The Stepbrother // Luke Hemmings

I'm Sorry

A knot tightens in my throat at the thought and suddenly, I feel like crying. Frantic, I pause and attempt to fight the urge by taking a deep, shaky breath. But it's no use. My chest is tight and my throat is so uncomfortably dry, that when I start to speak, tears instantly trickle down my cheeks.

"Please, forgive me, Luke. I just ... I just want another chance." I sniffle, "I can't lose you, I need you."

"Are you crazy, Annie?" Luke questions gently, ducking his head so that I'm forced to meet his gaze. "Come here." Reaching forward, he settles his hands at my hips and pulls me into his lap so that I'm straddling him. Arms snake around the small of my back, pressing me tighter against him, and he leans down and runs his nose down the length of mine. When he parts his mouth to speak, I feel his breath warm against my lips. "You don't even know what you mean to me."

His embrace is warm, protective, affectionate, everything I've wanted and needed. I put my arms around him and bury my face into his neck, sniffling softly as I will my tears to subside. But then Luke's hands slide up to rest at my waist, and he whispers, "I fully intend to spend the rest of my life with you, baby," and just like that, the tears just keep coming.

Soft lips brush across my temple, leaving delicate and sweet kisses in their wake. Part of me wants to turn and respond, but mostly I just want to be held. I don't know how long we sit like this, it seems like forever, but the sound of the front door opening tears us away from our bubble. The screen door pushes open, and someone takes a clumsy backward step out the door.

"Oh, hey," Bryana calls. "Thought you guys might've taken off." She's barefaced, wearing a baseball hat and tiny yoga shorts, and cradling a tower of Tupperware containers against her chest. "The kitchen is clean and the dishes are done. We are officially off the clock."

Luke doesn't make a move to let me go. Instead, he pulls me closer against him and tips his chin at her in acknowledgment. "Feeding the homeless?"

Bryana pauses then, accessing the situation in front of her, and Luke and I watch as a slow, pleased smirk spreads across her face. Carefully, she lets the screen door fall into place and steps out onto the porch, sizing us up. "Well, well, well."

My head falls into Luke's chest, coy.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Luke comments, jokingly.

"Oh honey, this memory is photographic." She laughs. "And, to answer your question, no. I've done enough civic duties for the day. Kutcher asked for leftovers, said it couldn't wait."

Oh gosh, Ashton. I hadn't spoken to him in weeks, not with the bout and bustle of wedding planning. Guilt creeps up my throat and I sit up in Luke arms, "Bry, can you please tell hi—"

"I already got you covered," Eyes roll playfully. "He understands, but also, he's your friend. You oughta' call him."

"I will." I nod shyly, "And, Bry, about earlier ... I'm sorry."

"Oh, no. You're gonna need to do a little more groveling than that." She shifts containers to one arm and twirls my car keys around her pointer finger. "But for now, your car will suffice."

"Fair," I laugh.

"Alright, kiddos. Goodnight."

Luke peeks around me, "Goodnight?"

"Uh, yeah. Don't ... uh ... wait up for me." She mumbles. Then, something out of this world happens: Bryana blushes.

I gasp, Luke mutters, "Wow", and Bryana practically flies down the stairs and over to the car.

When she pulls off, I turn around facing Luke and we both burst out in laughter. Luke looks horrified and also, a little impressed. He scoffs, "How did Ashely manage that?"

"Hey," I laugh, playfully swatting at his cheek. "Don't start."

Arms fly up, shielding himself, and he laughs. "OK, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

We settle down and suddenly, it's just us. Empty street, empty house.

I can't lie.

All of me wants to kiss him hard enough to make us both disappear.

Breathlessly, I lean into him. "Do you forgive me?"

Luke's tongue slides over his lips and gently, he clears his throat. It's like he's preparing for the inevitable. Or, at least, I hope he is. "Do you even have to ask?"

My eyes trail to his goosebump-covered collarbone, the pale freckle at the corner of his full lips, and lastly his ocean eyes. "I want to hear you say it."

"I forgive you, Annie. Always. There's nothing you can do that'll ever be unforgivable in my eyes."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes."

There's just one more thing I have to say. Only, I'm scared and I don't want to complicate things any further for us. So, instead, I let my eyes flutter close and press myself completely against him; allowing my kiss to say it for me.

—

Anyone happy they finally made up? Because, I am! 

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