Break Me Page 8

  “Your cousin, she’s gonna start shit for you, isn’t she?”

  I nod. “Probably, yeah.”

  “She’s a bitch.”

  “Definitely.” I laugh. “She’s got her reasons, so it’s whatever.”

  “Don’t make excuses for shitty, stuck-up people who treat you like shit.”

  My head snaps toward him, and I’m taken aback by the gravity of his expression.

  Frustration crowds my ribs, tightening them. “You don’t know her. You have no right to judge her.”

  “And you have no reason to defend her.” He flashes. “Nobody should come at you like that and think it’s their right, bullshit reasons or fucking not.”

  “Imagine how you would feel if someone was dropped on your doorstep one day and your life changed overnight. Literally.”

  Something flashes in his eyes, but he looks away to hide it.

  “I can handle her,” I reassure when I’m not sure it’s necessary.

  “No such thing as handling jealousy.”

  “Ciara, jealous of me?” I laugh, readying myself to climb out. “That’s a no.”

  “It wasn’t a question.”

  Annoyance pricks at my throat, but I don’t allow myself to clear it.

  He has no clue what he’s saying.

  Ciara’s not jealous of me, she has zero reason to be.

  She’s gorgeous, has friends who care about her, a home that’s hers to love, a town she can make a future in. A life.

  Purpose.

  All the things I don’t.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t notice,” he accuses. “Playin’ dumb is unattractive.”

  “And assuming I care what you think is attractive is arrogant.”

  “Don’t mean it’s untrue.” He shrugs unapologetically. “The dickbag from the court—”

  “His name is Franky.”

  He studies me a long, quiet moment before saying, “The punk wants you, and she hates it. That shit was obvious.”

  “Oh yeah, she’s all sorts of sad about it.” I tilt my head like an asshole. “So sad, in fact, she pulled a random stranger’s cock into her mouth a whole five minutes after waking up today.” I glare. “Weird, right?”

  Royce gapes at me, and then a loud laugh leaves him.

  He leans against the door, fully shifting his body to face me.

  “Well, fuck me, little Bishop.” He wipes at his mouth with a smile. “Didn’t expect the big C word to be your noun of choice.”

  “Didn’t expect you to know what a noun was, so we’re even.”

  He grins. “Say it again, she sucked my cock.”

  I open my mouth, but quickly close it on a low laugh, shaking my head.

  I’d say she more like tried to suck your cock, but whatever.

  Another deep laugh leaves him and I swear, this time my chest grows warm.

  Royce takes a quick drink of his chocolate milk, his attention coming right back to me. “I’d have fuckin’ swore you were a ‘penis’ kind of girl.”

  “Yeah, well, guess I’m full of surprises,” I joke.

  When I look to him, he licks his lips, his gaze floating toward the school.

  The playful banter disappears. The newfound silence is unnerving and lasts for several minutes.

  “Why aren’t they afraid of your brother?” he asks suddenly.

  I couldn’t stop the ache from showing itself as I tried, and Royce doesn’t miss it.

  Realization has his face falling and unease swims in my stomach.

  I shrug against the seat. “They’d have to know he existed in order to fear him.”

  I look at my house, at the sliver of a light peeking from a broken blind. “I’m not allowed to talk about my life before this place, about why or how I ended up here. It’s been almost four years now and not once have I ever gotten to speak to anyone about him. Until today, with you.” I look back to Royce who faces away, but has his eyes locked with mine. “I can’t be me, and I can’t talk about me... how messed up is that?”

  A heavy, unshared thought shadows his brown eyes, thick tension now written across his brow.

  “I need you to remember what I said, Brielle.” His eyes meet mine, a weighty seriousness suddenly woven within them. “Let those assholes think what they want. Don’t fight it, try and change it, or hide from it. Do you. They’re gonna judge you either way.”

  I search his face for a sign of rehearsed nonsense or hidden agenda, only to come up short.

