Page 28 of Touchdown Under the Mistletoe
I laugh. “Yes. Yes, Travis. I’ve been in love with you forever. I just never thought that, well…”
“That I felt the same way? Riley, how could I not? You’re brilliant and funny and kind. You see me. The real me. Not the player, not the brand. Just me.”
“I like the real you,” I whisper.
He kisses me again. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, and every hair on my body stands up. Kissing Travis is even better than I ever imagined.
As soon as he stops kissing me, I already miss it.
“I’m still leaving. The playoffs aren’t something I can get out of.”
“I know,” I say.
“But I’m coming back. Every chance I get. And in the off-season, I’m here. With you. If you’ll have me.”
“What about your career? You can’t just—”
“I have a few years left, if I’m lucky, but honestly? I’m done. This is the last season I’m going to play football, Riley. I don’t want any of it anymore. What I want is to come home. To you.”
My heart feels too big for my chest right now. “You mean that?”
“Every word. I’m done putting my career before everything else. Done pretending. Done being afraid. Life’s too short, Riley. And I don’t want to waste another minute of it without you. I already missed years.”
I smile, and now my tears aren’t sad anymore. They’re happy tears. I wipe them away and then notice something I hadn’t before. Above us is a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the porch beam.
Travis follows my gaze and grins. “Well, would you look at that? Guess we’re obligated.”
“I think we already fulfilled that obligation. Twice.”
“True.” He leans down anyway, his lips hovering just above mine, and my stomach flips in anticipation. “But I’m a firm believer in following traditions.”
His hand cradles the back of my head while mine slides up to his shoulders, then into his hair. He makes a low sound in his throat that sends goosebumps all over my body. I want to memorize every detail of this moment. The way he tastes, the way he smells, the way his heart pounds against mine.
When we finally break apart, we’re both smiling like idiots.
“So, what do you say? Want to write me letters while I’m gone? Real ones, with that fancy stationery I gave you?” he asks while he keeps holding me close.
“Only if you promise to write back.”
“Riley Quinn, I promise to write you so many letters you’ll get sick of hearing from me.”
“Impossible,” I whisper.
The back door opens with a creak, and Beau’s voice calls out: “You two done making out yet? Because dinner’s almost ready and Mom’s about to send out a search party.”
Travis doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Tell them we’ll be there in a minute.”
“Make it five minutes,” I correct, pulling him close for another kiss.
This one is interrupted by Beau’s groan. “Gross. You’re my baby sister, Riley. And you, Travis, my best friend. I’m going back inside before I’m scarred for life.”
The door slams shut, and we both laugh. We stand there for another moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the Christmas lights from the house twinkling merrily. Standing on this porch with Travis Steelbird’s arms around me and mistletoe above our heads, everything feels perfect.
“Merry Christmas, Riley,” he whispers.
“Merry Christmas, Travis.”
Epilogue
