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.”