  Maybe I’m broken or messed up in the head, but I almost wish the devil within would show himself—I’m not so sure what to do with an honest, hotheaded flirt with a loose belt and unclear intentions.

  I’m also not dumb enough to assume those intentions aren’t driven by anything but destruction. Regardless, his words from last night come back, so I whisper them between us. Sort of.

  “Screw ‘em.”

  The corner of his lips twitch, but he faces forward.

  A loud crash pulls our attention to the house, a sharp, screamed ‘fuck’ following, and my shoulders fall.

  I don’t want to get out, but I don’t even belong in this car.

  I turn to Royce.

  “That your aunt?”

  I sigh. “Yeah. I’m surprised she’s up. She’s always either gone when ten hits or good and passed out. I think that’s why she makes me come in late, so she doesn’t have to stare into the same eyes that haunt her own nightmares.”

  I look to Royce and while his anger seems to have deepened, he doesn’t have to ask what I mean, the answer’s so obvious.

  Before my dad became an evil dad, he was an evil brother.

  “What do you do once inside?” he rasps.

  “Cook, clean, fix what needs fixing, sometimes talk my cousin off a ledge, even if it’s a day I want to throw her over it.”

  “Why do you bother with her at all?”

  “Because it’s what’s right.” I give a small smile. “What sign are you?”

  “Sign?”

  “Your zodiac sign.”

  He frowns. “Pisces ”

  A grin pulls at my lips and I look away. “Now it all makes sense.”

  When I look back, he eyes me curiously, and with slow, almost reluctant movement, Royce reaches over to shove my door open.

  Impulses of a boy, manners of a man.

  I climb out, waiting for the sound of the soft engine to roar away behind me, but it sits idle until I’m on the porch pushing the front door open.

  With my hand on the edge of the worn wood, my body tucked half inside, I trail the little white car as it inches away, squinting at the brake lights when it comes to a full stop in the exact spot Mac was parked when Royce lifted me off the ground and led us both into the back seat earlier this morning.

  The car continues to sit there, leaving no doubt in my mind that the guy sitting in the driver’s seat has his eyes on me from a quarter of a mile down the road, waiting for me to close myself inside. Still, I stand there a few minutes longer.

  I somehow know once I step into the house, he’ll be gone, and not just for the night, but from this town.

  And I’m right.

  It wasn’t so bad meeting you, Royce Brayshaw.

  See you never.

  Chapter 7

  Royce

  The solo drive home is a shitty, long one I never want to take again, but far too fucking necessary.

  Straight-up, my little trip gave me zero satisfaction, but instead fucked with my head in ways I didn’t see coming.

  I should be fuckin’ whistling along, but instead I’m cussing myself out, irritated over shit that maybe I shouldn’t be.

  My mind’s playing games, my thoughts are a chaotic-ass mess, and every time I think I can drown them out, they give me the middle finger and float right back to the damn surface. Mocking me. Screaming for me to do something that I know is real damn dumb and bound to be a mistake. But I need a fucking minute.

  I need to breathe with my brothers beside me bec
ause god damn.

  What the fuck, man?

  Thank fuck I’m home now, it’ll be easy to escape myself here.

  On that thought, I turn onto Brayshaw property with a heavy sigh of relief.

  I cruise right by the girls and boys group homes at the entrance, slowing when I reach the backside and spot Maybell pushing open the back patio door.

  She’s the old wise-ass woman who’s been in the Brayshaw family since forever, long before we became a part of it. She started as a maid, but quickly earned the respect she’s worth, and has been loyal to our family name since the day she stepped into it.

  I, for one, fully believe she’s some kind of psychic. The woman knows everything, senses even more, but leaves our minds to work where necessary. She speaks on issues or concerns only when she suspects a need for it.

  She also was the one who raised my brothers and me, when my dad was here... and when he wasn’t. We love her like I imagine a son would love his mother—with as much of ourselves as we can.

  I knew she’d be watching for my safe return.

