Stuck Between Two Hotties: My Stepbrother Stole My Christmas

CHAPTER ONE;

Lena's Pov

The universe has a sick sense of humor.

That was the only explanation for why my life felt like it was unraveling in slow motion.

Just yesterday, Bryce and I had our first real fight.

Not the playful bickering couples laugh about later.

No this one had been sharp, tense, full of raised voices and hurt feelings neither of us knew how to swallow.

He'd said I was "too much."

Too emotional.

Too demanding.

Too... everything.

And I, stupidly, apologized.

Because that's what I always did.

I apologized even when I didn't understand what I'd done wrong.

But this morning, I'd found something tucked under the jacket he left at my apartment a reservation slip for La Lumière, one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. The kind of place with glimmering chandeliers, velvet chairs, and waiters who probably judged your shoe choices.

My heart had fluttered the moment I saw it.

Maybe he'd planned something.

Maybe the fight meant nothing.

Maybe he wanted to fix things.

Maybe God help me I wasn't losing him.

I didn't text him.

Didn't warn him.

Didn't ask if I was supposed to show up.

I wanted to surprise him for once.

I wanted to walk in smiling, holding the little wrapped gift I'd bought him weeks ago a silver bracelet engraved with the date we met.

Pathetic, right?

I got dressed, brushed my hair, put on a soft red sweater, and dabbed perfume on my neck like I was preparing for the kind of moment girls write diary entries about.

My stomach fluttered all the way to the restaurant.

The warm lights outside glowed like a promise.

Soft music drifted through the entrance.

A couple walked out laughing, arm in arm.

It felt like a sign.

Maybe the universe wasn't cruel.

Maybe today would be one of those perfect Christmas stories.

I pulled the door open gently.

The hostess at the podium gave me a polite smile.

"Reservation name?"

"Oh...it should be under Carter. Bryce Carter."

She blinked. Then her expression softened with recognition.

"Oh... yes. He arrived a few minutes ago."

My heart leapt.

He was here.

Waiting for me.

I adjusted the bow on the gift and stepped inside, taking a deep breath as I scanned the tables.

Couples everywhere.

Candles flickering.

Glasses clinking.

Then I saw him.

Or rather heard him first.

Bryce's laugh.

Light. Warm. The one that pulled people in without effort.

I froze.

Because he wasn't alone.

Across from him sat a girl I'd never seen before.

Beautiful.

Long dark curls.

Red lipstick.

A tight black dress that screamed confidence.

She leaned forward, her finger tracing the rim of her wine glass as she said something that made him grin my grin, the one he used to reserve for me.

My throat tightened.

No.

No, no, no.

This wasn't real.

I moved closer, each step heavier than the last, the gift trembling in my hand.

Bryce lifted his champagne glass.

"To us," he said.

My heart dropped.

The girl giggled and clinked her glass with his. "Mmm. To us."

To us.

Not to Christmas.

Not to reconciliation.

To them.

I felt the world tilt slightly.

"Bryce?" My voice cracked as it left my throat.

His head jerked up.

His smile vanished instantly.

"Lena?" he choked, like I was a ghost.

The girl blinked between us. "Um... who's this?"

"My girlfriend," I whispered.

"No," Bryce said too quickly. "Not anymore Lena, wait, it's not..."

"Oh, please." The girl rolled her eyes. "You didn't tell me you still had a girlfriend."

My fingers tightened around the gift box, nails digging into the shiny paper.

I didn't trust my voice, but I forced the words out anyway.

"You... made a reservation for us. I thought..."

"I didn't make it for us," he snapped. "You were supposed to give me space. You never listen."

The words hit harder than a slap.

I swallowed. "So you brought her instead?"

The girl shrugged unapologetically. "He invited me last night."

Last night.

The same night I cried into my pillow after he walked out on me.

My vision blurred.

The restaurant lights swam.

My breath hitched, embarrassingly loud.

"Lena," Bryce said, standing abruptly, reaching for my arm like he deserved to touch me. "Let's talk outside. You're making a scene."

I stepped back.

"No," I whispered. "You made the scene. I just walked in at the wrong time."

He clenched his jaw. "Don't be dramatic. We weren't together."

"We literally fought yesterday!"

"Exactly," he shot back. "Which means we were basically done."

The girl hummed, sipping her wine. "Sounds like miscommunication."

The kind that ruins people.

I forced my lips into something resembling a smile small, sad, broken.

"I bought you something," I said quietly, lifting the gift before letting my arm fall. "But I guess you already got what you wanted."

I placed the box on the edge of the table.

His eyes flicked down to it, guilt momentarily cracking through his arrogance.

He reached out. "Lena..."

"Don't," I breathed. "Just... don't."

I turned before he could say anything else.

The hostess called after me, but her voice blurred with the ringing in my ears.

Outside, the cold winter air slapped my cheeks, but I barely felt it.

I walked until my legs shook, until the lights of the restaurant disappeared behind me, until the numbness in my chest simmered into something hot and painful.

I had given him everything.

Every soft part of me.

Every late-night conversation.

Every hope for the future.

And he threw it away for a girl whose name he probably didn't even know yesterday.

I didn't notice the tears until they hit my collar.

My phone buzzed.

Mom.

"Don't forget your flight tomorrow, sweetheart! Senator Ward is so excited to meet you and introduce you to Cassian."

Right.

Christmas with my mother.

My new stepfather.

My stepbrother.

The fresh start I desperately needed.

I wiped my tears with the back of my sleeve and inhaled shakily.

Fine.

If Bryce could move on this quickly so could I.

I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and whispered into the cold night:

"Goodbye, Bryce."

And for the first time in days...

it didn't hurt to say it.