Page 87 of Fashionista's Playbook

“Yeah, I’m getting used to it.”

“I shouldn’t have let that happen to you,” she said, so quietly I almost missed it. “But I was too wrapped up in hating you to be a decent sister.”

And that was what bothered me the most. “You always had everything, Elise. The boys, the friends, the skinny clothes. I just wanted to have a place in your world. After prom, it took years—” I gulped in a breath of air “—hell, until Travis, for me to get over that.”

“Well, know that I paid for every bit of harm I brought on you. When I look at my boys, I can’t imagine what life would be like if they resented each other the way we have. It would break me.”

I thought back, trying to recall a time when I liked my sister and she liked me. The memory swam in my mind, as if I were reliving it in bittersweet clarity. “We can’t just go back to pretending to be princesses in the backyard.”

When I glanced at her, my sister had a sad smile on her face.

“You’ve already got your prince.”

“He’s definitely something.”

Turning to Elise, I caught her gaze and held it. “We can’t go back, but maybe we can start over.”

She nodded. “I’m not perfect, but I’ll try to be the sister you deserve.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Travis

The buzz, on gossip podcasts and elsewhere, wasn’t on our personal lives anymore. The focus had shifted to our playoff berth, and I couldn’t be happier. The chance at a championship ring on a fledgling team like the Outlaws was inconceivable.

The downside was that the buried loneliness inside me crept back in times like these. The emptiness shouted its presence with a deafening roar. There were two seats in the stadium that would remain empty, a part of my heart that would as well, and even Moriah couldn’t change that.

Since having Moriah’s family with us for Thanksgiving, Vin behaving as he had—showing up and acting like my brother again, I’d thought a lot about how much I missed our parents.

Moriah was helping to ease those old hurts. Especially when I convinced her to stay the night. Each morning I woke with her I was looser, lighter. The pressure of performing under the bright lights at an elite level was less—because I had her.

Damn. I’d never given someone that much power in my life. Not Vincent, not even my parents.

Sitting on the bench in front of my locker, I rubbed a hand across my face and took a steadying breath. The game wasn’t what was turning my insides out. Falling in love left me unsteady, barely able to function.

No one had ever come so close.

And here she was, asking for nothing but my patience and kindness. God, she was amazing. Lust simmered just beneath my skin each time I thought of her, burned hotter when I saw her, and sparked to a flash point if I got my hands on her.

But—there was more. I confessed secrets, opened up, and allowed her to occupy a space in my heart I’d thought to leave forever empty.

“That upset I missed Thanksgiving, brother?” Dozer slapped me hard on the back shoulder; all jovial and amped.

I dropped my chin and shook my head in a slow, sad motion. “Brokenhearted.”

“Nah D, he’s probably over there daydreaming about that beautiful woman he’s got. I heard she charmed the crap out of Mercer.” Clutch laughed.

Dozer did a dance, his hips turning in a spin that was comical because his large middle didn’t move at all. “This mean I’m buying a tux to wear with my championship rings?”

“Shut up, Dozer!” DeSean shouted as he laced up his cleats. “You jinx us this season and I’m going to start letting you run the routes.”

“Ha! I’ll be stiff arming them—” he held his right arm crooked against his massive chest and shot his left down and out, pushing away imaginary opponents “—like greased lightning up in there. Big boy with all the touchdowns.”

“I’d stick to blocking.” I snorted.

“Brother, I’ll clear your path all day if you get me to the playoffs.”

The plan was to do that—and maybe start looking at a different type of hardware to go with my championship ring.

---