  She’s always watching.

  I put the car in park and quickly run over to her before she reaches the steps.

  “Come on now, Miss Maybell,” I tease. “Don’t break a hip.”

  She gives a small scoff, but grins through it. “And don’t go thinkin’ you’re too big for a whoopin’ now.”

  I chuckle, pausing a step beneath her and she lifts her wrinkled hands to pat my cheeks.

  “Boy,” she says softly, her deep, dark eyes searching my own.

  Not a second later, a small sigh leaves her, and she steps back.

  “You found what you went searching for,” she says.

  I told no one where I was going or why, but like I said... psychic.

  “I did. It was... short of my expectation.” I grin at my own joke, and damn if she doesn’t laugh as if she understands it full well.

  She probably does.

  “You be careful, boy,” she warns with a gentle ease. “Expectations are for fools, and you are far from one of those.”

  I reach out, giving her hand a light squeeze, and she offers a knowing smile, worry working its way into her eyes.

  “Your mind is heavy, boy.” She tips her head. “Will you listen to it?”

  My lips pinch together, and she nods, squeezing me back. “Do what you must. Now, go on. Get home.”

  I kiss her forehead, jogging back to the car, and I’m almost positive she doesn’t walk inside until the bumper of this busted ride is out of sight.

  I continue down the dirt road, through the tall trees our father planted when we were infants as an added form of armor—you can’t touch what you can’t see—and right as I pass through the final row, the Brayshaw mansion comes into view.

  My home since I was only months old.

  My home until the day I die.

  It’s big and beautiful and sacred to our name.

  The wide and winding driveway allows for full view of the pool and pool house, a small glimpse at the right, back side, and leads you straight up to the porch.

  My phone rings the second I’m stopped, Mac’s name lighting up the screen.

  “What up, bro?” I answer.

  “You’re home quicker than expected.”

  “Checkin’ me out on camera, fucker?”

  “What can I say, I missed my bedmate,” he teases. “Saw you roll by the school.”

  “Speaking of, how’s your girl, she need an extra hand?” I fuck with him, but my boy only laughs.

  “Any stories to share?”

  A scoffed laugh leaves me. “Bro. Don’t get me fuckin’ started.”

  He laughs into the line but makes quick work of catching me up to speed on the drama at the school.

  There’s a rumor about a fight that’s coming but no word on who or why yet, meaning we’ve got rich kids in panic mode.

  You’d think spoiled assholes with money to burn would rebel with order, but not here. They crave the shit. Crave us, period.

  They depend on our word, wait for us to tell them to worry or walk on like nothing.

  Either way, whatever it is that has people whispering will show itself soon enough, and we’ll be there to handle it when it does.

  Mac ends the call and in perfect fucking timing, too, ‘cause when I look up and out the windshield at my house, it’s a full porch I find.

  Maddoc stands at the railing, Raven right beside him, Cap and Victoria on her left, and little Zoey already two steps down.

  They’re smiling at me.

  Waiting for me.

  Damn if it’s not a settling-ass sight.

  We finish our late-night dinner and make our way into the living room to bullshit. Cap and Maddoc are laughing at something Zoey says while Victoria pretends to talk to her on a toy phone.

  I look to Raven and she knocks her elbow into mine, a small smile on her lips. A half a second passes, and her sigh comes next.

  I’m right there with the comfort seeping in. The security.

  The relief that comes with having someone in your corner, no matter fucking what.

  We’re lucky.

  Not everyone has a safe place.

  Pretty sure Brielle doesn’t.

  And there it is.

  Fuck.

  “Talk to me, Ponyboy.” Raven turns to me, proving yet again she can sense when things are off.

  Both of our eyes follow Maddoc when he stands, dropping to his knees a few feet away. He and Cap begin tossing a small ball back and forth, playing keep away from Zoey.

  I smile at my niece, cutting a quick glance at Victoria when she joins us on the couch. “You ever wonder what happens to kids who don’t get to come to our group homes? Or the ones who fuck up and are forced to leave it?”

