Page 116 of Hey, Stepbro

Two years later

The energy in the stadium is electric, as fans from both Riverside and Cedar Rapids cheer with thunderous applause. The vibrations of the excitement course through me as the night stars twinkle overhead. Secretly wearing Brock's old Rawdogs jersey under my jacket, my fingers brush against the soft fabric, a reminder of our love.

Lost in thought for a moment, I marvel at our incredible journey together these past two years. As Brock approaches graduation from Riverside College next semester, I'm beyond proud of him for being drafted onto the Iowa Goldfinches. I love the thought of attending his pro games, cheering him on from the sidelines. We've even begun discussing the possibility of starting a family—Brock's eyes light up when he talks about teaching a little boy to play football.

The case against Nightingale Pharmaceuticals reached a riveting conclusion this past week. The evidence against their awful business practices proved to be too much, and the judge sided with us. Thousands of kids whose parents grew addicted to the drugs Nightingale marketed for depression will find justice.

Nightingale Pharmaceuticals tried to file bankruptcy, but after Nathaniel testified that they were potentially hiding billions of dollars' worth of assets in overseas accounts, the judge ordered a more thorough investigation. Congress passed a law that prohibited pharmaceutical companies from filing bankruptcy to get out of paying settlements, and they were ordered to cough up eight hundred million dollars in damages. It’s one of the largest settlements in American history.

Brock says that the fact that I took the stand helped. I told the court about my mother’s passing and how it affected me. I shared how it made me feel to hold her hand as the life drained out of her in the hospital, and I let everyone know that the most vivid memory I have of her addiction was the orange pill bottle on her nightstand with the Nightingale label.

Nightingale is going to pay every single person they hurt millions of dollars. It’s the least they can do for wrecking our lives.

The intensity of the skyrocketing game snaps me back to the present. Brock, in full control, barks out a series of commands, expertly directing his teammates. The Rawdogs line up, Brock in the quarterback position, ready to make their move against Cedar Rapids' defense.

"Blue 42. Blue 42."

Brock scans the field. I watch, holding my breath, as he takes the snap and immediately drops back into the pocket. The Cedar Rapids' defenders swarm like hungry sharks, but the Rawdogs' offensive line holds them at bay, giving Brock enough time to plan out his attack.

In a split-second decision, Brock spots an open receiver downfield and lets the ball fly. It soars through the air like a comet, arcing gracefully toward its target. My chest tightens as I watch, silently willing the football to find its mark.

"Go, go, go."

The crowd roars as Brock's pass connects with the receiver, who deftly sidesteps a Cedar Rapids' defender and sprints toward the end zone.

Touchdown.

I leap to my feet, clapping and hollering at the top of my lungs. The Rawdogs are now in the lead, and it's all thanks to my amazing boyfriend.

"Did you see that pass?" I turn to Stella, my face flushed with exhilaration. "Brock is amazing."

"Keep it in your pants." She smirks at my enthusiasm. But she knows better than anyone how much Brock means to me, so I forgive her snark.

Stella nudges me with her elbow. "You've really hit the jackpot with that one. Not only is he gorgeous, but he's going pro too."

I’m incredibly lucky to have found someone like Brock. He truly is the whole package: smart, swoony, loyal, and duh—crazy talented. My heart swells with pride.

"Tell me about it. Sometimes, I can't believe he's actually mine."

"Believe it, honey." She playfully slaps my shoulder. "And don't you dare let that man go."

"Trust me, I won't."

My eyes never leave Brock. We've come such a long way together, and I can't imagine life without him. Watching him down there, so confident and in control, fills me with a sense of wonder and gratitude.

"Ugh, look at those muscles." Stella fans herself with her hand. "Is it hot out here or is it Brock?"

I roll my eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"I call it like I see it." She leans back in her seat. "You two are perfect for each other. It's almost sickening how cute you are."

"Thanks. I'm so proud of him, you know? He's worked so hard to get here."

"Deservedly so."

As the game goes on, I imagine my future with Brock—attending his games, supporting his pro career, and maybe even starting a family one day. With every play, every cheer, and every moment, it becomes clearer that I wouldn't want it any other way.

All at once, the dynamics change. My heart leaps into my throat as the Rawdogs' defense struggles against Cedar Rapids' offense.