I toss and turn for another hour before curiosity eats me up inside and forces my hand.
I pick up my phone.
Let’s see how quick, harmless little Bishop faded, allowing her true colors to ring through now that she realizes her opportunity to bag a Bray did to.
I open the text and read it.
My face falls, my phone right there with it.
Fuck.
I glare at the ceiling.
Shit.
I flip over, growling into my pillow as something that feels a lot like thrilling frustration stirs in my gut.
I ignore that shit, but I can’t ignore the rest.
I jump up, reach for my phone and shoot a text out to Mac, my head falling back after it’s good and sent.
I guess it’s fuckin’ settled.
Brielle
I rush into first period with a minute to spare, a half-eaten yogurt hidden at my side, and throw myself into my seat, Micah already in his beside me.
Micah nods his chin in welcome, but focuses on his phone while I try to catch my breath.
The bell rings not a second later and the teacher wastes no time taking roll. As he does, my phone begins to vibrate in the front pocket of my backpack.
I set the yogurt down and pull it out, my eyes freezing on the screen once I see the name flashing across it.
What the hell?
I hold it in my palm, staring at it until it stops ringing, and then it rings again.
Micah chuckles at my side, but the sound is one of shocked amusement, the kind of laugh that leaves you when you’ve witnessed a bad decision and the person making it is unaware.
My eyes fly to him and narrow as I blindly set the thing on my desktop.
Micah grins. “Bad fuckin’ move, girl.”
“Excuse me—” I cut off when the door is thrown open with a loud bang.
All eyes fly to the front of the room and oh. My. God!
Shock, cold and quick, spreads through me at the rate of a falling star, stealing my thoughts.
My breath.
My ability to move.
All I can do is stare at the tattooed hellion... who, kill me now, is headed right for me.
Dressed in a stark black hoodie and fashion faded jeans, Royce commands attention with his slow and eerie steps, darkening the brightly lit room with his presence alone, and creating a chill in the air that has the teacher frozen as solid as the rest of us. And we’re all frozen. Stuck.
Staring.
He stops right in front of me, and not a peep escapes me when he yanks, spins, and repositions the cheap plastic chair I’m sitting in.
Royce holds my eyes, leisurely trailing his to the screen of my phone that sits face up on the desk beside us and back.
His large hands come down, gripping onto the edges of my chair near my upper thighs, and he bends until we’re eye level.
His brows are plunged so low, his eyelids lay against his lashes, and his thick brown hair, while faded nice and clean on the side, is a wild mess of untamed strands along the top, and nearly creeping into his vision.
His chin is tucked a bit, head tipped an inch to the right.
He’s every bit of dark and displeased.
“Little Bishop.” His voice is a firm mix of bored and brash.
“Royce.” I shake my head. “What—”
“I gave you one rule.”
I blanch. “Rule.”
Rule?
“I told you when I call, you answer, and guess what?” He dips a little closer. “You didn’t answer.”
I gape at him, and then a not so quiet laugh escapes, my hand coming up to cover it as I stare wide-eyed at the guy in front of me.
The crazy thing is he’s not joking, and my laughter is far from amusing to him.
And then I remember I’m in class.
The teacher is in class.
He is in my freaking class!
I chance a glance around the room, at the teacher in the front of it, and as if I woke him from his frozen state, Mr. Lin jerks forward.
“Young man, what do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
“Talking,” Royce snaps, and my cheek burns with his stare.
Mr. Lin pauses his advance. “Well, that will have to wait until later.”
When Royce doesn’t move or show any sign of listening, I face him again.
“Royce,” I hiss.
Mr. Lin heads toward the class phone. “You need to leave my class.”
Royce’s eyes burn into mine and he nods. “Yeah, you’re right. I do.”
He lets go of my chair and pushes to his full, overwhelming height.
I breathe a sigh of relief... that lasts a whole three seconds, on the fourth, Royce is behind me, bends and lifts my chair off the floor... with me still on it.
A light scream leaves me, but I quickly cut it off because there is absolutely nothing I can do about it... nothing but hold on for dear life.
Once we’re in the hall and around the corner, he sets me down only to grab me by the hand, tug me up, and out the double doors.
I stumble to keep up with his quick steps but he makes sure I don’t lose my footing, and then we’re standing in front of a fancy town car, the back door wide open and waiting for someone to climb inside it.
He lets go and turns to me, but before he can say anything, Micah is beside us, handing him my backpack.
“That everything?” He takes it without looking.
Micah nods. “She doesn’t have a locker.”
I frown between the two, my face pulled tight with confusion.
Were they not about to fight two days ago?!
Royce nods, and Micah disappears as fast as he showed.
It’s just the two of us again.
He shifts closer, grips my wrist and lifts it between us, inspecting the small strip of gauze wrapped tight around my palm.
“Me versus a broken vase,” I feel the need to explain. “The vase sort of won.”
