SCORE (A Stepbrother Sports Romance)(11)

“I’m so sorry, 'Lyssa,” I said, angry at Brad for treating her like that. She deserved so much better.

“I’m just tired of guys not liking actually me and only wanting to sleep together,” she said, her voice hollow and sad.

I bit my lip against the instinctive assurances and the smoldering anger, wanting to tell her that I liked her—and maybe more—but I kept my mouth shut. I helped her inside and upstairs.

Once we were in her bedroom, she sat down. She looked up at me. “Blake, can you stay with me tonight?” Her eyes stared at me, desperate and pleading. She looked so vulnerable and so helpless that I couldn’t leave her. So I crawled into the bed with her, holding her tightly as she cried herself to sleep.

As I laid awake, holding her in my arms and watching her innocent face as she slept, I felt something stir inside of me. No one had ever made me feel so protective—bordering on possessive—and I vowed to myself that I would make it my responsibility to make sure no one ever hurt her again.

“You deserve so much better,” I whispered to her, kissing her forehead lightly before falling asleep.





Alyssa



I jerked awake, the sunlight pouring through the window hurting my eyes. I was immediately aware of strong, warm arms around me, and I lifted my head. Blake held me close, even though he was fast asleep. I sat up quickly, my body immediately cold without his next to mine. Worried that our parents might notice, I quickly shook him awake. He opened his eyes, and I clambered out of the bed, hissing, “Hey, you have to get out of here.”

He rolled out of my bed and slumped to his bedroom without a word, and I went into my bathroom to take a much-needed shower. I struggled with a hollow, empty feeling inside myself. Being held so comfortingly had made me feel so safe, and I felt a deep longing to be back in his arms…almost as if I belonged there.

After an hour, I headed downstairs to find my father and Debbie in the living room. I said a quick good morning and went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

I looked at my phone for the first time in twelve hours. I had a bunch of unanswered texts from Maggie. I simply texted her back, Meet up for lunch to talk? I made my coffee as I waited for her to reply, and when she did, I grabbed my car keys, grateful to get out of the house without having to face Blake. I needed time to deal with my budding emotions, and I didn’t know how to interpret his actions. Was he just being protective like a brother? The way he held me last night made me think otherwise.

I was crunching on a salad as Maggie drilled me with questions. My body was grateful for the food, and my headache faded. “Look, I’m just done with guys for a while,” I said to her after she ranted for twenty minutes about what had happened between Brad and me.

“I don’t blame you,” she agreed, then asked curiously, “So how did you get home?”

Staring intently at my salad, I said, “Blake was there. I rode home with him.”

“Wasn’t he with his girlfriend?” Maggie asked, disgust in her voice.

Maggie had hated Brittney since we were in high school together. Brittney had been horrible to me all senior year, and she was always making nasty comments. I was over it, but Maggie tended to be a little more dramatic than me.

I thought about the party, remembering that Blake was with Brittney at the beginning and that they had seemed pretty close, dancing together and her clinging onto him throughout the night. I wondered if they had gotten into an argument or something. I shook my head and told Maggie, “I don’t really remember what happened. It was late, and I wasn’t exactly sober.”

Maggie and I finished lunch and headed to the mall to do some shopping. I didn’t really need anything, but I wanted to avoid going home for as long as possible. We were walking around the mall when my phone vibrated with a text message from my father. Family dinner. Be home by 6.

With a sigh, I told Maggie we had to go soon, and I had a nagging feeling in my stomach as I drove home. I walked in the house, greeting my father and Debbie, and took my bags upstairs. I quickly changed and headed back down.

“So, where we going?” I asked, joining them, noticing Blake still wasn’t downstairs.

“Your father made reservations at a new restaurant downtown,” Debbie said, smiling at him.

“Great.” Our traipsing round the mall had made me hungry. As casually as possible, I asked, “Is Blake joining us?”

“Absolutely.” A snarky voice came from behind me. I whipped around to see Blake descending the stairs.

“Alrighty then,” Dad said, and we followed him outside and piled into his SUV.

I spent the long ride to the restaurant contemplating whether or not I should talk to Blake about last night. We seemed to have a really bad habit of ignoring the things we did and not talking about them. Obviously, this wasn’t working, and we kept finding ourselves in the same confusing, hazy situations, patching over everything and not dealing with our emotions. It didn’t feel clever or healthy, so I decided I would try and talk to him after dinner, a heavy knot roiling in my stomach just thinking about it. Getting everything out in the open would put everyone back in the place they belonged.

After a long dinner of catching up with my father and Debbie, I was relieved to finally get home. I thanked Dad for dinner and went upstairs, my hands clammy and a little shaky at the prospect of talking to Blake. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on his door, and he yelled for me to come in.