The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Breaking Point

He didn’t call or text. Three days of silence stretched after that morning in the study, three days where I found myself thinking about him constantly, at the worst possible moments... in the middle of lectures, in the shower, lying awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word he’d said.

When my mother called to invite me for Friday dinner, my stomach dropped.

"You’ll come, won’t you?" she asked, bright and hopeful. "James is making his famous roast chicken."

"Of course," I said, already dreading and anticipating it in equal measure.

I spent those three days telling myself I’d be perfectly composed by the time I saw him again, that whatever had almost happened in that study could stay buried beneath enough distance and denial. I almost believed it until Friday evening arrived and I found myself standing in front of my closet far longer than necessary, pretending the extra care had nothing to do with a certain someone who would be sitting across the table from me.

I was lying to myself. I knew it the whole time.

My mother opened the door before I even knocked, her face lighting up the second she saw me.

"There she is," she said, pulling me into a tight hug. "I’ve missed you, sweetheart. Come in. Dinner’s almost ready."

James appeared behind her with his arms full of grocery bags. I insisted on carrying a few inside, and he ushered me toward the kitchen, where the smell of roasting chicken and something sweet baking filled the house.

I hadn’t even set the bags down when I heard his voice.

"You’re going to drop those."

I turned.

Lucian stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled to his forearms, watching me with an intensity that made three days of careful denial crumble in an instant.

"I’ve got it," I said.

"I know you do." He took the heaviest bag anyway, his fingers brushing mine. "You look beautiful tonight, Eliora. Breathtaking, actually."

Heat rushed into my cheeks.

"Stop," I muttered.

"I mean it," he replied, holding my gaze a heartbeat too long before my mother called from the dining room. He stepped back, and the moment slipped away.

Keep your head down, I told myself as I followed him to the table.

It didn’t work.

⸻

Dinner was warm on the surface. James and my mother debated honeymoon destinations over glasses of wine.

"Santorini," my mother said. "Or the Amalfi Coast."

"I want somewhere with you," James replied, kissing her forehead.

She laughed and lightly swatted his arm.

I smiled, genuinely happy for them... then something nudged my foot beneath the table.

Lucian looked completely innocent as he cut into his chicken, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

I nudged him back.

A second later, he nudged me again.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

"What’s so funny?" my mother asked, catching my smile.

"Nothing," I answered quickly. "I’m just happy for you two."

She smiled, apparently satisfied, then looked briefly between Lucian and me before turning back to James.

Under the table, Lucian’s foot found mine again.

This time, it stayed there.

I let it.

⸻

Not long after dinner, I excused myself.

"I just need a little fresh air," I told my mother.

She nodded without suspicion.

I had barely stepped into the garden when the back door opened behind me.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone," Lucian said. "It’s cold."

"I needed to talk to you."

I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around myself more from nerves than the evening chill.

"I’ve been thinking about what happened for three days," I admitted. "The way I reacted... I was wrong."

He watched me quietly.

"You were trying to help me," I continued. "I took it the wrong way. I was angry, and I took all of it out on you. I should have thanked you before I accused you of trying to control me."

The tension in his shoulders eased.

"You don’t owe me an apology," he said softly.

"I think I do."

He stepped closer.

"Come here."

I let him close the distance, his hand resting gently against my waist.

"There’s something I still don’t understand," I said. "Why did you pay him? Fifteen thousand dollars is a lot of money."

He was silent for several seconds.

When he finally spoke, there was nothing guarded left in his voice.

"I’m not going to lie to you anymore, Eliora." His eyes never left mine. "I love you."

My breath caught.

"I love you," he repeated. "I think about you every minute of every day. I’ve dated other people, but I have never felt anything close to this. Not once."

"Lucian..."

"I’ve loved you since the day we met in that lab," he confessed. "I fought it. I ignored it. I tried convincing myself it would disappear. Because I’ve been falling for you since the moment you pulled that sheet back and looked at me like I was still alive. Fate put you in that room, Eliora. I’ve tried fighting it every day... but I can’t anymore."

His expression softened."It never did."

"This is wrong," I whispered.

"I know."

"We’re stepsiblings."

"I know that too."

"Then why are you saying this?"

"Because pretending stopped working." He gave a faint, almost helpless smile. "The harder I tried to forget you, the more impossible it became."

I looked away, trying to steady my breathing.

"I think..." I swallowed. "I think I love you too."

The words escaped before I could stop them.

"I can’t stop thinking about you either. But..."

"But what?" he asked gently.

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

There wasn’t a reason left that my heart still believed.

Silence settled between us.

He moved a little closer.

I didn’t move away.

His hand rose slowly, giving me every chance to stop him, his fingertips resting lightly beneath my chin.

His eyes drifted to my lips seductively before returning to mine.

The look in them made my heartbeat stumble.

He leaned in... then paused.

Waiting.

Giving me the choice.

I closed the distance.

Our lips met in a slow, tentative kiss, one that lingered just long enough for every unspoken feeling between us to finally surface. When I kissed him back, I felt him relax.

My fingers curled lightly around the front of his shirt as he held me carefully, as though afraid I’d disappear if he held on too tightly.

When we finally pulled apart, I rested my hand against his chest, needing a little space to think.

"This is so wrong," I whispered.

"I know," he replied quietly.

"If our parents ever find out..."

"Then we’ll tell them when we’re ready," he said. "Not before."

A nervous laugh escaped me.

"You make that sound so easy."

"It isn’t." His thumb brushed lightly against my hand. "Nothing about this is easy."

He smiled sadly.

"But I’d rather face something impossible with you than spend another day pretending I don’t love you."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

My phone buzzed.

Mom.

"I have to go," I said reluctantly. "She’ll come looking for us."

"Eliora."

He caught my hand gently before I turned away.

"This isn’t over."

I met his eyes and smiled despite myself.

"No," I said softly.

"It isn’t."

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