His fingers flex against my skin, near the hints of super glue I couldn’t get off, and those dark eyes flick to mine.
He releases me, tossing my backpack onto the black leather seat. “Get in.”
I suck my stomach in, cutting a quick glance at the driver in the front seat. “Why?”
“Because you want to.”
My eyes fly to his, and his head falls back lazily, almost daring I challenge his statement, yet somehow confident I won’t.
Because I want to.
Do I want to?
Questions knock heavily within my mind, but they’re a jumbled mess of half spurred thought.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
I look inside the dimly lit space and back to him. And then I slide inside.
It’s not until we’re pulling up at an airstrip where Mac stands outside of a small plane with the airstairs open and waiting, that I remember I’m the underdog, locked in a car with the top dog.
My head snaps to Royce, who watches me intently.
My mind races as I stare at the stranger in front of me, at a guy I was warned about, and for some reason, my head decides to nod when not a question was asked.
Satisfaction flashes across him, but it’s gone as soon as he blinks and slowly, he steps out, helping me right behind him.
Royce’s eyes move between mine. “Hope you’re ready, little Bishop.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Ready for what... exactly?”
He looks up at the plane that has his last name printed large and proud on the side with open eyes and an answer that steals my voice. “To come home.”
A harsh and fast breath slips past my lips and my palm flies to my stomach, in an attempt to settle the somersaults going strong inside it.
Home.
As in to Brayshaw.
I think I’m going to puke.
Chapter 8
Royce
I spent the last twenty-four hours going back and forth with myself, but if I’m real, I kn
ew before I even made it home I’d see her again and why—to bring her home with me.
Like I talked to the girls about, I don’t know what happened to any of the people we didn’t bring into our group homes, but I do know what happened to this one, so I’m going to fix what was fucked.
It was on the word of a punk who believed he knew what was best for her that we sent the girl away in the first place, but now I know that punk was wrong.
All this time she could have had a team behind her, a brother next door, a life to fucking live, but instead she’s been alone in the dark when darkness is what he wanted to shield her from. A different form of darkness, sure, but still. The girl was stuck with an aunt who hated the mere sight of her. She was a personal little Ms. Fuckin Fix It, had a cousin who treated her like shit, in a town she wanted nothing from because she knew they’d never accept her.
He’d understand all that if he spent ten minutes there, which is exactly how I know he hasn’t.
If he were smart, he’d realize he left her with nothing.
Nothing but a curious little mind.
Who better to open it up for her than me?
This worked out perfectly, really. I’m giving her a chance at a life that was taken from her and I get to use her to spite Bass while doing it, all in one move.
A smirk finds my lips.
I’m going to give the girl the opposite of everything Bass wanted for his baby sister, make her realize exactly why big bro wanted her far, far away... once she realizes it was he who made the call.
In the end, it’ll all be Bishop’s fault.
He chose to shelter her when he should have put some fuckin’ time into her, teach her how to eat up and spit out assholes like me. And he could have with ease. She’s got fire, that’s easy to see, but nobody’s fed it.
Lucky for me, he didn’t, and now I get to have my cake and eat it too.
Mac pulls me from my thought when he takes the seat across from me, glancing down the small aisle where Brielle is taking a second to breathe.
“So she agreed.” He keeps his voice low.
I pull a bottle of Crown from the center pocket between the seats, offering him a shot as I pour my own. “She didn’t refuse.”
He raises a brow, taking the small glass and bringing it to his lips. “If she had?”
I laugh, keeping my gaze on his as I reach inside the console again, lift and set down a third cup.
He grins, shakes his head and downs his in one long swig.
I sit back and swirl mine around, my focus glued to the amber liquid.
If I had to guess, I’d say she understood.
She was coming whether she wanted to or not.
But I’m not convinced she didn’t want...
Brielle
Holy crap, I shouldn’t be here.
I should call my brother.
I definitely should not call my brother.
I mean, he’ll figure it out soon enough—the plane ride is only an hour and a half long.
If Bass knew how living with my aunt really was, I have no doubt he’d have found a way to come back for me, but I have never said a word because I didn’t want him to give up the chance he was given.
The Brays may not have wanted me, the puny little sister then, but they wanted him, and he deserved a chance in hell and more after freeing us from ours. I owe him my life, and I’ll likely never be able to repay him for all he’s done for me, but this might be my chance to earn my own.
I would be a fool not to take it.
If everything works out, Bass will get to keep the life he loves, save the money he earns, and I get my brother back.
That might be the only reason I even stepped onto this plane.
I run my fingertips along the cool, marble countertops and pluck a grape that hangs from a bundle draped perfectly over the edge of a crystal vase that I really hope is glued in place.
I spin around, leaning against the counter, my eyes landing on the plush, ribbed white seats.
I’ve never been on a plane, and now I’m on a fancy private one with a guy I was never meant to meet.
Who was supposed to leave my aunt’s little town believing my cousin was me and never look back.
