Song:
"What Other People Say" - Sam Fischer, Demi Lovato

A day of shopping left my feet aching, and the last thing I wanted to do was go to the bar. I'd been there more than enough times and really didn't want to run into anyone I used to know. Or, more importantly, anyone who would ask about Baker and me.

I stood in front of my full-length mirror. Mouth slightly parted as I dragged the mascara wand upward against my lashes, inwardly admiring the touch of festive gold I'd swiped over my hooded lid and the tasteful wing of black liner.

I liked makeup and wouldn't pretend that I didn't. The comments I heard growing up were nauseating, including my favourite, you're so pretty you don't need it.

I rolled my deep brown eyes. I didn't wear it often and it wasn't like I caked my face with foundation. I settled into my mother's complexion after a period of teenage awkwardness in high school thank god, so a bit of blush went a long way. And even if I did, it was none of their business. If a woman felt empowered wearing a face full of makeup, let her. If she enjoyed wearing skimpy outfits or high collared long sleeves, I say get it. Society's notions of what a woman should be or how they should look pissed me off more than anything. And if I wanted to wear a full face of makeup with a toque and sweats to one of my brothers' races, I would.

I took a breath and straightened, taking in the high-rise jeans and long sleeve crop top I slipped into–casual and comfortable but still stylish. After years of being forced into Carhartt toques and FXR gear, I enjoyed dressing up. I still preferred my hoodies and sweats over tight outfits, but when Janelle decided to drag me out of the house–which she had every intention of doing tonight after my mother suggested we go for dinner at the bar–we usually went all out. But we weren't in the city where no one knew us. We were here, where the judgements of people I grew up with would linger in shadowed corners.

The thought had my stomach squirming. I'd likely see dozens of people I used to know. People who'd seen the photos of Dallas and me over the last few months. I usually didn't care what anyone thought, but—

My palms coated in sweat, and I sagged. "Do we have to go?"

It wasn't long before Janelle barged into my room, poking small hoops through her earlobes. "Yes. We do."

I frowned, wanting to stick my tongue out at the gorgeous woman standing before me, with a skin-tight dress of crimson that accentuated her curves in all the right spots. "You know it's freezing outside right," I said, taking in her attire.

She slumped. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to wear?" She snapped, splaying her palms.

I laughed. Janelle was a city girl through and through, and while she wouldn't be out of place—what with the tourists who dressed exceptionally glamourous, she might feel different when she beheld the casual nature of the bar and the mouthwatering menu of bacon cheeseburgers and fries.

I shook my head in smile before making my way across the room to rummage through my dresser. "Here," I said and handed her a pair of thicker tights.

She snatched the black leggings—green eyes catching my tattoo. "So," she paused, giving me a look I knew all too well. "Baker."

"What about him?" I asked, remaining as carefree as possible. I was grateful my mother had accompanied us the entire day so I wouldn't have to answer the questions Janelle was dying to ask.

I saw the curious stare she gave Baker just last night and again this morning at breakfast when she examined us as thoroughly as a surgeon about to operate.

If Janelle knew about the tattoos, I couldn't say, though I caught her pluck them out easily enough at the table, when Baker just about retreated to the guest house after I nearly collided into him around the corner.

My heart stopped, and all I could do was gape as my mind fumbled for words.

Had it not been for my mother, he likely would have turned around. She practically shoved him in his seat after handing him his plate, and I was surprised she didn't force-feed the eggs and bacon down his throat.

Janelle's curiosity lingered, as she said, "You never mentioned him."

"I never mentioned the mechanics either," I snipped as I retreated to the mirror mounted on my wall and busied myself with my hair.

"Do the mechanics live here?" She prodded, a sly smirk curling in her corner.

No. "Why? Are you interested?" I asked with a touch of warning.

She let out a breathy laugh, thinking my sour disposition was comical. "Who is he?"

My heart sank. Baker was everything. A companion. A lover. The person I leaned on whenever something bothered me. The first person I'd call when something good happened in my life. But the man downstairs—

"He's on the team," I said, leaving it at that, "my father's business sponsors him among others."

"And your brothers?"

"All sponsored," I answered. "But Luke's out for the season."

"Luke's one of the twins?"

I wrinkled my brows at the coy look she gave. "Yes. The one with the boot."

She nodded—the hint of a smile ghosting across her mouth.

I waited a moment, and then it came. "Your brothers are cute."

I laughed. Then I realized how serious she was. "They don't share," I warned. "Anything. Least of all women." If anything, they'd compete. But loyalty came first. For all of them. Including Baker.

"I don't want both of them... although...."

I nearly covered my ears, and I must have made a face because she chuckled.

"Nate's a player," I explained. "He's had more lovers than windows in this house."

"That's oddly specific." She paused. "And Luke?"

I looked at her, almost pleading. "Luke's softer," I warned. "He plays off his emotions as nothing and rarely lets anyone in, but when he does...." Well–

Janelle nodded slowly in understanding.

For a moment, she dazed. Giving me a glimpse into what I knew was a hollowed-out heart.

Maybe Dick had affected her more than I initially thought. They hadn't dated for long, a month or two before I showed up, and she insisted it wasn't serious. Not till a few months ago when they made their relationship official. I scolded myself for not realizing it sooner. Too busy with worries of my own to notice how broken my best friend was.

Like Luke, Janelle wasn't one to let anyone in, but the empty look in those green eyes told a different story.

I might have asked about it had she not blinked and painted a smile across her face. "Fine. What about Baker?"

The guilt burned like fire to paper as a wave as hot as hell crashed through me. "Baker's off-limits."

Janelle's smile broadened at my reaction, and fear stole my breath, knowing he was waiting for us downstairs.

God, I hoped he didn't hear me, I thought, honing my hearing.

There was nothing—only the roaring laughter of my brothers, who were likely teasing Johnny about having to drop us off.

I didn't have any say over who Baker dated, slept with, or chose to be his girlfriend. Not after I chose Dallas, but it definitely wasn't going to be Janelle.

I waited to hear what she'd say. Whether she'd ask questions or move on, but all she did was smile. "Duly noted."

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying these daily updates <3