My eyes ping-pong between all three of my family members, not wanting to spill the details and embarrassment of how I realized I was being used for three years by my ex-boyfriend.
I love my brother, but some things are better left unsaid. Me sleeping with the most notorious playboy in the city, for one. The other is that his friend is a piece of shit and made me feel like an unworthy option for years. But he doesn’t even see that our mom makes me feel like garbage, let alone his former college teammate, so what’s the use in elaborating?
“Nothing.” Quickly shaking my head, I stand from the couch, needing to get out of this apartment and fill my lungs with some fresh air.
My eyes dart to the large sprawling windows on the backside of our apartment. Chicago’s Navy Pier is brightly lit up for Christmas, but my gaze is glued on a tall, built figure across the street sitting on the front steps of his apartment building.
Zanders.
“I’m going for a quick walk.”
“Now? It’s late.”
Slipping on my coat, I tuck my feet into my Nikes before reassuring my dad. “I’m not going far. I just need a minute.”
Grabbing two fresh beers out of the fridge, I make my way downstairs and outside to see the only person who has made me feel good today.
22
ZANDERS
“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 much pussy, if not more, and tries half as hard for it. She stole more than a chick or two from me growing up.
But I’m not pulling all that much pussy 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.