Break Me

by Meagan Brandy

  “It’s called weakness. Fear of backlash.”

  “It’s called not being a dick, and what kind of privileged asshole are you to think I have to share a single thing that happens in my pretty little head with you or anyone else?”

  “That,” I snap, a slow grin following. “Is more like it.”

  Her eyes fly to mine, holding, and a small laugh leaves her. “So which is it, Playboy, you want me to play the lamb or the lion?”

  My muscles flex beneath my shirt. “How ‘bout my lamb, the world’s lion?”

  Wait, what?

  I’m about to take it back, erase the line from the universe but then she fails to hide her smile.

  She looks away. “You’re impossible. And kind of bipolar.”

  “Nah,” I drag out. “I’m a fuckin’ cake walk.”

  “Maybe I hate cake.”

  “Maybe you’re lying.”

  She laughs.

  “I think we’re gonna enjoy this wanton, Playboy,” Raven says, pulling everyone’s attention to her. “I kind of like you guys’ foreplay.”

  Maddoc shakes his head with a smirk while Brielle looks ready to walk away.

  Or apologize.

  Or maybe deny.

  Wait, did she say foreplay?

  Raven turns to her. “For real, though, do you not wanna watch the fights?”

  “I can’t watch people getting their heads... beat on,” Brielle admits with a hesitance that has me pausing.

  “It does get ugly,” Raven’s honest. “But it’s stopped before any real damage is done.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.” Brielle’s tone is clear, her voice strong.

  I expect myself to snap at her, but it never comes, a completely different train of thought slipping in.

  There you go, Tink.

  Raven’s eyes tighten at first, but she appreciates someone who speaks their mind and smirks next. “Guess we can’t, can we?”

  Brielle offers her a small smile, tension lining her eyes and hiding something deeper behind them as she turns to me.

  “Mind if I stay inside?” she asks.

  Asks.

  After all the push back just now, she’s doing what I wanted, recognizing I’m the fucking gatekeeper and asking for permission.

  Not running off or demanding or telling me what she will and won’t do.

  Not fighting, but showing a hint of obedience, what we’ve chased for years.

  What my brother fought fierce and wild for with Raven only to share it in the end.

  What Captain created in the bedroom when his woman wouldn’t budge.

  Not that this shit’s any kind of the same, she ain’t mine like they’re theirs.

  She’s a job, I’m her boss, and she’s asking for my permission, as she should.

  I should be kissing my own ass ‘cause good shit, right?

  I didn’t even have to fight her for it.

  So, why the fuck am I annoyed, ready to tear at her?

  I don’t.

  I keep my face blank, shrug my shoulders and I motion for the bartender, not bothering to spare her another glance. “Fuck if I care.”

  I know she doesn’t look away. I sense her trailing my movement as I grab the half bottle from the bottle boy rather than the single glass on the tray.

  I take a swig and walk toward the door.

  “Do what you want, little Bishop,” I blow her off. “But don’t forget Micah’s your ride, be good to go when he is or get stranded.”

  “I will be.” She speaks to my back.

  I don’t say anything else, instead leading the group out of the building and to our seats. We climb up and get ready for a fight, but not before I pull my phone out to text Micah the direction of a single word.

  Me: leave.

  Raven laughs at my side, shaking her head. “Ah, Ponyboy. This is going to get interesting.”

  Interestingly irritating.

  Brielle

  It’s after two when I finally step from the bathroom with my robe wrapped around me, and I’m more than surprised when I find Maybell sitting on the edge of my bed.

  I wince. “Did I wake you up? I tried to be quiet.”

  She waves me off with a low chuckle. “No, child. I was doing bed checks.” She eyes me. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “No. I tried to call my brother, but I guess he’s busy doing... whatever it is he does, so figured I’d paint my nails and shower while I waited for a call back.” I shrug. “No luck yet.”

