The Right Move: Chapter 2

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no.’”

“I mean no. I’m not moving in with your brother.”

Stevie’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Why not?”

“Hmm, let me think. Because it’s a terrible idea.” Yes, moving in with my best friend’s brother sounds like a plot pulled straight from one of my favorite romance novels. Not to mention, said brother is Ryan Shay—basketball superstar who looks like he just walked out of one of my wet dreams. But more important than all that is… “Because he hates me.”

“He hates most people.” She pops her shoulders, and the casual-ness of her tone is a bit alarming.

“Really selling him, babe.”

Stevie takes a seat on the hotel room’s couch as I finish cooking my breakfast on the single burner stove. My vegetarian sausage looks like dog shit thanks to this god-awful cooking pan the hotel provided.

Extra-flavor, I tell myself, hoping I can put up with living in this hotel for a bit longer.

“I know Ryan is my brother, so I’m probably biased here, but he’s great. Sure, he may come off cold because he doesn’t exactly wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he’s a good guy. I love you and you’re my best friend. Ryan and I share the same DNA which means he’s going to love you too. Eventually.”

“Nice logic, Vee.”

“It’s science.”

I don’t honor that with a response, so she continues. “You both travel for work so much that you’ll barely cross paths. Plus, he doesn’t date, so you don’t have to worry about random girls coming in and out of the apartment.”

A single brow raises. “Just because he doesn’t date doesn’t mean he doesn’t sleep around. Have you seen the man?”

“I don’t want to think about that, thank you.” Her face scowls with a bit of disgust. “All I’m saying is he never had anyone over, and I lived there for almost a year.”

Probably saves his hookups for the road. Smart. And it would be nice not to worry about finding random girls in my home for once.

“I’ve offered our place, but you don’t want to move in there either. Zee has two extra bedrooms,” she continues.

“Vee,” I sigh. “The last thing I want to do is play third wheel and I sure as shit don’t want to hear the two of you going at it like a couple of rabbits every time we come home from a road trip. Really, I’m fine.” I take a seat on the ottoman next to the coffee table with my breakfast in hand. “Look at these places.” I toss the stack of printouts across the table, hoping my future home is in that mix, seeing as they’re the only places I can afford in this city.

The more papers Stevie flips through, the harder it is for her to hide her disbelief. “Indy, no. You can’t live in any of these places. Some of these are sketchy as hell and look at this.” She begins reading one of the descriptions. “Fifty-something-year-old male looking for a twenty-something year old female roommate.”

“I’m a twenty-something year old female and that place is only five-hundred bucks a month!” I take a bite of my veggie sausage, but it’s burnt to shit so I spit it back on my plate.

“Yeah, probably because you’d have to pay the remainder of rent in a different way.”

“Okay, gross.” Pulling that page from the stack, I crinkle it up, adding it to my plate of inedible garbage.

“Indy,” Stevie sighs, dropping the papers on her lap. “Please move in with Ryan. If not for you then for me. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’re staying in one of these places. You can text me daily updates of how it’s going, and I can keep Ryan in check if I need to.”

Pulling out my phone, I decide to send her one now.

She pulls her phone out, a grimace forming on her lips.

Stevie blinks rapidly as if she were clearing the image from her mind. “I’m going to gamble here and hope you’re bluffing.”

“Well, this is going to be fun.”

“If you move in with Ryan, we’d be neighbors!”

I can’t help but allow the smile to pull at my lips, thinking of living across the street from my old coworker and her boyfriend. I love them together, and I got a front-row seat to watch their relationship unfold last hockey season. As much as I’m going to miss having her on the road this year, I’m glad she and Zanders don’t have to hide their relationship any longer. Love like that shouldn’t be hidden away.

“That would be fun,” I agree.

“See! Plus, your favorite coffee shop is two blocks away and Ryan’s doorman is an absolute gem. You’re going to love him.”

While the idea of living in a luxury apartment in downtown Chicago stacked with every imaginable amenity sounds like a dream come true, I can’t help but hold back from saying yes.

I guess in part, I’m still convincing myself that being back in Chicago is a good idea. Every corner, every building, every street reminds me of him. That’s what happens when you spend your entire life loving one person. Every memory includes them.

And now I’m left grieving a version of my life that no longer exists.

It took everything in me to finish out the hockey season last year after I walked into our apartment and found Alex with someone else, but as soon as the Raptors won the Stanley Cup, I threw my shit in storage, packed a bag, and followed my parents to their new beach-front retirement home in Florida. Spending my summer there was a nice reprieve from the heartbreak, but being back in this city, where my entire life fell apart, it’s like I’m starting the healing process all over again, regardless that the initial shock occurred six months ago.

