Free Step by Roxie Rivera

you intend to do that when you're on tour?"
    "Something tells me your little brother would love to earn a cool grand a month keeping tabs on you," he replied quickly. "A thousand dollars is a lot of money to a sixteen-year-old."
    "A thousand dollars is a lot of money to a twenty-one-year-old," I grumbled.
    He smiled and then ducked back into the refrigerator. "I don’t have anything fancy in here. We've been traveling a lot and working in the studio so I've got the basics. How about pancakes?"
    He could have offered me a frozen pizza, and I would have been just as touched. No one other than Benji had ever cooked for me. "Pancakes sound great. Do you want me to help?"
    "No." He set out the ingredients he needed from the refrigerator onto the counter and then strode toward me. Using the toe of his black leather boot, he pushed a barstool away from the counter and then picked me up like a naughty child and deposited me right onto the low-backed seat. "I want you to sit here and rest. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Soda?"
    "Soda, please."
    He kissed the top of my head, grabbed a soda from a cabinet and a glass from a cabinet that he filled with ice. He brought them back to me and then got to work making us a late lunch. Feeling awkward just sitting there while he cooked, I sipped my soda and then asked, "Have you lived here long?"
    "I bought this place about two years ago?" He whisked batter in a bowl. "I don't get to spend as much time here as I had expected I would. We were on tour all last year, and then I had that throat thing in the spring. We've been recording in Tor and Leif's studio in Sweden the last few months. The plan is to go on tour again right after the New Year."
    "That's a hectic pace."
    "Yes." He moved to the griddle he had been heating on the stovetop and began to drop dollops of batter on the hot surface. "We've been incredibly lucky that our fan base has continued to grow. Every time we think about slowing down, we hit a new surge of popularity. It's hard to say no to tours when your fans want to see you so badly."
    "I bet." I ran my finger around the rim of the glass.
    "It's a lonely life." He smacked the spatula against his bicep as he stood in front of the stove with arms folded. "I realize how crazy that sounds because we are constantly surrounded by people when we're on tour, but it's not the same as being surrounded by people who love and care about you."
    "Like your brother and cousin?"
    He nodded. "My brother is a SEAL so we don't get to see each other as much as we would like. When we do cross paths, it's for a day or two at most." He flipped the first three pancakes. "Our cousin was locked up on an aggravated robbery charge until earlier this summer. I came to visit him every six or seven weeks. One time, I flew from Tokyo to Houston and then right back to Sydney a day later to make sure that I got to visit him on his birthday. The jet lag nearly killed me."
    "You must really care about him."
    "Yes." His voice had grown softer so I didn't push. He plated the pancakes and brought butter and real maple syrup to the island. I hadn't ever tasted the real stuff, but I kept that fact to myself. In our house, the cheapest pancake syrup available sat on our kitchen table during a pancake breakfast.
    Step sat next to me, his thigh touching mine, and dug into the tall stack of fluffy pancakes on his plate. I followed his lead. In between bites, he asked me about Benji. "Which high school does he go to?"
    "He attends a magnet school with a STEM focus. He wants to be an engineer or a video game designer."
    "Yeah?" Step took a drink of his ice water. "A friend of mine designs video games. She owns a studio here in town. They started out on a shoestring budget, but she's gotten massively popular over the last few years. Maisie Fernandez. You might know her name."
    "Wait. Is she the one who has that zombie video game? The one with soldiers and cyborgs and crazy red-eyes zombies?"
    He nodded. "That's the