The Stepbrother // Luke Hemmings

I'm Sorry

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"Luke," I begin, ready to right my wrongs. "Can we talk?"

Eyes blink, taken aback, and Luke nods. "Of course, we can." I can't help but notice how relieved he looks. His face visibly relaxes, eyes softening, and with my hand in his, he guides me up the stairs and over to the porch swing.

Settling down, I fold my legs underneath myself, and tuck my hands into my lap. I glance at Luke, who regards me expectantly. Oh, he's waiting for me to talk. Shit, I didn't rehearse this, should I just say it flat out?

"Whenever you're ready," Luke muses quietly, answering my unasked question.

I'm almost too scared to do anything. To move, to talk, to breathe. Beside me, I feel Luke slowly unwind. He presses the toe of his Converse against the floor, setting us in motion, and then he spreads his long arms across the back of the seat before leaning back to look out at the street. I allow myself a brief moment to examine his profile: upturned nose, sculpted jawline, wisps of soft hair beautifully framing his forehead. He's gorgeous.

This close I could see that he was beginning to grow facial hair, and my stomach flutters. In the short three months that I had known Luke, so much had changed. Actually, everything had changed. How could someone that I could hardly stand to be around for longer than a mere minute become someone that I'd do literally anything to never part with?

It was overwhelming, exhausting, so. fucking. scary. But, at the same time, comforting? I needed him, but more importantly, I needed him to know that I needed him. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I shift so that I'm facing him, and whisper, "Luke, I'm sorry."

He turns and blinks at me in surprise. "Sorry? For what?"

"For everything," I sigh. "All of it. Everything I've done intentionally and unintentionally that hurt you this summer. Sometimes I don't realize how selfish and narcissistic I can be and for that, I apologize."

Cautious, cobalt-colored eyes search mine, and after a beat, Luke leans forward and tucks my hair behind my ear. His fingers find my chin and he tilts my face up, looking down at me. "Annie, don't apologize."

Oh, Luke.

"No, Luke, I need to take accountability. I—" His thumb traces against my lower lip as I talk, and my thoughts instantly become a fuzzy mess. No, he has to stop this, or I'll never say what I need to say. Reaching up, I take his hand in mine and place it on my knee, admonishingly shaking my head. Luke looks vaguely amused, but without the porch light, it's hard to tell. I press on, "So, listen. I uh, I talked to Calum tonight."

His eyes suddenly turn wary. "Did you?"

"Yes," I say, deciding not to tell him about Calum's unintentional admission about being sent over. "He helped me put a lot of things in perspective."

"Did he?" Luke rephrases.

"Yes."

"What kind of things."

I swallow. "You and me. Us. The way I've treated you."

Luke's mouth flattens into a hard line and he hesitates. Turning away from me, he focuses his eyes back on the street. "Cal likes to sometimes play therapist, he thinks he knows what's best for everyone. You don't need to listen to him."

"But, he was right," I admit.

His brow creases.

I take another deep breath and finally say the words that I should've said a long time ago. "I've never thought I would be able to treat you as badly as I did and for that, I'm sorry, Luke. I'm so so sorry. Our relationship is the most valuable thing I have right now and I just can't lose that. I ... I can't lose you."