“Well . . .” I shrug. The truth is that I haven’t done a very good job keeping up with Carter. He’d probably be hurt if he knew I texted Shay more than him. That or he’d kick my ass. “It’s hard to stay in touch when we don’t see each other anymore.”

She cocks her head to the side. “But you kept in contact with me.”

Because I can’t seem to let you go. “Maybe I should try harder.”

The statement sounds as weighed down by guilt as I feel, but she waves it away. “Nah, he’s busy too. He joined the Jackson Harbor Fire Department last fall and is loving life.”

I laugh. “I can see Carter playing the hero.”

“He loves it. Mom, however, hates it. She’s proud of him, of course, but she . . . frets.”

“I’m sure.” I grin, thinking of Mrs. Jackson. “She still sends me care packages at Christmas with homemade cookies.” My smile falls away as I remember last Christmas, when Scarlett threw the whole box away and accused me of trying to make her fat to keep her. I was so pissed and told her I’d had no intention of sharing the damn things.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Shay asks. “You look . . . disturbed.”

I take a deep breath, in and out, visualizing the stress and pushing it away. “I never told you . . . I had to see a shrink my first year in the NFL,” I say, evading her question. “I didn’t have you around to help anymore, so I had to learn how to deal with it on my own.”

She winces. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it was good. I mean, I’m glad I finally learned some coping strategies.”

“I thought football was one thing you never felt anxious about.”

“Not the games, but everything else.” I look at the ceiling, remembering how overwhelmed I was by all the decisions that first year in the league. My agent helped, but it was still too much. “It was a lot, but I figured it out.”

“I’m glad. I guess you don’t need your own personal comfort creature after all.”

“Is that all you thought you were? My comfort creature?”

“I didn’t mind.” She dodges eye contact, studying her food instead, but she’s smiling. “It let me be something more than the tagalong little sister.”

“Shay?” I wait until she meets my gaze. It takes a while, but I’m patient and she’s curious. “There’s no one else I would’ve dropped everything for at the last minute. No one else I would have flown to Paris to see. You haven’t been a tagalong to me in a really long time.”