Page 93 of Hey, Stepbro

"Even if it meant giving up your dream?" Blakely's voice is barely a whisper, filled with vulnerability.

"I'd give up the fucking Superbowl for you." I tilt his chin up, forcing him to look me in the eye. "Besides—you, Blakely, are my dream come true."

Blakely's breath catches, and his eyes well up with fresh tears. This time, they're tears of joy. He lunges forward, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss that seems to last an eternity.

As we break apart, gasping for breath, I smile. "You know what?" I say, my heart pounding with happiness and adrenaline. "I think this is the best night of my life."

Blakely snuggles into my side as we stare at the stars above. "Mine too."

CHAPTER29

BLAKELY

The sizzle of butter on the hot griddle fills the kitchen as I stand beside my dad, watching him expertly pour pancake batter onto the heated surface. The comforting smell of warm, browning pancakes wafts through the air, blending with the rich aroma of fresh coffee brewing nearby. My stomach eagerly responds to the mouthwatering scents, while love flowers inside my heart, knowing we're making breakfast for Brock.

"Okay, your turn." Dad hands me the ladle filled with batter. "Make sure you get a good circle going."

"Got it, Dad."

I concentrate intently as I take the ladle from him and carefully pour the batter onto the griddle. The moment it hits the hot surface, it hisses and pops like tiny fireworks, bringing a smile to my face.

"Nice job, kiddo," Dad beams, his eyes filled with pride.

"By the way," he says, leaning against the kitchen counter, "I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you for helping Brock discover who he is. It's not easy to come out of the closet, even when your dad's gay and you're surrounded by accepting people."

"Thanks," I say, my cheeks heating up from his praise. I take a deep breath, deciding to share something that's been on my mind. "Brock actually went with me to visit Mom's grave the other day."

Dad's eyes soften, and he steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. "That means a lot. She would have loved Brock, and I know she'd be so happy to see how close you two have become."

I pause my pancake-making to give Dad a quick hug. As we embrace, thoughts of Brock fill my mind—his strong arms wrapped around me, the warmth in his blue eyes, and the safety that encompasses me in his presence. The realization that he truly cares about me, enough to share in visiting my mom's grave, only strengthens my love for him.

"I appreciate your understanding," I murmur, fighting back tears.

"Of course. I love you both, and I'll always support you," he replies, giving me one last squeeze before releasing me.

Dad pulls me into a tighter hug, his eyes misty. "I'm so glad Brock is helping you process your mom's death," he says earnestly. The warmth of his embrace is comforting, but I can't help being a little self-conscious as I hear footsteps approaching.

"Morning, guys," Brock's voice rumbles.

I glance over Dad's shoulder to see Brock sauntering into the kitchen wearing nothing but his underpants.

Oh. My. God.

This isn’t real life.

Is it?

My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight of his chiseled abs, broad shoulders, and powerful thighs. I groan inwardly, trying to ignore the heat pooling in my lower stomach.

"Right on time for breakfast." Dad releases me from the hug, completely unfazed by Brock's state of undress. I, however, can't seem to tear my eyes away from the sexy vision before me.

"Smells amazing in here." Brock gives me a little wink that sends shivers down my spine.

I try to focus on the task at hand instead of letting my thoughts wander into inappropriate territory.

I turn back to the pancakes on the stovetop. "We're almost done here." My morning tiredness fades with every flip of the pancake, keenly aware of Brock's presence behind me.

"Need any help?" His body heat radiates towards me, and it takes all my willpower not to reach out and touch him.

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