Mile High: Chapter 22

“Stop being a little creep and come sit down.”

My sister’s words pull my attention away from the sprawling floor-to-ceiling window in my penthouse and back to the table where she and my dad sit, post-Christmas dinner.

“I’m not being a creep, Linds.”

Okay, that’s a lie. I am being a creep, but I saw Stevie’s family walk into her apartment building a bit ago, so I know she got my gift, and yet, I still haven’t heard from her.

Maybe she didn’t like it? I already felt like an idiot buying her something. Let alone buying her fucking sweatpants.

Who buys a girl sweatpants for Christmas?

Also, who buys a Christmas present for their last hookup?

I do. That’s who. Fucking idiot.

“Then why have you been looking back and forth between your phone and that damn window every five seconds?”

“Linds, can you not call me out like that, please?”

Taking a seat across from my dad and next to my sister, Lindsey tries to snag my phone out of my hand. But I’m a professional athlete, so I’m plenty quick to hold that shit above my head and out of her reach.

“Why are you being so weird tonight?” Her hazel eyes sparkle with a knowing glint.

“I’m not. Chill out.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Her mouth falls open in disbelief.

“What? Fuck no. Have you met me?”

“Yes, Ev, I have. Do you have a girlfriend? Is she hot? Would I be into her?” Lindsey’s grabby hands try to pull my arm down, wanting my phone, but I keep it far away from her.

For a thirty-year-old lawyer, when it comes to chicks, she really turns into a teenage girl.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. She’s…a friend. And yes, you’d think she’s hot.”

Lindsey stops trying to attack me for my phone and instead stills. “I never think your little puck bunnies are hot.”

“She’s not a puck bunny, and she’s not like my usual hookups.”

“So, you have hooked up?”

“What a lovely Christmas,” my dad pipes up with sarcasm, which is about the most he’s said to me tonight, and I don’t even know if those words are directed at me. “I’ve got to take this.” He holds his phone up before slipping into my guest room.

“Who the fuck is calling him? The only people who call him are you and me.”

“No,” my sister corrects. “The only person who calls him is me. Would it kill you to be friendly to him tonight?”

“I’m not not being friendly. We just don’t have shit to talk about.”

“Evan, he came all the way to see you.”

“To see us.”

“To see you. This was planned long before yesterday when I found out I could grab a red-eye flight to make it in time. Would it kill you to make a little effort back?”

I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he and I haven’t said more than a few generic words to each other over the years. I’m still mad at him for the way he handled things when my mom left. If Lindsey didn’t make it last minute, you’d be hearing crickets in my penthouse.

“I don’t know what to talk to him about. He doesn’t care about hockey. What else am I supposed to bring up? The fucking weather?”

“He does care about your hockey. He’s always filling me in on your stats when I call.”

“Well, he doesn’t say shit to me, so I don’t say shit to him.”

Lindsey rolls her eyes at my immaturity before changing the subject back to the wild flight attendant who has been taking up way too much of my brain space lately.

“Let me see a pic. I bet I could steal her from you.”

“Pfft. No shot.” That sounded like bullshit even to me.

My sister is almost more of a player than I am. She pulls as many women, if not more, and tries half as hard. She stole more than a chick or two from me growing up.

But I’m not pulling all that many women these days. In fact, I haven’t had sex since that night in DC. What’s the point? After knowing what it feels like to have a partner who can keep up with me, why would I want less?

Unfortunately for my right hand and me, Stevie hasn’t given in to a repeat round.

But ever since that day at the dog shelter, I don’t know that I’m all that interested in just another session in the sack. I kind of what to hang out with her, too. With our clothes on.

Without is cool too.

Whatever.

“Ev, do you like someone? For real?”

“No, Linds. I don’t.” My sister’s smile is lifted and knowing. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

“Holy shit. What is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. We hooked up once and it kind of fucked with my head, and I haven’t been too tempted to crawl into bed with anyone else.”

“Evan…” My sister’s eyes are big and proud. “You like someone.”

Exhaling a deep, resigned breath, I hide my face in my hands. “I know.”

“Can I see her?” Lindsey’s tone has shifted drastically from the teasing she was doing a moment ago. Now there’s just pride and excitement in her voice.

Pulling up Stevie’s Instagram, I show Lindsey my favorite picture on her page. But I also make sure to hold it away from my sister so she doesn’t accidentally double-tap it. Knowing her, she’d do that shit on purpose.

This photo of Stevie, standing on a bridge overlooking a river, with her back to the camera, is beautiful and natural, her chestnut curls waving in the wind. Her face is turned back over her shoulder, showcasing her freckles and blue-green eyes. She’s in her typical attire of baggy jeans, dirty Nikes, and an oversized flannel, though it’s blowing away from her body, and she just looks really…pretty.

Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Damn.” Lindsey’s eyes go wide. “She’s nothing like your typical type. She also looks way too cool for you.”

“She might be.”

“She’s hot, that’s for sure, and look at that ass.” My sister leans in closer, examining my phone.

“Absolute dump truck.” My voice drips with pride, but I don’t know why. It’s not like the owner of that ass is mine, though I kind of want her to be.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” Lindsey relaxes back in her chair, bringing her red wine to her lips.

“There is no deal. She works for the team and—”

Lindsey’s wine gets spit right back into her glass. “She works for the team? Please tell me this isn’t some forbidden kink of yours.”

“It’s not. I actually find it really fucking annoying that she could get in trouble for it. Anyway, she’s a flight attendant for the team plane.”

“She’s your flight attendant?” Lindsey bursts into a disbelieving laugh. “Fuck, this is good.”

Rolling my eyes, I continue. “It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Get it out of our systems.”

My sister nods in understanding.

“But I like being around her. She comes off self-assured with a bite, but she’s actually kind of sweet, and I don’t think she gets how pretty she is. I think all her confident bullshit is an act.”

“Asshole on the outside, softie on the inside. Sounds like someone else I know.”

“I bought her sweatpants for Christmas.”

That causes my sister to pause. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I shrug. “It’s kind of an inside joke. I thought it was charming, but she hasn’t said a word, and I’m worried I freaked her out.”

“If a girl I slept with once bought me sweatpants for Christmas, I’d have to think long and hard about going at it a second time with her.”

Well, shit.

My sister’s phone buzzes with an email. “Are you kidding me? Do my clients not realize it’s Christmas?” Standing from the table, she heads into the third room here. “I’m billing double for this.”

With the central part of my penthouse empty the way it typically is, I peek out my window once again and back to my phone, but still, there’s nothing. Well, nothing from Stevie. There is a text from Logan asking me to come over for dessert before the kids go to bed, which is a perfect excuse to get out of here.

Before I can bolt for the door, my dad comes back into the dining room after his phone call.

“Who was that?”

He looks at his phone then back to me. “Just a friend.”

Nodding, I stay silent, the way I usually am around my father. There’s not much to say other than me telling him how angry I am for how he abandoned me when I needed him most, but I probably shouldn’t ruin Christmas with that, so I stay silent. Just like I have for the last twelve years.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Eight in the morning.”

“I can get you a driver.”

“I’ll grab a cab.”

Another nod. Another moment of awkward silence.

“The team looks good. You’ve been playing well.”

“You’ve actually watched?” Fuck. That question was clearly a jab at him and came out exactly how I meant it.

My dad’s head jolts back a bit like he was hit physically and not just with words. “Of course, I’ve watched, Evan.”

“I figured you stopped watching a long time ago. Like twelve years ago.”

What the hell is the matter with me? I’ve been able to keep this anger under wraps for a long time. I don’t know why I can’t contain it now.

“Just like you stopped being involved in any part of my life twelve years ago.”

Holy fuck. Stop. Talking.

“I was in a dark place then—”

“Oh, you were in a dark place? You were in a dark place? I was sixteen years old, and my mother left me, and then you did too!”

“I never left!” His voice matches mine.

“You may have still lived at the house in Indiana, but you fucking left. You buried yourself in work.”

“Of course, I did, Evan. That’s why she left me. Left us. I was trying to make up for it.”

“You stopped coming to my hockey games. You stopped being my dad, and the only reason you give a shit now is that I’m in the NHL and could potentially win the Cup this year. You’re as much of a gold-digger as she is, Dad.”

I don’t even believe those last words that came out of my mouth, but I don’t care. I’m angry, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t know how to control it.

“Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? I didn’t raise my son to speak to people this way.”

“You stopped raising me a long time ago.”

“Evan—” My dad’s tone is utterly defeated, his lips turned down at the corners.

“Ev, what the hell?” Lindsey stands in the doorway between the room she was working in and the living room, staring at me in complete shock.

“I gotta go.” Standing from my seat, I slip my arms through the sleeves of my coat before tucking my ears into my beanie. I can’t look at my dad sitting at the table because too much guilt is rushing through me. Anger too.

“It’s Christmas. Where are you going?”

“To the Maddisons.” Ducking into the hall, I slam the door behind me and take a deep breath.

Fuck. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to care anymore. I don’t need my dad to love me. I love myself, and that’s enough.

My body is bouncing with energy as I ride the elevator down to the lobby, and when the cold Chicago wind hits me as soon as I step outside, it does nothing to calm me down. I’m still fueled and fired up.

Needing to chill out before seeing Ella and MJ, I take a seat on the front step of my apartment building, my entire body slightly shaking, not because of the bite in the air but from the adrenaline coursing through me.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been unable to articulate my feelings in a level way. Anger rarely takes over, but I couldn’t help it tonight. I don’t know how he doesn’t see what he did.