And after living in this hotel for a few weeks and training two new flight attendants to work under me, I can’t say for sure that I made the right choice by coming back here.

As if she could read my mind, Stevie shifts the subject. “First road trip of the season starts in a few days. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be with a completely green crew. Watching hockey boys strip down every flight won’t be the same without you.”

She tilts her head, shooting me that sweet Stevie smile. “Part of me will miss flying, but mostly I’ll just be missing you and Zee while you’re on the road. Though, I am excited to catch all of Ryan’s home games this year. How does it feel to be the new lead flight attendant and boss everyone around?”

“Weird. I never thought I’d be in charge of the Raptors’ plane in my second year, but I’m excited. And unquestionably stoked that Tara is gone for good.”

“Fired for fraternization,” Stevie laughs. “The irony.”

There’s a strict no fraternization rule as far as flight attendants spending time with our passengers—the Raptors, Chicago’s NHL team. And last year, Tara, the previous lead flight attendant, made sure to rub that in Stevie’s face as much as possible, but part of accepting my promotion was getting those rules to bend a bit. There’s still a strict no dating, no sleeping, no fucking around with the team, but we are allowed to be friends now. Kind of had to change the rules when my best friend’s boyfriend is the alternate captain, and we see each other around too much to pretend as if we’re not friends.

“It’ll be good to get away from Chicago for a few days too,” I add.

“What are you talking about? You were in Florida all summer. You’ve only been back here for a couple of weeks.”

A long stretch of silence lingers between us as I keep my eyes down on my lap.

“Oh, Ind. I’m an idiot. This has nothing to do with living with Ryan, does it? If you don’t want to be in Chicago, I get it. Trust me, I get it. I was trying to help you stay in town by finding you a place to live, but I didn’t even think about the fact you might not want to be here.”

“You’re not an idiot. You’re a good friend. It’s just kind of hitting me, you know? Being back here, knowing I could run into Alex at any moment has me sick to my stomach, but at the same time I’m tired of his decision ruling my life.”

I was days away from taking a job in Florida and making the move a permanent one before I got the call about the promotion. Alex took everything from me that night—my future, my apartment, my friend group. I wasn’t going to let him take this too.

“Indy, I get it,” she says gently. “Sometimes leaving is easier. Are you sure you want to be here? In Chicago.”

“I want to feel better.” I hold my head up high. “Maybe being back in Chicago, where everything went down, will force me to face the situation and heal quicker.”

“Well, if you change your mind and decide Florida is a better fit for you right now, I’ll help you pack your bags, but I hope you take Ryan’s offer. He won’t charge you more rent than you can afford. You can save this way. Things will be different for you, but I think they can be better.”

“You didn’t tell him anything—”

“Of course not,” Stevie interjects.

Looking around, I take a quick inventory of my hotel room. A mini-fridge so mini that I have to go grocery shopping every three days because full-sized items won’t fit inside. The suitcase I’m living out of because there aren’t enough hangers in the closet for my exorbitant wardrobe. Towels so tiny they barely wrap around my hair.

I miss having a home base, even if said home base is shared with one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’ve only met Ryan Shay twice in all these months, but you don’t forget a face or body like that. However, if I could have one wish right now, it’d be that we could both forget our previous encounters.

“If I knew I was going to live with the guy one day, I would’ve made a better first and second impression.”

Stevie’s blue-green eyes shine as she mashes her lips together, holding in her laugh. I was waiting for her to ease those worries and tell me her smoking hot brother doesn’t remember me at all.

“He hasn’t forgotten, has he?”

“Not even close.”

It took all but ten minutes to move out of my hotel room and another twenty to empty my storage unit. The U-Haul was embarrassingly bare. It’s sad, that twenty-seven years of life can’t even fill half a U-Haul.

Every piece of furniture or kitchen appliance that was bought during our six years together is still at our apartment. His apartment, and I’ve succumbed to starting over and trying to be okay with that. I didn’t notice the absence of my things when I moved in with my parents for the summer but having next to nothing is becoming blatantly obvious as I sit in Ryan’s apartment.

My apartment.

Though, this apartment is so bare it feels like I’m sitting in the middle of a museum more than anything and maybe that’s why my lack of things is evident. He doesn’t have much either.

His place is spotless and minimalistic. Black and white with no pops of color in sight—besides my wardrobe currently skewed across his living room as I attempt to organize. Attempt being the key word here.

I’ve been to this apartment a handful of times since I met Stevie, but it never looked this empty and…lonely. Stevie is as bright as I am. I guess all the color left when she did.

However, the view is breathtaking, the city skylights and the sunset over the Navy Pier distracted me for the first hour I was here.

