Puck Me Harder: A Stepbrother Romance [BL]

Micah’s POV

My heart did a violent flutter. I sank down onto the very edge of the mattress beside him, refusing to let go of his hand.

I sat there in the heavy quiet, my teardrops trailing slowly down my cheeks as my eyes scanned his face. Even in his unconscious, bedridden state, he looked impossibly handsome. His sharp, defined jawline was dark with faint stubble, his long, dark eyelashes casting soft shadows over his cheekbones. His thick hair was messy, falling wildly over his forehead.

Even sick, bruised, and wrapped in bandages, he radiated an overwhelming warmth that drew me in like a moth to a flame.

A heavy sob threatened to rip from my throat, but I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted copper, forcing it back down. I pulled his calloused hand up, pressing it gently against my cheek, feeling the steady, rhythmic warmth of his pulse against my skin.

"I’m so sorry..." I whispered softly into his palm, tightening my grip as fresh tears spilled over my lashes. "I’m so, so sorry my brother hurt you... It’s all my fault."

Suddenly, the quiet click of the bedroom door latch made me freeze.

My heart nearly leaped out of my mouth. I flinched, quickly dropping Damon’s hand back onto the bed as I spun around in panic, expecting to see his terrifying father standing in the doorway.

Instead, the old nanny stepped softly into the room, carrying a neatly folded stack of fresh, clean clothes in her arms. She looked up and caught me wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve, but her expression didn’t change.

"I hope the young master opens his eyes soon," she said quietly, walking over to the large walk-in closet near the side of the room. "I’m sure he would be very glad to see you here beside him."

A wave of intense insecurity washed over me, making my chest ache. Would he really be glad to see me?

What if he woke up and was furious at me? What if he hated me for disappearing yesterday without saying a single word of goodbye? What if he realized that being around me brought nothing but pain, violence, and blood into his life, and decided he didn’t want to see my pathetic face ever again?

The nanny placed the neatly folded shirts into one of the open closet shelves, then turned back around and stepped out into the bedroom, wiping her hands on her apron.

She looked at me, her gentle eyes scanning my pale, distressed face. "Can you stay with the young master until the doctor returns to check on his ribs later in the evening?" she asked softly.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked back at Damon’s peaceful, sleeping face, then turned to the nanny, nodding eagerly.

"Sure," I replied.

Since my twisted family was the sole reason he was lying in this bed, broken and in pain, it was only right that I stayed. It was my responsibility. I wanted to care for him. I needed to be here.

"I’ll stay here," I added, firmer this time.

"Thank you, child," the nanny said, offering me a sweet, grateful nod. "Don’t worry, the twins will be back home from their school once it’s noon, so you won’t be entirely alone in the house for long."

I just gave a soft nod, watching her quietly walk out of the master bedroom and gently pull the door shut behind her. The sharp click of the latch echoed through the room, leaving me completely isolated once again.

Silence descended over the space.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a few long minutes, staring intently at Damon’s chest as it rose and fell slowly. The intense adrenaline that had fueled my grand escape from school was slowly wearing off, leaving behind a hollow, agonizing wave of restlessness.

My mind began to wander, and the terrifying image of Noah’s cold, furious face immediately crept back into my thoughts. I could practically hear his low growl in my ear:

’One mistake and I’ll punish you a hundred times.’

A shudder ran through my whole body. I couldn’t just sit here in the dark doing nothing. If I sat still, my own thoughts would eat me alive before Noah even got his hands on me.

"While waiting for Damon to open his eyes... what do I do?" I muttered under my breath, my voice swallowed by the quiet room.

I reluctantly pulled my hand away from his blanket, stood up from the plush mattress, and started aimlessly walking around his massive bedroom just to keep my mind occupied.

My feet dragged across the thick carpet, leading me straight into his walk-in closet first. I blinked in surprise as I looked around. It was as big as a small apartment. Rows upon rows of expensive leather jackets, custom-tailored suits, high-end street clothes, designer sneakers, and shiny silver jewelry filled the lit shelves. He really had an insane amount of stuff. The wealth of the Silver family was breathtaking, almost overwhelming.

I stepped back out into the main bedroom, my eyes wandering over to the tall wooden bookshelves built against the far wall.

Knowing Damon, he wasn’t a reader by any stretch of the imagination. True to my thoughts, the shelves weren’t filled with novels or textbooks. Instead, he had random, chaotic things stored there—trophies, athletic medals, expensive watches, and silver lighters.

But as my eyes scanned the middle shelf, I suddenly froze.

Sitting right beside a silver hockey puck was my favorite metallic blue pen—the one that had mysteriously vanished from my desk. Beside it was a small leather-bound notepad and a silver bracelet that I thought I had lost.

A sudden, breathy laugh bubbled up from my chest, and a small smirk crept onto my face despite the anxiety.

He had stolen them. The idiot had literally swiped my random belongings off my desk the last time he came over to my house, keeping them on his personal shelf like little prized trophies. A strange warmth bloomed inside my chest, melting away a fraction of the dread that had been paralyzing me all morning.

My curiosity getting the better of my panicked mind, I stepped closer to his heavy mahogany desk and pulled open the top drawer.

I knew I shouldn’t be snooping around his private room. I knew it was wrong. But... what else was I supposed to do? I was dying of boredom, and I was desperately trying to keep my head from drowning in thoughts of my brother.

The moment the drawer slid open, my eyes widened in absolute shock.

Lying inside on a velvet tray were at least six different sets of luxury car key fobs... porsche, sports coupes, custom rides, all bearing sleek metallic logos.

Damon really was on an entirely different level. A sharp pang of envy shot through my chest as I stared down at the shiny keys. He had everything—freedom, power, status, and a fleet of cars he could drive whenever he pleased, while I was practically a prisoner in my own home, forced to beg my brother for a ride to school.

"I wonder when I’ll ever get to drive my own car..." I muttered to myself, letting out a soft sigh as I stared down at the keychains.

"All you could do was just ask... and I’ll give everything to you, my Micah."

A deep, raspy voice suddenly cut through the quiet room, echoing from the direction of the bed.

My entire body went violently rigid. The blood in my veins turned to fire, and my heart slammed against my ribs so hard it felt like it was going to burst right out of my chest.

I whipped around so fast my vision blurred.

Damon was no longer asleep. He was sitting up slightly against the plush pillows, resting his heavy shoulders against the headboard. His dark, intense eyes were wide open, locked straight onto me with a fierce, burning focus that made my breath completely seize in my throat.

"Damon..." His name escaped my lips as a fragile, breathless whisper.

Damon didn’t break eye contact for even a fraction of a second. Despite the thick bandages tightly compressing his bruised ribs, despite the visible pale exhaustion on his handsome face, a low, dangerous smirk slowly tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Don’t stand way over there..." he rasped out, his voice heavy with sleep and deep emotion as he slowly spread his broad arms open toward me. "Come here..."