Page 71 of Hey, Stepbro

"Hey, Brock?" Blakely says, softly.

"Yeah?"

"Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me… no matter what happens, you'll always be there for me." His green eyes meet mine, filled with vulnerability and hope. "Unlike Mom."

"I promise. No matter what, I'll always be by your side."

"Thank you." He rests his head on my shoulder.

The apple pie arrives, along with two cups of steaming hot cocoa, which was thoughtful of the waitress. We dig into the dessert, enjoying the mix of tart apples, sweet cinnamon, and flaky crust. Sharing this moment with Blakely, it feels as if the storm outside can't touch us at all.

The storm of Blakely's past can't hurt him, either. It must be so tough to lose your mother as a teenager, and I wish I could comfort him with something more than food.

Leaning in, I bring my lips to his.

"Remember, I'm here for you," I whisper against his lips before gently joining our mouths. The heat of the kiss seems to radiate throughout the entire restaurant, enveloping us in a renewed sense of comfort.

Blakely's eyes flutter closed as he leans into me, his hand coming up to rest on my cheek. It feels like the perfect combination of sweet and savory, like the apple pie we're sharing.

As we pull away, our eyes meet, and I see the gratitude shining in Blakely's gaze. "Thank you for everything."

"Of course. And remember, I'llalwaysbe here for you. No matter what."

His eyes shimmer with unshed tears. I know that, despite the pain of his past, we're building something beautiful together.

With each shared moment, each comforting touch, and each whispered promise, we're creating a bond that can withstand any storm—whether it's outside or deep within our hearts.

As we finish our meal, I pay the bill, and we leave the restaurant, hand in hand. The rain has let up, but the air is still misty and cool. It gives me hope. Hope for our future. Hope for our love.

CHAPTER22

BLAKELY

Ilounge on the living room couch, feeling lighter than I have all week. Visiting Mom's grave with Brock was difficult, but it brought me a sense of closure I didn't know I needed.

"Hey, Blakely." Brock bursts through the front door, sweat glistening on his bulging muscles after football practice. His blue eyes meet mine, and my heart skips a beat. "You look like you're in a good mood."

God. Damn.

Brock looks... amazing. There's no other way to put it.

He stands in the living room, his muscles bulging with power and intensity. My gaze lingers on his body, taking in the sweat-soaked jersey that hugs his sculpted frame.

With each breath he takes, his biceps flex and bulge, his abs ripple. His thick thighs look like they could crush anything in their path.

Despite the familiar stirring in my loins, I try to keep my composure, not wanting to seem too eager or desperate. I watch as Brock ticks his head down to stare at me, his eyes meeting mine in a smoldering gaze that makes my heart skip a beat.

As Brock walks towards me, still wearing his cleats and holding his helmet in hand, I take a deep breath, ready to spread for him this damn second if he asks.

"Yeah," I admit, my smile widening. "Visiting Mom's grave helped a lot. Thanks for coming with me."

He ruffles my hair affectionately. "You needed that. And I bet the soup didn’t hurt, either."

As I preen under his touch, the scent of his musky sweat fills my nostrils, igniting a stirring in my lower body. I seek to suppress the lustful thoughts that threaten to invade my mind, but they persist despite my efforts. After all, how could I not be attracted to my gorgeous, caring stepbrother?

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