At the root of it, I want him to apologize, and I want him to be the dad he was while I was growing up. I miss that man. I miss our relationship, and I hate admitting that I need him to love me like he used to.

The oxygen around me doesn’t seem to want to fill my lungs as I discreetly as possible try to inhale a deep breath, but it doesn’t work.

I thought I loved myself enough to stop caring about anyone else’s affections.

“Merry Christmas,” a soft voice says.

Looking up from my crossed arms, Stevie stands at the base of my steps with a beer bottle outstretched.

My lungs fill up with air.

“Merry Christmas.” A thankful smile finally slides across my lips. “You following me?” I teasingly ask.

“You looked like you could use this.” Placing the beer in my hand, she takes a seat next to me, her knees up to her chest to keep some warmth in.

“You have no idea.” Cheersing her bottle with mine, I take a long swig of the cool amber liquid before dropping my head between my shoulders, needing to compose myself.

“Are you okay?” Turning her head to face mine, Stevie’s blue-green eyes are concerned and sincere.

I hold her stare for a moment, realizing that blue-green doesn’t suffice as an adjective to describe her eyes. The blue is more of a turquoise, the kind you’d find in the brightest, cleanest part of the ocean. The green rims the outside, and it’s dark as if you’re looking through a forest of redwood trees.

And I’m thankful for the distraction they bring me as they pull me into their mesmerizing abyss.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Well, thank God because how embarrassing would that be for you if I found you crying on the steps.”

Those pretty eyes glitter with mischief before she hides her knowing smile behind her beer, taking a sip. But her humor brings a much-needed reprieve to my night.

“Thank you for my gift.” She nudges her shoulder into mine.

“Do you like them?” My eyes wander down her legs, noting her new sweatpants.

“I love them. Way too expensive, though.”

“I’m rich, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

“So, where’s my present?”

“Right here.” She motions down her body, which earns a quick, interested brow arch from me. “Nope. That came out wrong. I meant my presence is your present.”

“Sounds good to me.” I scoot another inch closer to her, but still not touching, though I really want to be. “How was your Christmas?”

She looks at me momentarily, searching my face. Maybe wondering if she wants to divulge, I’m not sure. “It was shitty.”

“What happened?”

Stevie takes a long swig before shaking her head. “Just some family stuff. My mom is kind of the worst.”

“Hey, mine too!” The excitement in my tone has nothing to do with sarcasm. She really is terrible, but my enthusiasm causes Stevie to laugh.

“Does your mom make underhanded comments about the way you look or disapproving statements about the direction you’ve taken your life?”

My brows furrow. Screw her mom. The first part of that question has me fired up once again. I know Stevie deals with some body image issues, and I’ve become real protective over that.

“My mom left, so she’s not around to say anything.”

“Shit.” Stevie pauses. “Sorry, Zanders. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

Staying silent, I keep my eyes glued to the steps below me. Stevie is trying to be open with me. Probably best not to make it about myself. “What about your life does she have an issue with?” I shift the conversation back to the pretty girl sitting on the steps next to me.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m not sure if she even knows why. But she constantly compares me to my twin brother, and compared to him, anything I do is pretty unimpressive.”

“Why? Because he’s a professional athlete?”

Stevie’s head snaps to mine. “How did you—? How long have you known?”

“Since I found you on Instagram a couple of months ago.” My grin has no apology in it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Truthfully? Because I don’t give a shit that Ryan Shay is your brother. And I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”

Her pinched brows soften. Tilting her head, she shoots me a thankful smile.

“So, why didn’t you want me to know?”

Stevie’s shoulders pop in a shrug. “I just thought for once, it’d be nice not to be known as Ryan Shay’s sister. I wanted people to like me for me and not for my sibling.”

“I like you for you.”

Fuck. What is up with me today that I can’t keep my goddamn mouth shut?

Stevie playfully nudges her shoulder into mine. “I know. You’re practically obsessed with me.”

Thank God for her teasing. I’m not ready for her to know how hard I’m crushing on my flight attendant just yet.

But I like this. I like talking to her.

I’ve never talked to a girl I’m attracted to. I always keep it surface level and physical because that’s all I want.

But this. I want this.

“I don’t get how your mom could be unsupportive. I mean, you have a full-time job. You found something you’re passionate about on your off days, and you get to travel the country with the sexiest man in Chicago.”

That causes a laugh to vibrate through her.

Her smile is really fucking pretty.

“She’s a traditional Southern belle and expected me to be too, but I wasn’t into the pageants or the sororities. I’m sure she’d assumed I’d get married to my college boyfriend and knocked up the second we graduated, and I don’t think she finds having a job or working at the dog shelter all that impressive. She expected me to live my life the way she did.”

“She sounds jealous.”

