All Chapters of PUCK ME, STEPBROTHER: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Moving ForwardBryson POVI wake up feeling lighter than before but still bruised inside.The heaviness hasn't disappeared. It's still there, sitting in my chest like a weight I've learned to carry. But it feels manageable now. Less crushing, more bearable. I tell myself Julian is no longer part of my life. I need to accept that and build something for myself.Sitting at my small desk, I open my laptop and start researching internships and part-time roles. Anything that will keep me busy. Anything that gives me purpose beyond hockey and heartbreak.I spend hours scrolling through listings. Business internships. Marketing positions. Administrative work. I'm not picky. I just need something.I send applications to different companies, carefully writing cover letters and attaching my resume. Each one sent feels like a small victory. Like I'm taking control of something.By the end of the day, I've applied to seven different positions.One company responds almost immediately. They want t

Empty SpaceJulian POV. The bus ride to the championship city feels endless.I sit near the back with my team, my girlfriend Helen beside me, my father across the aisle. Bryson's mother sits a few rows ahead talking quietly with some of the other parents.It's been a little over a month since the breakup. Since I stood at that party and told Bryson we were nothing. I watched him walk away with his shoulders hunched and his head down.The empty space beside me feels heavier with every mile we travel.Helen tries to make conversation, but I give short answers. Eventually, she gives up and scrolls through her phone instead.My teammates are loud and excited. They talk about the game tomorrow, about strategies and opponents. Their energy fills the bus but I feel disconnected from it all.Like I'm watching from somewhere far away.We arrive at the hotel late in the afternoon. Check-in is chaotic with everyone trying to get their room keys at once. I grab mine quickly and escape to my room

ChoiceJulian POV. The third period ends with our win. The celebration is loud and chaotic. Teammates hug each other. Coaches shake hands. The trophy gets passed around.I hold it for photos but my smile feels fake.Back in the locker room everyone is euphoric. Music plays. People shout and laugh.I sit at my locker, finally remembering the bag Nathan gave me earlier.I pull it out and open it slowly.Inside is a gear. Hockey gear. But not just any gear.Custom equipment. Every piece is engraved with my name. Motivational quotes appear on the straps and inside the linings.A small folded card sits on top.I open it with shaking hands.Bryson's handwriting."Julian_I know things are complicated right now. I know we're not together anymore. But I wanted you to have this anyway because hockey is your dream and you deserve to chase it.You were always meant for this. Don't let anyone tell you different. Not your father. Not me. Not anyone.Chase your dream. Make it real.—B"Something b

DevotionJulian POVI'm made to leave Bryson's room after he tells me there's no reason for me to stay.The words echo as I walk down the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last. They cut deeper than any of the things my father said. Because Bryson is right. I don't deserve to be there. I lost that privilege when I chose fear over love. When I let Richard's threats control my actions.But I can't leave. Not really. Not when he's lying in a hospital bed hurt because of me.The attackers came after him because of our relationship. This is my fault.I find a chair outside his room and sit down. The hallway is quieter here, away from the main waiting area and the noise of the emergency room. Just me and the occasional nurse passing by with medication carts or clipboards.Hours pass. I don't move except to shift when my back starts aching from the uncomfortable plastic chair. I don't check my phone even though it buzzes constantly in my pocket. The party where I called him noth

Picking Sides Julian POVBryson is finally discharged from the hospital on a gray afternoon when rain threatens to fall but doesn't.He moves slowly, each step taken with caution and pain. The crutches make him clumsy. His face tightens with discomfort every time his weight shifts wrong.The doctor gives lengthy instructions about rest, medication schedules, and physical therapy appointments. He emphasizes that Bryson needs weeks of proper care and constant supervision to heal correctly."You'll need someone with you," the doctor says firmly. "At least for the first two weeks. No stairs. No standing for long periods. Someone needs to monitor you for complications."Bryson's mother immediately offers. "You can stay with us. We have plenty of space and I can…""No." Bryson's voice is quiet but absolute. "I just want to go home. To my apartment.""But honey, the apartment has stairs, and you'll be alone most of the day when I'm at work.""I'll manage."I step forward before I can think