I sigh, running my hands over my face and into my hair, gripping it loosely only to let it fall back into place.
God, this is so far from how any of this was meant to go.
Royce showed up on Tuesday morning and come that night, he was gone.
I woke up Wednesday prepared to begin the whole ‘forget the Bray’ process.
But then I got to school, and who happened to be walking up at the same exact moment as me?
Travis.
I steeled myself for his insult, but it never came. In fact, when he noticed me, he forced his eyes to skate right by. His black eyes, and just like that, the night before made sense.
Royce had rushed back into the diner to make sure his little show wasn’t one that would be shared, because he didn’t want me to have to deal with what I told him would follow.
After that, I spent most of the day overanalyzing everything that happened when he was here. How he got upset when Franky put his hands on me, how my cousin acting like an ass bothered him, his little freak-out over me being outside at night alone and how he later played it down.
A smile finds my lips.
That might have been my favorite part, along with everything that followed.
I got to talk to someone that night, really talk, and about things that nobody cares to hear from me. Maybe I gave too much, but I don’t care.
It felt good and Royce... I knew he heard me. Really heard me. It was all there, in his shadowy eyes.
I decided, like I pretend the bad in my life has a purpose, Royce pretends he’s this cavalier Casanova, but in my short time with him, I recognized the truth.
Royce Brayshaw has a heart.
It might be coated in toxic candy, but it’s there.
Later that night, after the darkness came, the fog followed, and stole the stars from sight, so all that was left was me. I was sitting in the grass with a running mind I tried to clear, but with each buried thought came another, all followed with a sense of compulsion.
I felt a need and acted on it by texting a guy I had no business texting.
Royce didn’t reply, of course, but I didn’t send it for a response. I sent it because I wanted to. Because it felt right.
I pull my phone from my pocket and pull up the message again.
Me: Thank you for what you did. Travis didn’t say a word.
It might seem silly, thanking him when the entire situation was his fault for opening his own cocky mouth in the first place, but I don’t care.
Cocky.
Mouth.
Aaand now I’m thinking about his cock down my cousin’s throat.
“You good over there?”
I jump, my phone falling to the floor and Mac laughs, picks it up and hands it over, choosing to lean on the cabinet opposite of me.
“So.” He tips his head.
“So is this thing really going where he says, or are you throwing me out over the ocean somewhere?”
He grins. “It’s going where he says.”
I nod, and then it hits me. My eyes go wide. “Oh my god. What about all my stuff? My aunt?”
“Taken care of. Micah’s loading it as we speak. It’s about a ten-hour drive, so he’ll be in tonight sometime.”
My head tugs back. “Micah?”
Mac nods. “He was always nice to you, right? Never pulled no shit?”
“I mean... yeah. He was nice enough.”
Mac nods. “He’s gonna be staying at the boys’ home, you’ll be in the girls.”
Well, that’s unexpected.
Mac nods toward the table where a large silver platter, full-on with a matching lid, sits. It’s something you’d see in a gourmet kitchen... or a horror movie with a chopped off head tucked tight under it. “Grab something, come sit.”
> And then he’s gone.
I lift the lid and a smile breaks over my face.
A dozen sprinkle donuts and a still wrapped pack of Yoo-hoos, but beside them, a small turquoise box.
I run my fingers along the outer edge, reading the note scribbled right on top.
Your cousin’s a bitch and your fix-it days are over. Time to fly.
A low chuckle leaves me, and I open it up to find a pair of sunglasses sitting inside.
I stare at them for a long moment, and then finally pull them from the box and slip them over my eyes.
“Perfect fit.”
I spin to find Royce leaning in the spot I just was, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes on me.
The perfect fit.
I take a deep breath.
Let’s hope I am too.
Chapter 9
Royce
“A jet.” Maddoc pulls himself up on the ledge of the pool
“A badass jet.”
He licks his lips, gauging me. “You bought a jet... to get to a girl?”
I see what he’s trying to do, little fucker. “No.” I grin. “I bought a jet ‘cause I wanted it. We need a vacation and in case something happens when we take one, a way to get back quick.”
“And in case you needed to get to this girl quick.”
I glare and both my dickhead brothers grin.
“So Raven was right.” Maddoc looks from his wifey to me. “Your lonely ass drive did fuck you up.”
I splash his ass, but turn to my niece when her water shoes bump into me.
She’s lying flat on her back, little star-shaped shades on, her feet hanging over the edge of the donut-shaped raft—I bought that for her, thank you very much.
I shake the thing lightly and then steal her off of it to kiss her cheek.
“What do you think, Zoey Bear? Tell your daddy you wanna go on an airplane.”
“And fly way up in the sky?” She smiles, her hands thrown up on her head.
“Way the heck in the sky.”
She kicks to be let down and swims to Captain. “Daddy, I wanna fly!”
He laughs, lifting her. “Oh, you’ll fly all right, ready?”
Break Me Page 9