“She’s not jealous,” Stevie laughs. “She’s disappointed.”

“I don’t know, Stevie. It sounds like she got stuck doing some boring shit while you get to go live the life you want and do the things you love.”

“What I really want is not to have to fly anymore so I can spend all day every day with the pups.”

“Oh no. I need you to keep flying.” Bringing my beer to my lips, I take a swig. “Who else is going to get me everything I need on board?”

Stevie rolls her eyes. “Literally any other flight attendant on the airplane.”

“So, what did your mom say when you told her to fuck off?”

“Yeah, I didn’t do that.”

“And why not? You have no problem putting me in my place. Why does your mother get to walk all over you, and why did you let those girls in Nashville get away with it?”

She shyly pops her shoulders, keeping her eyes averted from mine.

“Stevie…” I coax.

She releases a deep, resigned exhale. “I don’t know. Sometimes when I don’t feel the greatest about myself, I let others treat me that way too.”

“You don’t let me treat you like that.” Not that I would.

“That’s because I always feel good around you.”

That makes my chest swell with pride. “People like that are going to treat you like you’re not enough or you’re not worthy, but that’s their own insecurities coming out. They’re bullies, and they’ll stop when you make them stop. If you start loving yourself, their words will no longer have meaning. You’ve got to start standing up for yourself, Stevie.”

She shoots me an understanding smile. “I’m working on it.”

Not so slyly, I scoot another inch closer to her on the step, but I’m still not touching her.

Not until she tells me she wants me to.

“How’s Rosie?”

Stevie’s face lights up. “She’s good. She misses you, though.”

“I’ll have to go see her soon.”

Her expression melts, her smile soft. “How was your Christmas?” Stevie finishes off her beer, setting the bottle down beside her.

“It was all right. I may have ruined it, though.”

Crossing her arms on her bent knees, she rests her cheek on them, facing me. “How so?”

“My dad is up there.” I motion upward. “And we don’t have the best relationship, but I just said some shit I’ve been keeping bottled up for a long time.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Searching her face, I hesitate. Not many people know this part of my life. I keep my circle small due to the fear that people will either take advantage, wanting to sell the story to the media, exposing the side to me that I don’t want people to know about, or just not like me for who I really am.

“Fuck it.” I chug the remainder of my beer, needing a little liquid courage. “My mom left us when I was sixteen for a man who made a shitload more money than my dad did. I have an older sister, Lindsey, who was away at college at the time, so it didn’t affect her in quite the same way it did me.”

I keep my eyes ahead of me, unable to look at Stevie in my vulnerability.

That is until she scoots closer to me, her thigh and shoulder touching mine. Her hand dangles between us, crossed over her knee.

I melt into her touch, noting absolutely no judgment on her face.

“My dad and I were close growing up, but when my mom left, he buried himself in work and with my sister off at school and my dad never home, it felt like he abandoned me in the same way my mom did. We’ve barely spoken to each other since.”

“Shit,” Stevie breathes out.

“And for the first time in twelve years, I just went off on him upstairs.”

“What did he say?”

“That he worked more because he was trying to make up for her leaving. But I never gave a fuck about how much money we had. I just wanted him around. I wanted him to love me.”

“I’m sure he does love you, Zee. Maybe he was grieving her leaving in his own way. Maybe…I don’t know. Maybe he had his reasons.”

“There’s no reason to abandon your kids.”

Looking over to Stevie, her blue-green eyes hold mine, unwavering, confident in this conversation.

“You just called me ‘Zee.’ You rarely call me anything other than my last name.”

“Yeah, well, there are certain times when calling you ‘Zanders’ seems a little weird.”

My eyes shine with amusement. “Like when you called me ‘Zee’ as you came all over me.”

Stevie’s mouth falls open in mock shock, smacking me on the shoulder. “Jesus. Here we are having a moment, and you just want to talk about sex.”

“We’re having a moment, huh?”

“Well, we sure as hell aren’t anymore. Moment has passed.”

Chuckling under my breath, I cross my arms over my knees, resting my cheek on them and mirroring her. Our hands dangle next to each other but don’t touch.

“Your mom is missing out.”

Stevie’s words make my chest swell, and my eyes sting a bit.

“She left me for money, and now I make more money than the man she left us for. Ironic, huh?”

“That’s not what I’m referring to. I’m not talking about how much money you make or who people think you are. I’m talking about who you really are. She’s missing out on that.”

“And you think you know who I really am?”

“I think I might be starting to figure it out.”

Her hand is right there, mere centimeters from my own, but I’m not really a hand-holding guy. In fact, I’ve never sentimentally done that. So instead, I hook the tip of my middle finger around hers, and touching her even that much feels nice.

“Hey, Stevie?”

“Hmm.” Her head leans on her arms, facing me.

“I like talking to you.”