My self-guided tour takes me to the kitchen. A single-cup coffee maker with one mug nestled underneath, ready for tomorrow morning, I guess. Dishes—four big plates, four small plates, and four bowls—all in black, like they came in a set, as if he’ll never have more people in his home. Not so surprising, when I open the first drawer—four spoons, four knives, four forks, most likely purchased in a small set.

I get that he travels for work as much as I do, but what if he wants to have friends over? Or what if he brings a woman home one night and she’s hungry, but he hasn’t done his dishes from the previous day yet?

Seems impractical to me, but something tells me that Ryan Shay thinks having just enough to get by is completely practical.

Back in the living room, my finger trails over his bookshelf, praying, hoping it picks up a layer of dirt or dust. Something to tell me this guy is human and not a robot as the rest of his apartment suggests.

There’s not a single photo in his home, but countless books. Every kind of motivational or self-help book you could imagine lines the shelves and they’re organized by…Are you kidding me? Alphabetical order of the author’s last name. This guy is a monster who probably runs marathons for fun and passes out nutrition bars on Halloween.

Lifting my finger from the shelf, it comes up clean. Not one speck of dust.

I hate it here already.

The click of the front door halts my movements.

He was supposed to be gone all night at some fancy event for the city. I was supposed to have time to clean my mess, get my clothes hung in the closet and my books picked up and piled neatly before he came home. This place is a disaster, and I was hoping to make a better third impression on Ryan Shay.

Kicking my piles of clothes into one, I try to take up as little space as possible, hoping he might not notice the bomb that went off in his home since I moved in two hours ago.

“What. The. Fuck?” His tone is dry and even.

Attempting to get myself together, I brush the stray, wispy hairs away from my face and plaster on my most charming smile. It works every time.

“Hi—” I turn around with a wave, but it dies in the air when I see the owner of this apartment standing inside the doorway.

I’ve met Ryan twice. Once he was shirtless and the other time, he was in casual clothes at a bar. But right now? In a fitted suit? Jesus Christ, I can’t live here.

It’s black with a subtle pinstripe throughout, and the dark color somehow makes his blue-green eyes that much more vibrant. His light brown skin and freckles match his twin sister, but I can guarantee I’ve never looked at Stevie the way I’m staring at her brother right now. Licking my lips, my eyes wander over his hair—chestnut and freshly faded on the sides with a bit of the Shay signature curls on top.

Ryan and Stevie’s mom is a white woman with freckled skin, blue eyes, and copper hair. Their dad is a black man, tall with a head of dark curls. The Shay twins are a combination of both their parents, but Ryan and Stevie seem to have inherited all the same attributes.

I’ve blurted it out both times we’ve met, but Ryan Shay is hot. He might be a robot, but he’s the sexiest robot I’ve ever seen.

“Indy.” He snaps me out of my trance.

Closing my mouth and crossing one leg over the other, I meet his eye. “Hmm?”

“I asked what the hell happened to my apartment?”

“Oh.” I awkwardly laugh. “You see, I’m organizing.”

“Organizing?”

“Yep.” Motioning to the chaotic mess I made on his living room floor. “My clothes.”

“If that’s your version of organizing, I don’t know if this arrangement is going to work out.”

I laugh at his joke before realizing, unfortunately, there’s no teasing in Ryan’s tone. He’s serious.

He hangs his keys on the small rack by the front door like the organized monster he is before quickly taking off to his bedroom without giving me a second glance.

This third impression is going to shit just like the last two.

“I was thinking maybe we could have breakfast tomorrow,” I quickly interject before he hides himself in his room for the night.

He doesn’t spare me a look as he reaches his door. “No.”

“It’d be nice to get to know each other, you know, since we’re living together now.”

“No.”

“Okay, no breakfast. You’re a busy man. Maybe lunch? Or maybe you don’t eat. Robots don’t eat.”

“What?”

That finally earns his attention as his head snaps in my direction, his aggressively ocean eyes locked on mine.

I swallow. “Kidding. It was a joke.” Another awkward laugh. “Coffee? It’d be nice to get to know the person I’m living with. Who knows, maybe we’ll even be friends?”

His eyes narrow.

“Okay, no friends.” I hold my hands out in defense. “No friends. No food. No fun. Got it.”

A soft chuckle vibrates in his chest and at first, I enjoy the sound, thinking he might find me funny, but then I realize the laugh is condescending.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want you here. I didn’t ask for you to move in, and the only reason you’re here is because you’re my sister’s friend and I’m the reason she doesn’t have very many. I like my space, and if it were my choice, I’d be living alone. So, no, Indiana, we’re not going to be friends. We’re going to coexist in the same apartment until you can find yourself a different situation while I fulfill my brotherly duty.”

He closes the door behind him a little harder than necessary.

Fucking ouch.

The third impression was worse than the first two.