Page 29 of Touchdown Under the Mistletoe
Travis
One year later
The stadium lights are blinding, but I know exactly where Riley is sitting. Third row, forty-yard line, wearing my jersey. She’s got a thermos of what I know is hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and she’s sandwiched between my mom and hers, both of whom are screaming loud enough to be heard over the sixty thousand other fans packed into this stadium.
I adjust my helmet and try to focus on the play that Coach just called, but my eyes keep drifting back to her. She catches me looking and waves, her smile bright enough to rival the stadium lights. My heart does that stupid flip thing it’s been doing for a year now, every single time she looks at me like that.
“Steelbird! Eyes on the field!” Coach barks, and I snap back to attention.
Right. Football. The thing I’m actually supposed to be doing.
The whistle blows, and I’m moving on instinct, reading the play, watching the quarterback’s eyes. The running back breaks left, and I’m there, wrapping him up and bringing him down hard but clean. The crowd roars, and I can hear Riley’s voice cutting through everything else, screaming my name.
When I jog back to the sideline during the timeout, I risk another glance at the stands. She’s on her feet, clapping, and I can’t help but grin like an idiot. This woman is mine. Mine!
“Man, you’ve got it bad,” Thorne, our safety, says with a laugh as he slaps my shoulder pad. “One year later, and you’re still making heart-eyes at her during games.”
“Shut up,” I say, but I’m smiling, nonetheless.
Because he’s right. I do have it bad. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.
The last year has been unexpected, to say the least. When Sienna and I released our joint statement admitting the relationship had been a PR arrangement, I braced myself for backlash. For sponsors pulling out, for fans turning on me, for my career to take a massive hit.
Instead, something weird happened. People loved it. The headlines shifted from ‘NFL Star Caught Cheating’ to ‘Travis Steelbird’s Honest Confession Wins Hearts.’ Sienna and I did a joint interview where we talked about the pressures of fame, the impossible standards celebrities face, and how we’d both made a choice we regretted. We were honest, authentic, and vulnerable in a way the media rarely sees from public figures. And the fans ate it up.
My endorsement deals didn’t disappear, but they evolved. Instead of being the picture-perfect boyfriend, I became the guy who chose authenticity over image. The player who walked away from millions because being true to himself and the woman he loved mattered more than money. Ironically, that authenticity made me more marketable than the fake relationship ever had.
Sienna’s also doing great. Her co-star finally asked her out, and now they’re Hollywood’s newest power couple. The kind where they can’t stop looking at each other on red carpets, where the chemistry is so obvious that astronauts could see it from space.
As the fourth quarter is winding down, we’re up by two touchdowns. This game is in the bag, which means I’m officially done until after Christmas. Three weeks off. Three weeks to go home to Maplewood Springs with Riley and spend the holidays with both our families again.
Last year was supposed to be a one-time thing with the Quinns staying with us because of the plumbing disaster. But by New Year’s, when their house was fixed and they could move back in, nobody wanted the arrangement to end. So this year, both families made it official: Christmas at my parents’ house has become an annual tradition.
Beau’s already there, helping my dad set up the extra tables and chairs we’ll need for Christmas dinner. We’ve gotten even closer this past year, despite my initial fears that dating his sister would complicate our friendship. If anything, it’s made us closer. He sees how happy Riley makes me and how she grounds me in ways I didn’t even know I needed.
The final whistle blows. We won, 31-17. The crowd erupts, and my teammates are celebrating on the field, but I’m already scanning the stands for Riley.
She’s making her way down to the field access area, and security waves her through without hesitation. I’m jogging toward her before my brain even registers the decision to move. She meets me at the edge of the field, and I don’t care that there are cameras everywhere, that this will be on ESPN and social media within minutes. I sweep her up in my arms and kiss her like I haven’t seen her in months instead of just this morning.
She laughs against my lips. “Great game, superstar.”
“Thanks, but it’s even better now that you’re in my arms,” I say, setting her down but keeping my arms around her waist.
“Still cheesy after a year,” she teases, but her eyes tell me she loves it.
“You love my cheese.”
“I really do.” She stretches up on her toes to kiss me again. “Ready to go home?”
Home. Not my apartment in the city, not Riley’s apartment, not the hotel where the team usually stays.Home. Which means Maplewood Springs. Our families. And the Christmas traditions we’re building together.
“More than ready.” I take her hand, lacing our fingers together as we walk toward the tunnel. “Fair warning, though. Beau’s already texting me demands for manual labor. Something about a playhouse Beau bought for her?”
Riley laughs. “Rosie’s going to love it. She’s obsessed with you, you know. Keeps asking your sister when Uncle Travis is coming home.”
Uncle Travis. My heart does that flip thing again. Rosie started calling me that a few months ago, and it never gets old.
“What about you? Are you obsessed with me too?” I ask, pulling her closer as we navigate through the crowd of reporters and fans.
