“I don’t know. Just hope she doesn’t show up again or get my number, I guess.”
Logan stays silent for a moment before her eyes dart to me then back to the ground. “Have you told your dad?”
Have I told my dad? I haven’t told my dad much of anything since I left his house for college. He isn’t exactly the most caring or supportive man these days. I don’t think he could give two shits about the fact I’m a professional athlete, making millions of dollars a year. Which vastly contradicts my mother’s current intentions for wanting to worm her way into my life.
He wasn’t always this way, though. In fact, when I was a kid, we couldn’t have been closer. My dad was at every one of my travel hockey tournaments. We would talk sports all day, he’d help me work on my technique in the backyard, and he was always on my ass about my grades, knowing I needed to keep them up in order to qualify for a scholarship.
My dad is an overall good person, but he buried himself in work as soon as my mom left us. Maybe he was trying to be the man she wanted, or at the least make the kind of money she wanted, hoping she would come back to him, I’m not sure. But he abandoned me like my mother did, just in a different way.
He no longer cared about my grades or came to watch me play high school hockey. Instead, he would stay late at work, distracting himself from his broken heart. By the time he would come home, I was usually in bed after microwaving something to eat for dinner. Lindsey was already off at college at the time, and I had never felt so alone.
That’s when the panic attacks started. That’s when the anger started. That’s when the constant reminder that no one loved me started. That’s when I realized no one had ever loved me enough to stick around.
It wasn’t until years later, when I was in my third year of college, that I started going to therapy and working on my shit. I realized it was no one else’s responsibility to love me. So, I started loving myself. No one else was going to.
“Zee,” Logan softly says.
“Hmm?” Pulling myself out of the daze of my past, I softly stroke MJ’s swaddle with my thumb as he sleeps soundly in my arms.
“Have you told your dad that your mom has been trying to reach you?”
I shake my head, shooting her a half-smile. “I don’t want to bother him with it.” Which is code for, I don’t want to talk to him more than necessary. But I don’t say that. Logan is big on me and my dad repairing our relationship. She lost her own parents at a young age and would kill to have another conversation with her dad. I feel like a complete prick anytime I tell her I have no desire to speak to mine who is alive and healthy.
“Okay.” She ends the conversation with that, giving me a sad smile.
I look down at the sweet boy in my arms, thankful to have this family as my own, blood ties or not.
“Hey, Zee,” Logan says from across the couch. “We love you a whole lot.”
Somehow this girl always knows what I need to hear, the same way her husband can read me like a book. Sometimes I’m not great at admitting what I need, regardless of how blunt and honest I can be. But I’m thankful to have these people know me so well.
“I love you guys too.” Which are the only people I’ve said those words to, besides my sister, in the last decade of my life.
6
STEVIE
Evan Zanders is a dick.
But I think I’m starting to figure him out. It’s only taken three short road trips, but here we are.
He’s going to do everything in his power to get under my skin, but as long as I give him shit right back, I think I’ll be okay.
Once the aircraft doors are closed, blocking out the Detroit chill, I do my usual safety demonstration, standing in the exit row. Tonight, like most nights, is a red-eye flight, and the players are too distracted to watch or care about what I’m doing with a faux oxygen mask or seat belt.
All but one.
I’ll give you one guess.
That’s right, Evan Zanders’ hazel eyes burn into me, watching my every move as I do my job, just as they have for weeks now.
As I pack up the little safety demo bag, my favorite part of the flight begins. Only today, it’s not my favorite part, because today, I’m stuck in the exit row as every player stands and begins to undress.
A quick panic races through me as I attempt to find a way to escape, needing to get to the safety of the galley in the back on the plane, but it’s no use. Everywhere I turn, someone is undressing. I’m trapped by the most perfectly formed and almost entirely naked bodies.
And the most notable? The one standing directly in front of me, giving me no room to move?
Evan Zanders.
Zanders overtakes the space in the aisle, next to his seat. I try to turn around and make a dash to the front of the plane, but apparently, the coaching staff is getting out of their suits tonight too. Understandably so, we are flying an overnight flight back to Chicago. But I’m left with no escape plan whatsoever.
My wide and fear-stricken eyes find Indy’s in the front galley, where she was doing the safety demonstration. Instead of a look of sympathy, she shoots me a wink and two thumbs-up before hiding away behind a partition, leaving me to the wolves.
The naked wolves.
Turning back, my eyes immediately lock with Zanders’. How could they not? First of all, they’re gorgeous, all hazelly and shit. Secondly, he’s literally a foot away from me. He could move back if he’d like. He has the space to do it, whereas I don’t. But no. He’s twelve inches away from me as he seductively peels off his tailored suit jacket.
Again, I don’t know if he’s trying to be seductive or if he just naturally looks like he’s about to star in an adult film, but I have a feeling it’s the latter.
“You good, Stevie?” Zanders asks with a glint of mischief in his eye.
“Yep,” my voice breaks. I clear my throat. “Yep. Good. Great.”
Turning my head away, I rub my neck as Zanders’ long fingers, decorated with gold rings, take their sweet time unbuttoning his collared shirt.
I can feel his stare on me as I keep my eyes locked on the window exit. Partly to keep my eyes off him and partially to plan out my escape.
The plane isn’t taxiing that fast on the runway yet. I’m sure the road rash I’d endure from the jump out the window onto the asphalt would burn a whole lot less than Zanders’ gaze.
In my peripheral, a body full of flawless brown skin comes into view. And for some damn reason, I can’t help but look.
Zanders’ entire upper half is bare. His shoulders are wide and broad, but his body narrows at the waist. He’s cut like a freaking superhero. Even his muscles have muscles.
I watch as the light catches on the thin gold chain around his neck before my eyes meet his.
He couldn’t be more amused.
“Like what you see?” He smirks.