.
“Yeah, it’s going to be a full house. My folks, Aspen and her husband Maddox, their baby, and some of my aunts and uncles. And cousins.”
Mrs. Quinn’s eyes widen. “Oh, we couldn’t impose on your family like that.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing. Trust me, my mom lives for this kind of thing. The more people to feed, the merrier. She’ll take it as a personal challenge. And we’re all neighbors, right?”
Mr. Quinn glances at his wife. “Well, it would only be temporary. And it beats having to frantically look for a place to stay.”
“It’s settled then,” I say and glance at Riley.
Spending Christmas with her might just be the best thing that happens to me this year.