My Jealous Alpha Stepbrother
Chapter 82

Josie

My legs feel weak as I move from behind the bleachers back to the front. Tarryn is nowhere to be seen. Did she go to the bathroom? Either way, I sway slightly and then crash forward when my knees buckle.

I can’t remember what got me so dizzy, but I’m grateful when two strong hands grab my arms to steady me. I’m lifted up, and a waft of aftershave washes over me. It smells like heaven.

“You okay?”

I lift my eyes while tiredly resting my hands over some white fabric stretching over a broad chest—Misha’s. He is worriedly glancing down at me from his towering height and still holding my arms.

At first, I consider lying and saying I’m fine, but… this is my mate, and I’m just… exhausted. I’m jealous of Misha, but it’s hardly his fault.

“No… I’m not fine…” I sigh. “And I’m sorry.”

Misha blinks to signal he is confused. “For what?”

I look up at him. His eyes, red and blue, soothes some of the anxiety within me. He has a bit of stubble on his square-shaped face, his nose is big, and my gaze is drawn to his lips that form a hesitant smile.

He is attractive. My heart is positively singing, and I blush, realizing I’m staring at him. I look down from his face, only to stare into the muscles outlined in his t-shirt instead. Goddamn it, give me a break!

Somehow, I replace my voice. “I’m sorry for… being difficult.”

To my surprise, Misha doesn’t laugh like I thought he would. Instead, he peers down at me and seems… hopeful? He looks as if I’m telling him everything he has been dreaming of hearing, which makes me feel guilty about not doing it sooner.

“Go on,” he says and quickly adds. “If you want to, that is.”

Ugh, my heart. Why is Misha so considerate? I don’t deserve it, and my chest constricts. It feels like I have a growing hole in it. Now I’m bleeding from it because I’m a bastard, and Misha is a saint.

I grimace. “I’ve been jealous of you since you won,” better just be honest about that, right? I don’t dare to meet his eyes, though. I’m embarrassed and just keep on talking. “Also, you’re right: I have no right to be angry at you for using magic. And I’m not… I was just embarrassed for losing, is all. What can I say? I’m a bad loser.”

I shrug and smile sadly without looking at him. I’m staring into his chest so hard I’m surprised there isn’t a hole in his t-shirt by now. And when he says nothing, I continue blabbering.

“I’ve had a hard time accepting you’re the stronger one out of us two, and even now, I’m ashamed to admit it to myself. It’s just… I’ve been training for years, and then I lost so damn quickly. It was heartbreaking. But I now realize I was hurting you by not being open about this and pushing you away… you won fair and square and shouldn’t apologize for being stronger than me. So, I’m sorry.”

I lift my chin to peek at Misha. He is watching me with a hard-to-read expression, but it suddenly turns to amusement, the dark kind. Not the ha-ha-you’re-funny, but the shit-you’re-pathetic type.

“I guess I’ve found one of your flaws, Josie. You’re self-absorbed. Dare I say you’re also a bit selfish?”

My heart pounds with guilt. “Yes… I am,” I replace some courage and gaze deeply up into his eyes. “But aren’t we all more or less selfish? Most people have done something they regret.”

A surprised smile curls his lips. I notice his hands holding me have sunk down to my wrists and that he is gripping them while slowly steering us to the side of the bleachers.

“True, and you did come to apologize—that’s a step toward the right direction.”

My back is leaning into the wood behind me, and Misha’s hands are still on my wrists, holding them above my head. What is he doing?

I look up into Misha’s face, and my breaths are coming in hot, but I’m not afraid. Misha is my mate and is studying me, eyes narrowed while he searches my face as if looking for something.

I wet my lips. “And what is the right direction?”

He smiles. “Me. I’m your mate, and I’m also in the right direction for you. Instead of avoiding me, you should be running into my arms.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “I don’t deserve you… honestly, I don’t really understand why we are mated. There are better choices for you.”

“Like who?”

“Becky…”

Misha laughs, and then a grin spreads over his lips. “I do not want Becky. She is a good friend, but she is hyper and brutally honest. That’s not the type of woman I’m interested in.”

I snort. “Are you trying to say you’re interested in my type? Because damn, you must be a masochist if you want to be with a girl who seems to hurt you at every turn.”

“No,” he leans in closer until our breaths mingle, eyes inches apart as he looks at me. My body is pinned to the wall by his larger one, hands still locked above my head. “That’s not what I’m trying to say at all.”

I can’t stop staring at his lips and eyes. “Then what are you trying to say?”

“That dating Becky wouldn’t be as rewarding as dating the girl who seems to have built walls around her heart while I was gone. Because once I’ve made my way in, I can take pride knowing I’m the only one who has made it that far.”

I stare at him, shocked, and Misha continues.

“You’re reserved, hard to get to know, and your heart is closed off. You’re also self-absorbed and selfish, yet… I also suspect you have a heart made of gold: you kept visiting my grave and brought me flowers. You cared for my mother while I was gone by keeping her company. And even though you don’t see it yourself, you’re also a capable fighter—most people don’t last a second against me.”

I’m… speechless. I didn’t expect Misha to be so observant, and when he leans in, I don’t move. He smiles, only a second away from kissing me when those eyes meet mine.

“And now, I’m going to k**s you because I’m really, really f*****g tired of you pushing me away and pretending it’s not what you want.”

I don’t have any objections, and when Misha k****s me, it’s like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. He sees me for who I am, flaws and all, yet he is still here, kissing me.

Perhaps we are meant to be together after all?