Stepbrother: Scar Tissue - the Complete Serial (An Alpha Stepbrother Romance)

by Lillian Thorne

  Look at me. Droning on and on. I told Luke I’d only be a few minutes, but I’ve been at it for nearly an hour! He’s still out there on the veranda, but I’m sure he’s wondering what’s taking me so long.

  I guess I should wrap it up. And I will because I just remembered the incredible meal Luke has in store for us. There’s this sushi restaurant that you have to reserve a spot months in advance. A friend of his at work (who made the initial reservation) couldn’t make it, so he offered it to Luke a few weeks ago. I jumped at the chance. I’ve never had sushi before, but lately I’ve been adamant about trying something new as often as possible. It’s refreshing and makes me feel alive, knowing that there is still so much to do, so much to learn about and live.

  I’ve been painting a lot lately and recently I’ve been enthralled by the Japanese art and culture. The cherry blossoms are in bloom and I pestered Luke until he finally agreed to take me. We saw them today! They were even more beautiful than I could imagine. I can die happy.

  Honestly, I don’t know how this day could get any better. But I am curious about what else he has in store for me.

  He’s been secretive about everything else we’re going to do on this trip (what else is new?), but I know it will be fun either way. Luke always knows what I like, and I haven’t been disappointed yet.

  Well, I guess that’s it for now! Off for some (hopefully) delicious sushi! Half a year wait? It better be…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  LUKE

  WHEN I THINK ABOUT Leah, I think of her resiliency more than anything else. I’ve never known a stronger person—someone who can endure so many painful experiences but still bounce back with a smile. I can feel my own mouth turn into a smile as I picture her smiling face.

  It’s a playful smile, with a childlike quality to it—innocent. I can picture the way she tilts her head, the right side of her mouth beginning to curl as she looks away, bashful yet beautiful. A soft pink hue begins to color her cheeks just before she looks up at me. Her eyebrows shoot up as the left corner of her mouth catches up with her right, forming her delicate and sweet smile.

  In moments like this, I’m powerless. I have no other option but to wrap my arms around her, pull her into me, and kiss her. She forces me to. Honest.

  I’m standing out on our suite’s veranda, watching the mass of cars and people swarm the Tokyo streets below. We’ve been in Japan for a few days, seeing some of the sights—Mount Fuji is absolutely stunning—and eating more fresh seafood than you can imagine. Leah’s behind me, writing a journal entry. She’s been writing in that journal of hers religiously, but she won’t share anything she’s written and that’s okay.

  We all have our own secrets, things we want to keep private. It’s human nature.

  She tells me it’s to help with the healing process. It seems to be working. Seeing her happy makes me happy.

  This high in the sky, the sounds of the city merge into a low hum as they filter up to me. It’s relaxing, this birds-eye view of things, and I’m completely relaxed. My mind is clear of distractions and I can think.

  And lately, I’ve been thinking about us—Leah and I. Us—the dreaded “us.” The “us” that, until now, I thought I’d never want. Why would I want to settle down when there are so many beautiful women out there? I could have a new one each night, and before Leah, I did.

  But, things change; people change. That style of living can be exciting for a time, but it wears you down. After everything I’ve been through with Leah, I’ve gained a much needed, different perspective on my life. My goals have shifted. I want other things. Well, one thing: Leah.

  I take a small black box from my pocket. It’s not very large—it doesn’t need to be to hold what’s inside. It’s iconic, the box. Take one out anywhere and you’ll know what’s inside. It might look different, not what you’d expect, but the message and meaning it carries remains the same.

  For me, it means farewell to the life I used to lead. And not in a bad way. I’m not dragging my feet, longing for the bachelor life. Quite the opposite.

  It’s an amicable parting of ways from a life that no longer suits me. We’ve grown apart these past few months and I need something else, someone else. Onward and upward to new and greater things.

  My fingers trace the exterior of the black box. The box springs open without much effort and I glance at its contents one last time. It’s still there, the ring. I agonized for months over which ring would be perfect. Yes, I’ve known Leah was the one for a while now. I wanted the ring to be perfect. I went with something classic, elegant, something simple yet sophisticated. I know she’s going to love it.

  I’ve had the ring for a few months now, held in my pocket, waiting for the perfect moment.

  But is there a perfect moment?

  The more I think about it, the more I realize that there isn’t a perfect moment; that you could spend your entire life waiting for it, waiting for all the planets to align and angels to descend from heaven, heralding the moment as perfect, only to realize that your life passed you by; that you spent more time waiting—analyzing every detail and situation—than you did living.

  No. I don’t believe there are perfect moments, and if there are, I doubt anyone would be able to recognize one. But I believe we can come close to making them ourselves. And I think that’s a beautiful thing.

  I can hear the clack of Leah’s heels against the concrete as she walks across the veranda. I close the box and slip it back into my pocket just before she wraps her arms around my waist.

  “I’m sorry it took so long. I got carried away, I guess.” Her voice is sweet and soft and she smells like jasmine and lavender. She rests her head against my back.

  “Not a problem.” I smile. “It’s nice out here.” I can feel her head lift from my back as she looks out from where we’re standing. The Tokyo skyline is slowly swallowing the blood-orange sun, leaving the sky blotted with swaths of pinks, oranges, and reds.

  She steps beside me, one arm still wrapped around my waist. I place my left hand along the small of her back and watch her as she gazes at the setting sun. Stray tendrils of her chestnut curls flutter against her cheek from the gentle breeze and her skin looks golden in the sunlight.

  “Have you ever seen something so beautiful before?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?” She hasn’t taken her eyes off the sunset and her voice seems to drift to me, carried by light breeze. I lift my hand from the small of her back, brush the stray tendril off her face, push it behind her ear and tell her, “You.”

  She snorts and shakes her head.

  “That’s so cheesy.” She’s quiet for a moment but then says, “I like it, though. And I like this. Us. Watching the sunset. Everything about it. It’s more than I could ask for. It’s—”

  “Perfect,” I interject as I finger the box in my pocket.

  My mind goes blank. All I see is Leah beautiful face looking down at me as I kneel before her, her wrapped in mine. I ask her the one question I’ll never ask another person again.

  And through a tearful smile, she responds with a single, beautiful word.

  “Yes.”

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. It means a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have the time, please consider leaving an honest review. I would love to hear what you liked (or didn’t like!) about the story.

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