Page 23 of Hey, Stepbro

I turn to Brock. My heart aches, and I want to tell him about Mom. About how she was addicted to pills, which is the main reason Dad didn't want to get another pet after she passed away.

Is it the right time? I wonder how much Brock knows about my past, or if he knows anything at all.

"Have you ever lost anyone special in your life?" I ask.

"Yeah," Brock says. "Carlos."

"I mean, I know he's not in your life anymore, but I don't know what happened."

"I don't talk about it much because I don't like to think about it."

"I understand," I say.

"It happened about a year before our dads met," Brock says. "However, I tried my best to block out the memories, and I'm not sure I even remember the details."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Don't be," Brock says. "I have a lot of great memories with Nathaniel. That's what's most important."

"I know how much you love Nathaniel. I think that's awesome."

I'm not sure if it's the right time, but I'm so scared about going home and not being able to say something to him.

"I lost my mom," I say.

Brock stares at me, speechless. "I'm so sorry," he says. "I didn't know."

"It happened three years ago," I say. "But I remember her. I remember when she was around. She was a pill addict, and she lost herself in that world."

"She knows how much she meant to you. I promise."

"I don't know," I say. "She was in a bad place."

"That doesn't mean she didn't love you."

Brock and I stare into each other's eyes. His gaze is so warm and comforting that a sense of newfound peace fills me. After a moment, he reaches out and takes my hand in his.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asks softly.

I nod, and we walk away from the shelter, hand in hand. The other volunteers will handle the event.

We find a quiet spot in a nearby park, surrounded by trees and wildflowers. The mid-morning sun is gorgeous, painting the sky with beautiful hues of yellow and white.

After spotting an empty bench, we settle down side by side, and Brock wraps his arm around me protectively. He looks into my eyes again, his gaze filled with warmth and understanding.

"Can I hug you?" he whispers softly.

I smile at him and nod slowly as tears fill my eyes. He pulls me close to him and holds me tightly against his chest as I let out all the emotions I've been holding onto for so long—grief from losing Mom, fear of going home without her there.

It melts away at that moment. All at once. Brock's embrace washes over me like a blanket of safety and love.

"Thank you,"

I whisper, still clinging to him.

Brock gently kisses the top of my head and tightens his grip around me. "I'm here for you."

I want to believe I’m not alone anymore. That I’ve found someone who accepts me, treasures me, and listens.

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