  A slight frown mars her forehead, but she smiles through it. “I’m sure he’ll call, child.” She looks away, but comes right back and switches gears. “I wanted to thank you.”

  I step farther into the room. “For what?”

  “I heard you invite my new girl with you tonight.”

  “I thought I was the new girl?” I tease.

  She chuckles. “No child, you’re the new... well, never mind.” She winks. “Valine came a few weeks ago and she’s a tough one.”

  “Yeah, I kind of got that when instead of a yes or a no, I got a ‘F you’.”

  Maybell smiles. “But baby steps are better than no steps at all, hm?”

  I nod.

  “The others, they don’t quite understand her,” she shares.

  “Trying to understand is the problem.” I chuckle and she joins in. “People don’t like being asked questions, I figured that out a long time ago, so you kind of have to just... hang out, talk about nothing. Not that I know much about that anymore, but it worked when I was a kid.” I shrug. “Sometimes all they need is someone to stare at the sand with.”

  “That’s exactly right.” She nods, a soft searching in her eyes that stirs something inside me. “I think you’ll do well here.”

  I try to force my smile away, but she catches it and a low laugh leaves her as she stands and moves toward the door only to pause there and turn back. “I think a stray might have come through your window tonight.”

  My confusion must be evident as she motions toward something shiny sitting beneath the windowsill.

  I look from it to her.

  She raises a dark brow. “The thing does lock, if you ever decide you might want it to.”

  My neck warms and I nod. “Got it.”

  She chuckles. “I guess I should tell you that it won’t stop the boy if you did, he’d just come right through the door and cause a stir.”

  I laugh, not at all doubting her words.

  With a wink, she walks out, closing my door behind her, and I waste no time moving toward the window.

  I lift the small bag and lower it into the seat it was placed on.

  I look outside, into the night, and almost swear I see a Royce-size silhouette deep inside the orchards, but I can’t say for sure.

  I peek inside the bag and a quick laugh breaks from me.

  A piece of freaking cake.

  I search the darkness once more, and what do you know... the silhouette is gone.

  This cake’s about to be, too.

  Chapter 16

  Royce

  She’s watering the tomato plants when I sneak up behind her, pinching her by the hips.

  She whips around with a light yelp, the hose pointed right at my damn chest.

  “Fuck!” I jump back.

  Brielle’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, I...” She trails off, but then her shoulders start to shake, and she can no longer hold it in.

  She laughs loudly, bending back a bit and everything, one hand coming up to cover her mouth while the other lifts, spraying me with the fuckin’ hose again on accident and the girl only rolls harder.

  I’m already soaked when I dash forward to grab the shit from her hand and toss it to the ground, but she keeps laughing.

  “Sorry,” she chokes back her amusement, clearing her throat as she stands as tall as Mighty Mouse is able. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m fuckin’ drenched.”

  “My bad.” She smiles. “At least it’s only water.”

  �
�Oh, only water.” I raise a brow, bending to grab the thing.

  I expect her to run, warn me, or at least say something about how her makeup and hair is done and not to ruin it—it is, but she doesn’t.

  Brielle smiles. “Go for it, rain man. It’s hot out here.”

  I frown, throwing the thing back to the ground. “What’s the point if it doesn’t piss you off?”

  “Maybe it’s reverse psychology.”

  “Maybe not.”

  She laughs, walking closer. “Yeah, maybe not.”

  I glance around, spotting a few of the other girls on the opposite side of the yard pulling weeds. “You don’t have to do house chores, so why are you?”

  “To keep it equal.”

  I frown. “It’s not equal, I told you that.”

  “It’s fine, it’ll help keep the peace in the house.” She shrugs.

  “Playing the noblewoman card, huh?”

  “Oh yeah.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “Next up, betrothing a prince.”

  I scoff, and when she bends down, picking up two small pieces of garbage, I lean over her to turn off the hose.

  “Nah, a prince wouldn’t do the trick.”

