Page 45 of Three Stepbrothers Save Christmas

Verity watches me momentarily, her eyes not leaving mine as I tuck a stray hair behind her ears.

“If you don’t love me, you don’t have to say it; I will understand,” she whispers, looking away.

“Look at me, Sweetheart.” When she does, I see the tears in her eyes again. It hurts that she doubts me, but I know it’s not her fault. Who was the last person to tell her they loved her and prove it? Her mother? She’s been dead for thirteen years. I know she had an aunt she was close to who’s also dead. Who has my girl had to show her what love truly is?

“I love you; I have for a long time, and I thought you would be better off without me. Now I know I should have told you, then maybe you wouldn’t feel the way you do now. But I promise to make it up to you. To support you in whatever you want to do and love you unconditionally.” I lift her hand to my lips and kiss it.

“Thank you,” she whispers, placing a hand under her head and lying on the pillow facing me. I watch her eyes slowly close before she forces them to open again. She is exhausted and close to falling asleep.

“Do you want to sleep in here tonight?” I ask, guessing she would prefer not to be alone. She nods, and I lie back on my back, holding out one arm.

“Come here then, Sweetheart.” She slides next to me and rests her head on my chest as I wrap my arms around her shoulders. “Get some sleep; it’s been a long day,” I whisper into her hair as I feel her relaxing into me.

“Night, Daddy,” she whispers, catching me off guard. I find myself smiling as I close my eyes and listen to the soft sound of her breathing as it gradually slows, and I pray that my girl will be able to come out of this stronger and happier.

25

Verity

I wake up, still wrapped in Travis’s arm. I feel safe and protected as I remember how he comforted me last night.

I’d laid in bed for so long, trying to make sense of everything. From my dad’s betrayal to the guys all saying they want to love and support me. So much had happened in such a short space of time, and I started to break all over again.

The one thing that stuck out from the pain wasn’t what I thought it would be. Deep down, I’ve been waiting for the day my dad would stop wanting to be with me and choose his new wife and life. It’s been coming for a long while, and I think, in a way, I was prepared for it. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt because I’ve never felt pain like I did yesterday, not even when my Mum passed away.

But when I was at my most broken, the guys were there in a heartbeat, and they held me together. It wasn’t just Ryan for getting me out of the shower or Travis for making me accept and acknowledge the pain. But Ethan, as well, simply by being him, teasing his brothers and making stupid comments when watching TV. All the small gestures, as well as the big ones, got me to the point where I felt I could go to bed on my own and sleep.

I was wrong.

As I lay there going over the day, on repeat like a scratched record, the one thing that upset me the most was how I treated Travis. That man held me as I punched him, screamed in his face, and said unimaginable things. He should have thrown me on the bed and left me for being a brat. It’s what my father would have done. But not Travis. He held me and showered me with affection and support. He told me to hit him and scream louder and that no matter what I said or did, he wasn’t leaving. I vaguely remember thinking I would push as hard as I could until he left. But he didn’t budge once.

It was when I realised how I treated him that I started to cry. When the realisation hit that he been truly there for me, nothing I did would have changed that.

Do I believe this will be long-term? I want to, with all my heart. But history has a way of repeating itself, and I know there is a real chance that Travis and the others will leave. But last night, I knew I would be safe with him, so here I am, lying in his arms as he sleeps soundly.

It’s still dark in the room, but I know it will be six o’clock. No matter when I go to bed, I never sleep past six. For a moment, I think about getting up, showered and dressed as I do every morning, but I’m warm and comfortable, and I don’t want to be the good girl my father wants me to be. It goes against everything within me to do something I know will disappoint him. But it also leaves me feeling slightly excited to do something wrong. It helps that I’m curled up against Travis’s warm, firm chest.

Looking up to see if he’s still asleep, I notice his necklaces hanging around his neck. He is wearing the usual thick silver chain his father gave him a year before his death. He also has a few leather cords, each with a different charm. It’s then I notice the one I gave him on his last birthday. I have no idea what the charm means; it’s a tribal mask surrounded by a border that made me think of the sun. I’m surprised to see him wearing it. I reach up and run my finger lightly over the charm, noticing how worn the cord looks as if he wears it daily.

I had been shopping with the girls when I saw it on a stand outside a hippy-style shop. It caught my eye, and I immediately thought of him. The design reminded me of his tattoos, and I knew I had to get it for him. I never expected him to wear it, but there it is around his neck.

I admire and trace the tribal design tattoos on his pecs, which are mainly black with a little colour. His chest is firm to the touch, showing how hard he works out. Have I ever been with men as well built as the guys? I don’t think I have.

Travis moans slightly, and I look up nervously, expecting to see him awake, but his eyes remain closed as he sleeps. I retrace the same area and he moans as he rolls, tucking me against his chest, holding me flush against his front his morning glory pressing in almost the right spot. I can’t help grinding against it slightly.

“Sweetheart, do you need something?”

Looking up, I find Travis watching me. I shake my head, suddenly very embarrassed.

“What did I say about asking for something you need?” he asks firmly. I look into his eyes and open my mouth to admit it, but once again, I’m too nervous to say it out loud. “Verity.” The way he says my name in that warning tone makes my whole body freeze and obey him.

“I’m horny,” I whisper. Travis’s hand comes up and cups my cheek.

“Do you want me to help with that?” he asks, staring deep into my eyes. I nod, unable to look away.

Slowly, Travis rolls us so I’m on my back, and he is lying over the top of me. His lips brush against mine as if testing what I want. I want him, not just because I’m horny but because I need him. He kisses me again gently before moving his lips down to my jaw, which he kisses before moving to my throat.

I tip my head back to give him better access, and he rewards me by taking my breast in his hand. I have tiny breasts; I’m almost flat-chested. It’s all the years of dance, I’ve been told. But the way Travis touches me makes me feel more of a woman than I ever have.

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