  When neither of them says a word, I look their way.

  Raven watches me with steady eyes. “No. I haven’t.”

  “Me either.” Until now. “They all come from jacked homes, it’s why they need a new place to begin with, yeah? Why their files end up here?” I pause. “What if some of them go from one pile of shit to another?”

  She nods, both she and Victoria fully focused on me, each wearing curious expressions.

  Shit here is risky and dangerous most of the time. We know this. There’s always a new issue popping up after the last, a casualty of some kind, but our people are treated like equals until they fuck up, there’s no abuse, and we don’t allow senseless hate. When we find out about any of these types of things, the ones who gave it are met with a harder form of it.

  At the end of the day, shit’s pretty good around here, in a fucked-up, crossroads kind of way.

  It can be good for anyone who wants it bad enough.

  Can’t it?

  Raven tips her head, a perceptive glint in her light eyes. “Royce?”

  I look from Victoria to Raven, two girls who came from ugly places, wanted more, and found it right fucking here.

  “What if we fucked-up and got something wrong?”

  The girls share a look, slowly bringing their focus back to me, but the conversation is squashed when Zoey’s little hand finds mine.

  “Hu-mon, Uncle Bro! Be on my team.” She gives a hard jerk of her head and I follow as she tugs on me. “Let’s beat these boys!”

  We all laugh, and then we spend the next hour playing keep away, refusing to call it a night until Raven is passed out on Maddoc’s lap, and Cap is lifting a sleeping Zoey off of a beanbag.

  It wasn’t that long ago that it used to be just the three of us staying up late together, especially since Maddoc hardly ever slept before Raven, and then when she came along, his nights were full.

  Not that they weren’t right there with us most evenings, but before they’d get too tired, they’d disappear—what couple doesn’t want a few non-sleeping hours in bed alone?

  Me and Cap would last a few longer, watching movies and whatnot, but that changed too, as it should.

  I’m not and ne
ver will be mad about them spending time with their girls, and Cap has two to balance his time with.

  Shit, I’ll sometimes head to my room when it gets late so they don’t feel bad and stick around for me. I know they do sometimes.

  They would never, fucking ever, want me out of the mix and I love them for it, but they deserve their alone time.

  Right now, though, sitting up in my room at two in the morning, the others passed out in theirs...

  Not sure I’d admit it, but I’m itching beneath my skin.

  Will this forever be my new normal?

  My brothers with their girls, and me by my damn self?

  Untrusting.

  Unattached and uninterested.

  A fly-by fuck at best, not that I keep things quick, but ties are cut when the door closes behind me.

  That’s how I like it.

  Ain’t it?

  Nice and easy, thoughtless.

  Careless.

  Girl-less?

  My phone beeps on the bed at my side and annoyance heats my skin.

  This is when the calls and texts always roll in, after fuckin’ dark when I’m useful.

  With a sigh, I pick it up, and as I read the name on the screen, a frown takes over.

  Little Bishop.

  Suspicion forms in the pit of my stomach, and it feels a lot like disappointment, which annoys the shit out of me.

  I scoff to myself.

  I should have known.

  I’ve got to admit, she almost fooled me, acting all ordinary and genuine and shit, or as ordinary as a kind of odd girl who was robbed of... everything can manage.

  But a text in the middle of the night?

  Fuckin’ please.

  I guess she’s no different than any other girl after all, but looking to entice with some late-night pillow talk, probably hoping I didn’t already cut out of her bunk ass town and will offer to bring her to my hotel for what she really wants but hid well.

  She acted all unaffected, like I wasn’t her type or something.

  Yeah, okay.

  I’m everyone’s type and here she’s proving it.

  This is good shit, though. I nod to myself.

  Real good.

  Now that the curtain’s dropped, I can forget about everything else.

  I roll over, flipping my pillow in the process and close my eyes.