Page 101 of Hey, Stepbro

"Thanks, Brock," I say, blushing at how well he knows me already. My cheeks warm as I take a bite of one of the ten brownies on my plate, savoring the creamy chocolatey taste. Wow. Just wow. Talk about perfect.

I look up to see Brock gazing dreamily into my eyes, his own eyes reflecting the sunlit room.

"Did you know," he begins, leaning forward and resting his chin on one hand, "that when I first met you, I thought you were the most intriguing and mysterious person I'd ever seen. And now that we're together, I can't stop thinking about how lucky I am to have you."

"You're making me blush."

"I love it when you blush. It makes you even cuter."

I’m filled with a sense of awe. Even amidst the noise and chaos of the busy café, all I can focus on is Brock and the way he makes me feel so special and loved. A fuzzy warmth envelops me like a blanket, and for once in my life, I'm not worried about what other people think.

All that matters is us.

As I finish the last bite of my brownie, Brock clears his throat and meets my gaze with a seriousness that catches me off guard. "You know, Blakely," he says, his blue eyes locking onto mine. "I wanted to thank you for all your support with football. Coach says my playing is more focused than ever, and I have a good chance of getting drafted by a top team."

His words give me pause. I reach out to hold his hands across the table. They're so warm and strong, like him. My voice trembles as I respond, "I'm so proud of you for kicking ass on the field."

"It's because of you. Your love and support mean everything."

My vision blurs as tears threaten to spill over, and I blink them back rapidly. Why does he have to be so amazing? Laughter bubbles up in my chest, mingling with the emotion, and I shake my head.

"Please don't cry," he pleads gently, giving my hands a reassuring squeeze. "I wanted to let you know how much it means to me."

I sniffle, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "You make me so happy. I never thought I'd find someone like you."

"Neither did I. But here we are, and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Brock's phone buzzes on the table, interrupting our tender moment. He glances down at the screen and chuckles.

"It's my dad," he says, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"What does he want?"

"Here, read it."

He hands me his phone as if he’s letting me in on a secret part of his life.

RealDad:Hey, son! Just wanted to wish you and Blakely a fantastic day. Remember to thank the members of the LGBTQ+ community who came before you both. Their courage and strength allow you to be so open with your love. Love, Dad.

"Your dad is so sweet," I choke out, unable to hold back my tears any longer.

"He really is." Brock pulls me into a hug. "And he's right, you know. We're lucky to be able to show our love so openly because of those who fought for our rights."

I bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. "I never thought I'd find someone like you. Or have a family that would support us like this."

"Neither did I. But here we are, and I wouldn't change a thing."

As we sit there in each other's embrace, surrounded by the chatter and clatter of the busy café, I think about how truly fortunate I am. Not only because I found my soulmate in Brock, but also because we have the support and love of our family. It's a blessing that I will never take for granted, and a reminder to always be grateful for those who came before us, paving the way for us to love without fear.

Brock takes my hand and leads me out of the café, the autumn chill greeting us as we step outside. We walk toward a park near campus, and I notice the colorful leaves that have fallen from the trees, creating a vibrant carpet beneath our feet. The sky above us seems to stretch endlessly, dotted with clouds drifting lazily over the water.

"Hard to believe Halloween is right around the corner," I remark, looking up at the swirling clouds above. "And then it'll be snowing before we know it."

"Right? Time flies when you're having fun." Brock gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "And speaking of snow, what do you usually do for Christmas?"

My mind fills with images of cozy nights spent by the fireplace, reading romance novels and cuddling with my pets.

But instead of answering right away, I turn the question back on him. "What about you? Any special traditions?"