Page 35 of The Playmaker
"Need some help in there?" I call out to Pen.
"No, no! I've got it. Just give me a sec," is her harried reply.
"It goes great with the necklace Jax got me, doesn't it, Mrs. M?" the teen squeals softly.
I jerk upright in my seat, cheeks flaming and ice flooding my veins at the same time, giving me the most unpleasant sensation.
Jax? As in, the Jax? As in…?
I sneak the least subtle peek back at the teen. Oh my God! She does look like Jax. It's the bone structure of her face! Who is this girl?
I stay absolutely still in my seat and pull out my phone so I can eavesdrop while looking extremely busy on my phone.
Please keep talking… please keep talking…
"Let me see the necklace with the dress again," the older woman says.
I hear the rustling of fabric and then the woman speaks again.
"Oh, definitely, Riley. He picked out the perfect piece for this dress."
The teen gushes, "And he didn't even know about the colors of my dress when he bought it!"
I have to do it. I can't not do it now, not after that big reveal. This teenager is Riley? Is this his daughter? His… what? I turn my head and stare. It's dumb and rude, but desperate times…
And this is a desperate measure. My God, she's a pretty young lady. So elegant and graceful in her movements. Thankfully, she and the woman are ignoring everything but each other.
"I guess you don't think he's the worst big brother in the world after all, do you?"
The teen rolls her eyes. "Okay, he still hasn't given me like any freedom, so I wouldn't go that far, Mrs. M."
The two laugh and tease while I all but have a hernia in my seat—I'm absolutely bursting with this news!
Jaxon Carter has a little sister named Riley! I did not see one word, not one, in my online research about him having a sister! How many more of them are out there? Maybe he has lots of sisters…lots of hidden siblings…Lots of secrets.
I keep my eyes on the blank screen on my phone, brain whirling. This is the scoop of my career, an expose above all exposes. And I'm just sitting here pretending life is normal, peachy, whoop-dee-doo.
Why?
Why am I not on my phone calling Ann? Why am I not begging Pen to force a conversation with Riley…? What is wrong with me? It's almost like…I can't. I can't because this is Jax. And this is his secret. One he has clearly guarded for years in the NFL. And part of me wants to guard it too.
Damn it.
"Someone looks constipated," Pen snarks as she walks outof the dressing room, a bright colored dress over her arm, the winning selection, it would seem.
I can't tell her. So, I just stand to my feet hazarding a glance at the retreating teen and older woman as they walk out of the store.
Riley.
She seems so sweet, so untarnished by the cruelty of the media and the world. I can't help myself—I adore her already. There's something so genuine about her. I feel my heart tug a little as she walks away.
I want to run after her, to hug her, to tell her that her brother is…I don't know. Either my biggest temptation or the best thing I've come across in a while.
"No," I mutter. "Jax is a jerk."
"Wow," Pen says, selecting a different size of bright dress off the rack. "That needs context."
"I was just thinking about how he did not give me the info I needed for my web series. You know, about his parents' deaths and R— um…everything." I literally almost said Riley. I'm losing it.
