Page 55 of Four Stepbrothers for Christmas

The Garcia gang stepped aside, providing a clear path to our vehicle. I could feel their eyes drilling holes into our backs as we made our way, cautious but trying not to seem so. Becca was the first to slide into the car, her hands trembling as she tried to buckle up. I carried Mikey, setting him in the back and buckling him in.

I climbed in after her, my eyes continuously darting to the rear-view mirror to ensure we weren’t being followed. The engine roared to life, and the SUV began its journey out of that godforsaken place.

As we drove, an oppressive silence blanketed the car. The gravity of what had just transpired was palpable. Every one of us was deeply immersed in our own thoughts, processing the risks, the choices, and the narrow escape.

Just when I thought the silence would be unbroken for the entirety of the drive, Mikey groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open, displaying a confused and cloudy expression. The weight in the car shifted, everyone's focus directed toward him.

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

Becca's face, which had previously been a mask of strain and worry, broke into pure relief. She reached over, her fingers brushing back the unruly hair from Mikey's forehead, her voice shaky but filled with affection, "Thank God, Mikey... thank God."

Chapter 35

Becca

The next day, the air in the living room was thick with tension. It felt as though everyone was holding their breath. We were all waiting for any update on Mikey, anxious to know if he was alright. The only sounds were the ticking of the ornate grandfather clock by the doorway and the occasional shuffling of feet.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of footsteps echoed from above. A woman descended the staircase, her presence demanding immediate attention. She was tall with strong posture and an air of authority. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. The white coat she wore highlighted her mocha skin, and her lips were set in a straight line, revealing no emotion. Her aura radiated total competence and control.

Dr. Hendricks was the private MD the guys had hired the night before to check on Mikey so we didn’t have to take him to the hospital. It hadn’t been easy to get a doctor here on Christmas Eve, but the guys had made it happen.

Everyone in the room turned their attention to her, each one silently urging her to share good news. For a moment, her gaze flicked over each of us, as if assessing how to deliver her message. Then she cleared her throat.

"He's still stable," she began, her voice a calming blend of professionalism and warmth. "I've run some tests, and it appears he didn’t ingest a lethal amount. He’ll need a lot of rest, and I'll recommend rehab and counseling… but he should recover."

I hadn't realized I'd been gripping the armrest so tightly until I felt the pain in my fingers. The relief flooded through me was so overwhelming I couldn't contain it. Tears spilled down my cheeks, a torrent of emotions crashing over me all at once: gratitude, love, fear, relief.

The guys were by my side in an instant, their familiar touches wrapping around me like a protective shield. Luke's fingers brushed a stray tear from my cheek, Archer squeezed my hand reassuringly, Isaac whispered soothing words, and Vinnie wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Their collective warmth, the comfort they offered, made the weight of the past hours seem just a bit lighter.

"I don't know how I'd have made it without you guys," I said through my tears. The words felt inadequate to capture the depth of my gratitude, but I hoped they conveyed the essence.

The room had a quiet intensity that seemed to draw the walls a little tighter around us. I could feel it, a thick strain building, holding us in place. It was inescapable.

"I checked on Mikey earlier, when he first woke up," Mom began, her voice soft yet firm, drawing everyone's attention. "Our talk was short, but we agreed he’s going to stay here for the time being. He needs love and family, and you, my dear,” Mom nodded to me. “You need a break from being your brother’s keeper.”

I swallowed, feeling the familiar pang of guilt and worry. But deep down, I knew it was for the best. "That's a good decision," I replied, nodding. "He doesn’t have access to drugs here. The guys made sure of that.”

Sal cleared his throat, signaling a shift in the conversation to the topic I'd been both anticipating and dreading."About this... relationship," he started, his gaze flitting across each of our faces, lingering slightly longer on his sons. "This is not what I envisioned for you," he said, with a hint of sadness.

There was a pause, the weight of his words sinking in. It was clear he had been reflecting on this, perhaps even losing sleep over it.

"When I looked to the future, I imagined each of my sons," his gaze softened as it met Isaac's, silently including him, "with a beautiful, loving woman by his side. I pictured weddings, children – grandkids running around."

Mom took up where Sal left off, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "And for you, Becca," she said, her gaze steady on me. "I hoped for a doting husband, someone who cherished you. And, of course, beautiful grandbabies for me to spoil."

I opened my mouth to reply, to try and assuage their concerns, or maybe just to defend our choices. But before I could get a word out, Mom raised her hand, signaling for me to stop.Vinnie tried to interject as well, but Sal's firm voice cut him off.

"We're not done," he said simply.

Sal released a deep sigh, and for a moment, he looked older, the lines on his face deepening with emotion. "But," he began, his voice gentler now, "while this situation is... unorthodox," he glanced at Mom, who nodded, "Mary and I can't deny what we see."

He looked pointedly at each of his sons, and I could see the love in his eyes. "The way you all look at Becca... the way you move around her, always making sure she's safe and cared for... It's evident. And the way you all looked out for each other during this situation with Mikey, it’s clear to me. You love her. And you," he said, turning to me, "the way you stand with them, support them, it's clear. This is not a fleeting fling for you either."

Mom took a deep breath, her hand searching for Sal's. Finding it, she intertwined her fingers with his, drawing strength from the contact. "All any parent can ask for is for their child to be happy, safe, and loved," she began, her voice quivering ever so slightly.

Sal nodded in agreement, taking over the conversation. "This isn't easy for us, you know," he said, sweeping his gaze over all of us. "The idea of stepsiblings in a romantic relationship, it's unfamiliar. To be frank, it feels wrong."

My heart caught in my throat. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine the worst, that they'd demand we end things or that they'd ostracize us. “But yesterday you said you’d support us,” I reminded them.

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