Break Me Read online

  She laughs, scooting back what must be the laptop back on the coffee table. “Same. Hang on, let me make more room.”

  I nod, reaching over to grab my takeout bag and drop it in front of me.

  A couple seconds pass, and then Captain’s dropping onto the couch, Victoria perching on the armrest beside him.

  “VicVee,” I call to her, brushing my finger along my lip. “Got a little dried cum there,” I tease.

  “Fuck off.” She laughs, swiping at it. “Zoey insisted on feeding me a bite of her pasta.”

  “Where is my niece?”

  Cap looks past the camera with a grin. “She’s comin’.”

  “RaeRae, where’d you go? Where’s Maddoc?”

  “I’m here!” She comes back on the screen, dropping beside Captain. “Maddoc’s grabbing a soda from the pool house ‘cause your dad has the good shit in there.”

  “You mean Maddoc replaced everything with caffeine-free shit again hoping you’d go for it?”

  “Exactly.” She laughs.

  I grin. “Lemme see my baby.”

  “Stop saying your baby, dick!” Maddoc shouts in the distance.

  Both me and Cap laugh, our eyes glued to Raven as she stretches her arms out as much as she can, pulling the bottom of the hoodie up to show her perfectly round belly. Yeah, I was with her a few days ago, but I don’t want to miss any of this.

  “How the fuck’s there a person in there, RaeRae?”

  I stare at her belly.

  A couple weeks ago I got a surprise in the form of an envelope, and inside it was the official sex of Maddoc and Raven’s baby. The sex that they themselves don’t even know.

  It was a gift she gave me, that they gave me, one I could never repay or match.

  I know it’s because she wanted me to have something to hold on to, and it was a damn good one. Now all I need to do is get a little present that’s fitting so I’m prepared for when that little baby meets mama and pops. And us.

  Raven smirks, knowing I’m thinking about what she’s having but doesn’t dare ask. She drops back onto the cushion, Maddoc finally beside her.

  “What up?” He nods his chin, the corner of his mouth lifting, his eyes trailing every inch of me he can see. “Shit’s fuckin’ weird.”

  I nod, my smile small.

  It is.

  It’s only been a few days, but that’s a long ass fucking time for us. With the exception of the few fucked-up situations over the last year, we’re always together this time of day, so not to be, fucking sucks.

  It’s not normal for us to be apart.

  We live and breathe for each other, with each other.

  We don’t need words to speak, we don’t need action to understand.

  We’re like triplets, connected way deeper than most. We talk without words, understand with action. We breathe for each other. We’re three assholes who couldn’t be any more different, yet somehow, we’re still the same. We’re a team with an empire ready and waiting for us.

  I scoff, thinking of what Brielle called us—the Three Musketeers.

  I guess that works in a way, even though our threesome has grown to five.

  I’m the odd man out now.

  The leftovers.

  “Royce...” Raven eases.

  My eyes snap to hers, and concern brings creases to her forehead.

  She leans closer to the screen, frown growing. “You good?”

  “Damn good, if I’m judging myself.”

  There you go, deflect like a motherfucker.

  She scoffs a laugh, but we all know what she’s gettin’ at.

  “So, what up? How’s the hump-cation going now that you’re practically a fuckin’ continent away in the back wing of the house? I see you can still sit and stand as well as that belly allows, Madman must not be—”

  “I’ll fuck you up, brother,” Maddoc cuts me off with a glare.

  “But I’m so far away.” I grin.

  He chuckles, flipping me off as he takes a drink from a water bottle.

  “We’re good, Ponyboy.” Raven smirks. “Good mornings, afternoons... nights.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  She laughs, her eyes moving to Maddoc when he reaches out and I know what’s coming.

  And there she fuckin’ is.

  Bouncy blonde curls pulled up tight, little strands framing her face, and a megawatt smile pointed right at me. “Uncle Bro!” our princess screams, leaning as close as possible to the screen.

  “Zoey Bear! I miss you!”

  “I miss you!” She giggles. “Uncle D said you want me to watch cartoons with him tomorrow ‘cause you’re not home.”

  “Uncle D is a li—”

  “Okay,” Cap cuts me off with a glare and I fight a grin.

  We might be fucked-up assholes, but we’re trying to teach our niece, Cap’s baby girl, our way of life, and one of the biggest pieces to keeping it as straight as we’ve managed is our no lie rule. No matter how big the issue, how fucked-up we imagine the aftermath of the truth, that’s what we give. Always.

  Sure, this is tiny and nearly irrelevant as far as dishonesties go—my brother trying to compete for that top uncle spot with me—but to a toddler, a lie is a lie.

  So I smile for my niece, nodding my head, and damn, she gives back.

  Maddoc chuckles to himself and I flip him off when Zoey looks to her dad as he stands up and disappears from sight.

  “So what’s on the menu tonight?”

  Light chuckles leave them, and they all look to Raven.

  I try to push away the hint of seclusion it brings. I mean, fuck, I’m the one who came here without them when they’d have hopped in the car with me without a question asked had I asked them to.

  Still, that nasty sense of fish out of fucking water creeps in.

  Raven notices, her eyes narrowing, but I avoid eye contact.

