Page 37 of The Playmaker
"I know. I was just thinking, I wish Mom and Dad were here to watch me."
It comes out heartbreakingly quiet, but I hear it. I catch Mrs. Mathews' gaze in the rearview and she shakes her head once, leaning over in the backseat to squeeze Riley's arm.
"I wish they were too," she says. "If they were, Jax and them would be front and center at every one of your ballet performances and each big event in your life."
Riley sneaks a sad look up at me. "Really? Because I don't think you even want to be part of my life."
That hurts. A lot. Like someone just drove a knife between my ribs and twisted. Riley turns her mournful eyes out thewindow, one hand reaching up to idly fiddle with the necklace I bought her.
I keep my tone gentle. I'm not sure exactly how to navigate her emotions, especially not as easily as Mrs. Mathews does, but I do my best. "I want to do all the things with you, Riles. If Mom and Dad were here, I'd be at your ballet school so often, they'd kick me out. And our parents' primary job would be keeping you safe from the paparazzi and all the leeches out there who would want to use you to try to make themselves feel important. I would be there. For everything."
We lock eyes in the mirror and she smiles. Not her full megawatt smile, but enough that I know we're okay. For now.
"Prom-prom?" she asks, all pretense of trying to be cool or unaffected gone for now.
I grin. "Double promise."
"Well, at least Mrs. M can come. Even if she forgets during a ballet show you can't randomly clap whenever you want to." She makes an embarrassed face.
Mrs. Mathews guffaws. "I do no such thing!"
"Um, yeah, you do." Riley laughs. The sound brings joy to my heart.
Mrs. Mathews looks aghast then smiles. "There was that one time, young lady. I've never done it since."
The somber mood seems to have shifted enough for Riley's eyes to be sparkly and full of excitement when we pull up to the back of the event venue for her ballet awards ceremony. Mrs. Mathews fusses over Riley's hair and dress as if my sister is still twelve, then Riley groans enough that the kindly older lady clucks her tongue, proclaiming Riley to be the prettiest girl in the world. This elicits yet another groan before Riley steps out of the car.
I glance in the backseat at Mrs. Mathews. "Teenagers." I chuckle.
"You spoil her," she tuts as she gets out.
I check the area, seeing that one of the restaurants for Restaurant Week is next door. I step out of the car.
"Looks like one of the restaurants in the event Hawk and I are going to is right next door."
"The only one of your football teammates you let me actually talk to." Riley sighs as if the deprivation is too much to bear.
"Alright, alright, Ms. Complainer." I pull her into a hug, which she resists for only a second. "Have fun. And congratulations on winning an award tonight." I wink at Mrs. Mathews over Riley's head.
"Three awards! And the winners haven't been announced yet," Riley sighs as if I'm impossibly slow.
"Ohhhh, right. Well, I am very sure my little sister is the best and you will win."
I offer her a fist bump and she returns it with a smile.
"Knock 'em dead," I call out as she and Mrs. Mathews make their way around the side of the building to the front.
I hope my sister doesn't want a "normal" life one day so much that she stops listening to me about maintaining privacy. Reporters and paparazzi would look for any part of her life that seemed less than perfect or kosher and twist it to make her look bad. I should know. They do it to me and also to the other NFL players on the daily. It's a lot of pressure.
Anytime I text someone outside the team I know those texts could get released to the media. That goes for photos and even phone calls that could be recorded and sold to the media. Riley thinks I'm paranoid, but I've heard enough to know journalists cannot be trusted.
The memory of Avery's face flashes through my mind again, and I feel a twinge of guilt. Is she different? Or am I just letting my attraction cloud my judgment? Eight years of careful planning, of keeping Riley safe—is it worth risking for a woman who makes her living exposing secrets?
I pull out my phone and try to call Hawk. He doesn'tanswer so I text him that I'm at one of the restaurants and will wait for him there.
I quietly make my way across the parking lot to the back of the restaurant, thinking I was able to drop off my sister without anyone seeing or being around in the area.
Until I look at the back door of the restaurant.