  She pushes back to her feet, smiling at her hands as she tugs the gardening gloves off. “Oh, you don’t think so?”

  “I know so.”

  She smirks. “Do tell.”

  “A prince chases power, but has no command of his own, forever waiting for his time to lead. Too blameless to be brutal, too decent to be a dick. He’s weak until he’s forced to make a real move. Good-hearted ‘cause he’s never been in the dark.”

  She frowns. “You don’t think I’d be enough?”

  I reach forward, flicking her hair and her eyes come up to mine.

  “Tell me, little Bishop, what’s a prince who’s never even seen the dark... gonna do with a girl who lived it most her life?”

  She opens her mouth, but closes it, a look in her eye I don’t recognize. “You think I need more,” she says quietly.

  A bridled warning blares in my brain, forcing me a step back. “You’re putting words in my mouth. Don’t.”

  The soft gleam in her gaze is still way too present, but she goes for playful. “Well come on then, Mr. Miyagi, break it down for me. Don’t hold back, remember?”

  “You know the sayin’, Tink. Do as I say, never as I do.”

  “What an easy out,” she muses with a smile. After a second, she clears her throat. “So, I’m almost done for the day. Me and Micah were thinking about checking things out, finding a waterhole or something somewhere. Want to come?”

  Annoyance slams over me, erasing the last few minutes.

  “Do I want to come with you and Micah?”

  Her eyes tighten, but she nods.

  I lick my suddenly dry lips, gripping my shirt near my chest and pulling the wet material away from my skin. “When’d you plan this?”

  “On the ride home last night,” she tells me, glancing over her shoulder quickly as she drops the soiled gloves in a garbage bag.

  “So you’re gonna run around town with Micah all day, huh?”

  She looks my way, gliding her fingertips along her temple, a curious expression on her face. “And Valine.”

  “Valine.”

  She nods. “Tall, tan, curly brown hair,” she lays out her basics as if I don’t know who lives in our group homes and need a reminder. “Miss Maybell said she has the hardest time with her. I guess she’s tough to handle, doesn’t get along with the girls, but I taught her how to make omelets today and she didn’t try to burn me with the frying pan.”

  “That’s how you decided she’s not a serial killer?”

  Brielle laughs. “I think she needs some free minutes of careless fun, I know I do.”

  “That’s weak-minded.”

  She studies me and then starts walking backward for the house. “Right, well, you have fun doing whatever it is strong-minded people do, and maybe I’ll see you later.”

  “Man, little Bishop, you’re on a fuckin’ roll, aren’t ya?” flies from my mouth before she can get a step farther. “Already got friends, plans, and a backbone.”

  She gapes at me. “Are you serious right now?”

  “Are you?” I snap.

  Her head draws back.

  “I’m sorry,” she drags out, tipping her head like a brat. “Am I supposed to feel bad right now, because that’s crap. I’ve spent four years studying, sitting in the dark, fixing things other people broke, all while having no choice but to go to a school I hated, in a town that hated me. So, if you’re trying to guilt me for wanting to spend a couple hours with someone my own age, who doesn’t look at me and assume they know who I am, and do something fun and simple, don’t. It won’t work.”

  “You sure?” I walk toward the porch and call her out like an asshole. “‘Cause you look like you’re ‘bout to cry.”

  She throws her hands up with a little growl and stomps her ass two steps down, bringing us eye level, face-to-fucking-face. Our mouths dangerously close and both curved with frowns.

  “You know what, fine,” she forces past clenched teeth. “Call me a liar because now I do feel guilty, but only because for a split clearly wasted second I thought maybe I hurt your feelings for not asking you first. That’s dumb of me though because you’re the one who said I’m not here to be your friend.”

  “You forget where I said don’t trust those who want to be yours?”

  “Well, good thing for me, Valine isn’t interested. I’m pretty much forcing myself on her ‘cause sometimes that’s what helps break through to people. She’s alone in her mind, like I have been for years. Sue me for not wanting someone to deal with what I have.”

