Shit.
Swallowing hard, I place my hand in his, allowing him to help me out of the car. Ryan shields me as much as possible as I keep my head low, but I can’t really hide. There are too many people.
My heart races the further I get down the carpet, but at the same time, I know the only way to get away from this attention is to reach the entryway door in front of me. So, I keep moving.
“Ryan Shay!” reporters call out, wanting to get my brother’s attention.
“Ryan Shay, are you on a date?”
“Who is your date?”
I get that my brother is never pictured with women because he doesn’t date, but gross.
The doorman opens the main entrance, and Ryan ushers me inside before turning back to the mob that itches for his attention. “I’m here with my twin sister, so you can all relax,” he laughs. “Let’s have a good night for a good cause. Thank you.”
Always diplomatic, he offers the crowd a wave and a kind smile before following me inside.
“You okay?” My protective brother leads me to the coat check.
Nodding in agreement, I shrug off my winter coat, checking it in as Ryan does the same.
Thankfully, he cleared up who I was, so here’s hoping that keeps my picture off the internet tomorrow. I can barely handle the judgment from my own mother, let alone thousands of savage internet trolls.
As soon as we’re led into the main ballroom, my eyes widen in shock. The lighting, the music, the crowd—it’s all so beautiful and overwhelming to see this many people support Maddison’s charity foundation.
“Shay!” a few of Ryan’s teammates call out, urging us over to the small high-top table they’re standing around.
“Little Shay.” Dom, Ryan’s teammate, looks me up and down as I approach. “You look smoking hot tonight. Very bangable.”
“Watch it,” my brother warns.
“For someone else,” Dom corrects. “Someone who is not your twin brother’s teammate, and maybe someone who is cool with having their dick cut off.”
“Good to see you, Dom.” Laughing, I hug the big man. My brother’s pro teammates are all pretty awesome, which is vastly contradictory to how I feel about his college ones.
One college one.
One college one who is going to be here tonight.
“Am I allowed to give your baby sister a glass of champagne? Or is that grounds for getting my ass beat too?”
“I’m no one’s baby sister. Hotshot over here”—I motion towards my twin—“is only three minutes older.”
Ryan drapes an arm over my shoulders. “You’re still my baby sister, but Stevie is more of a beer girl. I’m gonna go grab us a round.”
Ryan takes off, leaving me with his teammates. As I said, they’re cool, but I have absolutely nothing to contribute to their conversation about last night’s double-overtime loss. So as the giant basketball players tower over me, rehashing their failed game, I allow my eyes to wander the room.
The space is stunning, with soft lighting, low music, and a wall full of auction items. Art, game tickets, and memorabilia, all donated to raise money for Maddison’s charity.
The guests are stunning, dressed to impress. Gorgeous women in extravagant gowns drape the arms of Chicago’s most prominent athletes. Tall, built men overtake the room, all wearing their best tuxedos. Everyone is just so...beautiful.
Working my gaze around the room, a sudden magnetic pull brings my attention to the space between two of my brother’s teammates. There in the distance, across the room, a pair of hazel eyes watch me.
Zanders.
God, he looks good. He’s surrounded by countless people begging for his attention, but his focus is set on me.
A soft smile rests on his full, very kissable lips before he silently mouths our favorite phrase, “You following me?” from across the room.
A laugh escapes me as I hold his eye contact, a blush heating my cheeks. Zanders wears an all too giddy grin, matching mine.
“Little Shay, what’s so funny?” Dom asks.
Bringing my attention back to the group of guys I’m standing with, I shake my head to tell them nothing. I’m not ready for my brother to know about my hookup with Evan Zanders, and filling his teammates in, is a disaster waiting to happen.
“Who’s that with your brother?” Dom motions towards the bar.
Without turning that way, I already know who it is. The pit in my stomach knows too.
After all these years, the idea of seeing Brett tonight has been weighing on me for weeks now. We have such a sordid history, and something about him will always remind me that I’m not enough. But at the same, I’ve always wanted to be. No piece of me wants to be with him now, but part of me wants him to want me for once.
I know that sounds fucked up, but this push and pull we had for years, more so him pulling away and me chasing to be enough, messed with my self-worth like you wouldn’t believe.
I just wanted him to choose me, and now years later, I feel like I need to prove I’m worthy of being chosen.
So, here I am, my wild curls as straight as an arrow. My clutch resting in my hands held over my stomach, trying to hide the curve there.
What is wrong with me? Why do I care?
“Little Shay, who is that?”
Finally, my eyes slide over to the bar finding Ryan with his old college teammate—my ex-boyfriend.
Ryan has two beers in his hand, one for me, I’m assuming, when Brett’s eyes meet with mine.
My stomach drops.
I want to run and hide, but I also want to stay put and prove to him something that doesn’t need proving.
That I’m enough.
“Ryan’s college teammate,” I absentmindedly answer.
Brett’s smile lifts when he sees me before he pats my brother’s shoulder, picks up two flutes of champagne, and heads my way.
I can’t keep my eyes off him. He looks good. He’s just as handsome, though his body has slightly changed due to the lack of basketball in his life.
And even these few moments of being around him again, I know I can’t do it. I can’t be in the same city as him. I already feel like I’m not enough.
“Does Shay know that you’ve banged his college teammate?” Dom’s tone is amused but somewhat fearful for the man walking my way.
“Yeah. The three of us were close friends, and he’s my ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh shit.” Dom grabs his champagne glass from the table, motioning to the rest of his teammates. “That’s our cue.”
The big guys take off as Brett approaches me with a champagne flute outstretched.
“Stevie, you look amazing.”
“Yeah, I know.”
A low chuckle escapes Brett’s lips. “Where’d my humble Stevie go?”
Humble? I think he means insecure.
Lifting the flute a little higher, he waits for me to take it.
“I don’t really drink champagne,” I remind him.
“You can tonight. Come on. I haven’t seen you in years. Have a drink with me.”
Reluctantly, I take the glass from him, never being great at saying no to this man.
“How are you?”
“I’m good,” I quickly answer, nodding. “You?”