  “Well, we ordered Chinese at the pregnant lady’s request,” Victoria teases.

  “But she said it tasted like shit,” Maddoc grumbles. “I swear to God, all she wants to eat is Doritos with hot sauce and sweets.”

  I laugh, making a mental note to stock up on loads of bad-for-you shit for her when I get home.

  Cap comes back, setting a plate in front of Zoey, and she climbs down to eat.

  “What is that?”

  “Fried chicken. And guess what he fried it in?” Victoria raises a playful brow. “Crushed up Doritos.”

  I smile and Maddoc shakes his head at his girl, grabbing two plates from Captain and then they’re all on screen again, food in hand.

  Maddoc nods his chin at my bag, so I tear it open and pull out a fat tri-tip sandwich.

  “Not much to pick from around here, but they’ve got enough barbeque shit to last a lifetime.”

  All three give light nods.

  I know they want to ask where ‘here’ is, but they won’t. They know I’ll tell them the truth if they do, but the fact that I didn’t offer it up means I don’t feel like sharing yet, and they won’t push unless they feel the need to.

  Instead, Cap asks, “Mac head out already?”

  “Yup,” I say through a mouthful. “He’ll be there by morning.”

  My brothers nod but not Raven.

  “You’re fine without him?” She watches me closely.

  “I’m a big-ass boy, RaeRae,” I tease.

  She drops her fork with a click that echoes through the speaker. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. You’re by yourself. Away from us.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Says the guy who hates riding in the back seat by his damn self.”

  A choked cough disguised as a laugh fills the stale smelling room, and I shift on the bed.

  “For real, I’m fine.”

  Worry draws her brows together, but she looks away, knowing I’m here and they’re there and there’s nothing changing about that until I decide there is. I love her ass for pausing to voice her concern though—she under
stands me fully.

  Captain shifts the mood to something lighter, and we bullshit our way through the rest of dinner, hanging up after we agree to hop on at the same time tomorrow, and every other night until we’re all back where we should be.

  When we were seven, our father gave us tokens meant to link us physically, when emotionally we were since day one.

  He gave Maddoc a key, Captain brass knuckles, and me a white gold chain donning the family crest.

  Each had their own meaning linked directly to who he saw in our eyes, and mine is a presentation of our family’s strength as a whole.

  At seven, I was smaller than my brothers, skinnier, but not weaker. I was ten-foot-tall in my mind when I stood less than half of that. I remember our dad told me I walked spine straight and shoulders strong, head high and proud.

  He gave me the chain that then hung low over my abdomen, and said the crest was mine to wear proudly, like a soldier with his tags, like a general does his medals. He said it represented the fight our family had. The fight he knew I would never walk away or cower from.

  At seven, maybe even younger, our father saw strength we didn’t yet know, but believed in.

  But we know it now.

  I pull the chain from beneath my shirt, reading over the inscription on the back, the same inspiration etched into each of our items.

  A couple of years ago I tattooed the words on my body, so that if I ever lost this necklace, they’d still be with me, reminding me of what I could never forget.

  Family runs deeper than blood.

  A bold, brave statement that’s the truest I’ve ever heard.

  We understood the power of those words as kids, and we hold them even higher now.

  The ones we love most, we share nothing less than our hearts, minds, and lives with.

  Something like having dinner together might seem trivial to those on the outside, but it’s far fucking more to us.

  Eating together is a tradition we’re not willing to break, and only did a few times as of recent when our world was fucked and never want to do it again. It’s something we promised each other as we grew, that no matter how fucked our world might be at times, no matter the wild, the trouble we’re facing, be it town drama or our own, the last meal of the day we’d spend together. At the end of the day it’s a good way to refresh our memories, in case we ever forget—if nothing else, we’ll always have each other.

  Family by choice.

  A reminder we bleed like everyone else, even if our world sets us apart from others our age.

  I guess Brielle’s little mobster joke was semi on point.

  I push my food aside, lying back on the shitty bed and flat pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

  Mobster and musketeers.

  The girl thinks she’s educated when it comes to our world.

  I’m thinking not.

  But why the fuck am I thinking of the brat to begin with?

  Maybe I do need to go home.

  As I think it, a nauseating need for a crowd creeps in, screaming for me to make my way toward others, the suffocating sense of how I’m sittin’ solo in this box of a room weighing next, but I force that bitch back.

  I just said I was fine, and I am. I brought myself here. Told Mac to leave me here. I’m good.

  I’m good.

  I trace the crown molding on the ceiling, trying to focus on the overlapping paint and chipped corners, but my eyes pull toward the clock, and then to the silver key sitting beside it.

  Fuck it.

  I push to my feet, slip a black hoodie on and I’m out the door.

  I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t sit in a locked-up room full of shrieking silence, so I hop in the weak-ass car and off I go.

  By the time I realize where I’m headed, I’m already there.

  Parked right outside of Brielle’s aunt’s house.

  The house is dark, so I’m ready to keep rolling, but then I spy a splash of silver.

  What the fuck?

  I hop out and stomp my ass across the yard, and sure as shit, there she is, slumped over one of those things stacked at the backs of every grocery store, still in her school uniform.