  “Little Miss Fixer, huh?”

  “I don’t want to fix anyone, and it’s not like we’re off to get matching flower tattoos or brushing each other’s hair. I only want to offer my company to someone who might actually want it, even if she says different.”

  Maybe I want it.

  Wait, no.

  No. no...

  I get us back on track. “And Micah? How’s he fit into this?”

  “I’ve gone to school with him for years, Royce. I know him well.”

  “Well,” I repeat. “Which kind of well, little Bishop?” I shuffle closer until my shoe has no more room against the step. “You know what kind of topping he likes on his pizza, or is it that you know the face he makes when he comes?”

  I wait for her to shout, deny, or run away to cry, but she does none of this.

  Instead, she calls me out.

  “Don’t stand here and act like you didn’t ask him all this when you hired him, and no,” she bites out. “He didn’t tell me that. I knew I was being watched, and two and two makes four.”

  Watching her?

  “What do you mean watching you?”

  She sighs. “There’s no reason to deny it now.”

  I’m not denying shit. He was watching her, but for a fucking day to make sure no bullshit came her way because of me.

  Maybe her brother has someone loosely looking out for her after all?

  A horn honks from across the yard, and we both look to find Micah hopping out, nothin’ but a pair of swim trunks on.

  Fit little fucker.

  He grins, holding a hand up as if to tell her they leave in five, offering me a tip of his chin before he disappears around the side of the boys home.

  Mine and Brielle’s eyes move back to each other’s.

  “Better go, little Bishop.” I slide a few spots backward, fighting off the irritation crawling up my skin. “Got people waiting on you.”

  In the blink of an eye, her features smooth out, and she’s stepping down the porch.

  “That’s it,” she whispers.

  Another step down.

  She flails me with a look of realization. Of understanding, and my muscles begin to coil.

  “There’s no one home, is there?” she asks quietly, dropping a shoulder agai
nst the old post. “Your brothers, the girls...” She pauses, tipping her head slightly. “They’re out today?”

  I scoff, shaking my head as I turn to walk away, a heavy twist in my ribs.

  Annoyance.

  That’s what it is.

  She’s fucking annoying and out of line and—

  “Royce,” she calls and way too fuckin’ tender-like.

  Like she gets it.

  Like she gets me.

  I stop walking, telling myself not to look back, but do it anyway.

  A small smile is what I find.

  “I wanted to ask you to show me around today, but I thought you’d laugh or, you know.” She shrugs. “Tell me to piss off.”

  Damn if I don’t clench my teeth to keep my lips from twitching.

  “Maybe that makes me sound lame, but it’s the truth,” she admits.

  “I told you, don’t let fear stop you from a damn thing. Ever.” I look from her silver hair to her turquoise eyes. “Next time you want to ask me something, do it.”

  “I never said I was afraid.” Her body sways slightly as her eyes move between mine. “But I will, and maybe next time you want to bring me cake... you’ll stay long enough for me to say thank you.”

  Thank me, like she did in that single text the night after I left her, when she realized I got the dickhead, who might have ran his mouth about the lonely girl I found in the dark on my lonely late-night drive.

  A text I thought for sure was her colors showing, the inner bloodhound coming out as it does with every other girl who comes near me and mine. But that’s not at all what it was, and I was slapped in the face with a different kind of confusion, an unfamiliar one.

  She thanked me.

  It wasn’t delivered with unnecessary innuendos or phrases that could read naughty or nice, leaving it to me to decipher her true intentions.

  It was simple, honest, and real fuckin’ unexpected.

  The girl thanked me for fixing my own fuck-up, and it made me feel like a dick, ‘cause damn, I’m the piece of shit who couldn’t say for sure it was for her benefit.

  I like to think it was, ‘cause the alternative pisses me off and makes no fuckin’ sense.

  What did I care if people thought she was easy and made a play for her, right?