  My muscles flex as I approach, but it doesn’t take long to realize she’s breathing, and frustration follows.

  Irrational irritation flares in my gut. “Wake up.”

  Brielle’s head pops up, her hair covering half her face as she manically whips her upper body from left to right.

  In a fucking frenzy, she swipes the silver strands from her face, squeezing her eyes closed as tight as possible.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” she whispers, her hands coming up to shield her, her fingers gently tapping at her lids.

  “Hate to break it to you, little Bishop, but if you’re trying to wake yourself up... you ain’t sleepin’.”

  Every muscle in her tiny body locks, her fingers spreading just enough to allow her to meet my gaze through the gap.

  Her shoulders fall with her hands as if I wasn’t the cause of her little trip out just now, a frown quickly following.

  “What are you doing here?” she hisses.

  “Fuck are you doing out here?” I crouch down beside her, my elbows on my knees.

  Her fingers come up to cover her yawn. “What time is it?”

  My jaw tics. “Why you outside, in the fuckin’ dark, alone?”

  Now she glares. “Stop answering my questions with a question.”

  “Stop askin’ questions and answer mine.”

  “Oh my god.” She shakes her head with a huff.

  “The hell are you doing sleeping on a fucking box outside at nine at night?”

  There. I gave her the time.

  Consider me fucking kind.

  “I was...” She trails off, spotting her books sitting beside her, and it’s as if a little light bulb flicks on.

  “I was doing homework.” She nods, trying to convince herself. “I guess I fell asleep.”

  I focus on the stack of shit at her side.

  “Right.” I lick my lips, my eyes flicking to hers. “You finished your work, put it all together like a good little student would, set it down all nice and fuckin’ neat, and forgot to stand up and go inside?”

  A crease forms along her forehead. “I was looking for Ursa Minor?”

  My head tugs back. “Ursa what?”

  “Star gazing?”

  Slowly, one of my brows kicks up. “That a question?”

  She pinches her mouth to the side.

  I glance at the house, not a light left on as far as I can tell.

  I push to my feet. “Get up.”

  “Royce.”

  I grab her things off the grass, stuffing it in her bag, and stare down at her, still sitting Indian style on the ground.

  “Up.”

  “I’m good here, thanks,” she says, but her lips are pulled in tight.

  “On five, I’m carrying you into that house.”

  She scoffs, but the longer she looks at me, the more uneasy she grows.

  I knew something was fucked-up here.

  I’ll give her a chance to tell me what it is.

  “Why are you out here?”

  She focuses on her bag in my hand.

  I fling it over my shoulder, bend, and scoop her ass up.

  Her eyes are wide and on me, leaving her no choice but to hold on tight.

  “One.”

  “Royce—”

  “Two.”

  “Don’t—”

  “Five.”

  I’m up the steps, my hand planted on the handle when hers flies out to cover mine, the heat of her palm freezing me on the spot.

  My eyes slice to hers.

  The muscles in my stomach coil over, and my arms stiffen around her.

  She stares up at me, eyes a darkened, tortured turquoise, silently begging me to let go, turn the fuck around and walk back down.

  This girl, she doesn’t know me.

  I don’t know her.
r />   So how the fuck do I know what she wants?

  And even more warped, how does she know that I do?

  She proves it by drawing her hand away, the cool night air replacing it as the breeze rolls over my knuckles.

  I let go of the damn doorknob, but not her eyes.

  I hold them with a heavy frown as I make my way across the grass, bypassing the spot I grabbed her from, and not stopping until we reach the car. I let her legs drop, lowering her feet to the ground and reach by her to tug on the door.

  Something’s on the tip of her tongue, an attempt to argue maybe, but instead, she lets go, slides into the seat and stares straight ahead.

  I close her in, taking slow as shit steps around the car too... I don’t even fuckin’ know why.

  But it sure as hell seems necessary.

  That alone should have me kicking her ass out of the car.

  Instead, I slide inside it and take us to the first place I can find that’s still open—a small townie diner.

  We’ve been here for twenty minutes now and for the last fifteen, she’s pretended not to be watching me from her corner of the booth while I’ve been purposely ignoring the fact that she is, straight focused on my fries and chocolate shake.

  Her dramatic huff and hard smack of the spoon on the tabletop does what she wants, though.

  I turn my head toward her. “What?”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why I was outside?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause I already know.”

  “Okay...” She twists her body to face mine. “So why was I?”

  “Nah.” I shake my head. “I’m not playin’ your bullshit, just waitin’ until I get to take your ass back and drop you on the curb.”

  “If that’s the truth, why bother showing up in the first place?”

  My brows snap together, realizing I don’t know the answer to that.

  What I do know is I felt restless, the need to get out and breathe was fucking smothering, so that’s what I did.

  Ain’t nothin’ to it.

  When I don’t respond, her eyes drop to her straw.

  After a few quiet seconds, she says, “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Wouldn’t do what?”

  “Drop me on the curb.”

  I wipe my face of all expression, my wall shooting higher, and with it comes a bit of a bite. “Don’t pretend to know me.”

  “Don’t show your cards so quickly.”