I step around the driver’s side, listening as I too focus on the car.
“We hopped out with the car still rolling and ran. Bishop had this asshole by the neck, a knife to him.”
I must gasp as his eyes pop up to mine briefly.
“Then we spotted Raven falling against the car—the girl on the ground wasn’t her. She was white as a fuckin’ ghost, about to fall on her ass. She called for Bass, and he didn’t hesitate, dropped the guy instantly. He left his back blind and went for her, just like that.”
I take a deep breath.
“We were running up right as the motherfucker stood. It was a guy we trusted not long before that. Our friend, his friend.”
“Who was it?”
He hesitates and then says, “His name was Leo, he was a towheaded little bitch, sharpest shot we’d ever seen. In Leo’s mind, Raven took a place he wanted, but he was too dumb to realize it wasn’t a place we knew would be filled. Bass was already ahead of him, but they were cool, so when Bass was suddenly the one called on, Leo grew even more bitter. He was fucking up before then, but obviously, it took over his weak little mind, enough to try to take our own out.”
Jesus. I swallow. “So what happened when Leo got up?”
“He ran for Bass’ back, a big-ass piece of broken glass in his grip. Maddoc went for Raven.”
“And you helped my brother.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Shouldn’t have had to. He should have called when she asked him to take her somewhere.”
“But he didn’t, and you still had his back.”
Royce glares at the busted airbags. “He had hers, and not just that time.”
“Was he in love with her?”
“Nah, I don’t think so, but only he could say for sure.” He pauses, and then says, “They both came from a fucked-up place, so he understood her, and she understood him.”
“Where’s Leo now?”
He eyes me. “Ask your brother. I tried to get Bass to leave the crash site with us, but he refused, said he knew just where to take Leo to drown him out.”
“Drown him out... my brother didn’t know how to swim.”
He shrugs. “Maybe Leo didn’t either.”
I sigh, looking along the car. “My brother. He’s not here, is he?”
“No,” he answers instantly, watching me closely.
“Did you make him leave?”
He stares a long hard moment and then shakes his head.
No.
He didn’t make him leave.
He chose to leave and didn’t tell me.
Did he feel like he couldn’t?
My chest begins to ache as I stand in front of a car I’ve been waiting to find parked outside my aunt’s house for the past four years.
Bass said he was working to better our lives, and maybe he is, but what a shitty sister I’ve been to do nothing other than wait for his hand to take mine.
I’ve been sitting idle, waiting for my big brother to call and tell me it’s time, that we’d be a family again and build a new life somewhere away from it all. Start over.
Why should I be his responsibility?
Why should he have to grind his ass for anyone other than himself?
Maybe he no longer wants the added weight a little sister brings?
He didn’t ask for the messed-up life we had, and he’s already saved me once, many times if I count all the days and nights he took the beatings for me.
I step back, eyeing the Cutlass, flashes of the day he was finally given the keys, still too young but able to reach the pedals to drive it, coming back and with it, the ache of the blows that followed increasing in numbers.
I never told my brother how every time he’d leave for an angry evening’s drive, angrier hands would come down on me.
He needed his escape, and I was okay with being the punching bag that allowed him that.
I was younger, thinner, and weaker, smaller all around, but for a few short minutes, I was protecting him.
Or that’s what I convinced myself.
Anger swims in my stomach, stiffening my muscles as pressure builds behind my eyes.
My dad told me if I wanted it to stop, I’d tell my brother to stay home.
I lied to my dad and said I begged Bass to, often, but he wouldn’t listen, all so my dad would think Bass didn’t care as much as our dad thought he did.
If I really had asked, Bass would have stayed without hesitation, sold the car and stashed the cash so the desire to hop behind the wheel was never there. My dad would have then used the knowledge to hurt us in a different way.
Bass by going after me, me by going after him.
My hands begin to sweat.
I’m so sorry, brother. It’s time for you to live your life without having to worry about mine.
I lift the bat over my head, bringing it down with all my might, and the windshield shatters the rest of the way, breaking off and falling into the front seats of the car.
I lift it again, taking it to the back ones. I swing and swing, from right to left, left to right, until, finally, they too bust through.
I growl and grunt, the bat between my shaky hands held high in the air when suddenly Royce is at my back. He uses his hips to push me forward until my body is pressed into the car.
His hands start at the curve of my elbow, warning me they’re coming, and slide up from there, not stopping until his fingers are spread wide along mine. He wraps his palms over my hands and pushes even closer.
I’ve got it is what I imagine he’d whisper if he felt the need to speak, but his body does it for him, strong and firm and unmoving.
I let go.
My arms fall like dead weight, but with his held up the way they are, the way mine were, mine can only drop backward, over our heads.
My elbows rest over his chest near his shoulders, my wrists lying perfectly at the curve of his neck, our height is so different.
When he doesn’t force them down, I make a risky move. I give him all my weight, hoping he’ll accept it and close my eyes as blackness takes over them.
He does with zero hesitation.
My heart pounds wildly in my chest, and I attempt to calm it, but each breath comes out choppier than the last, more ragged.
Royce’s arms drop back, his fingers finding and lacing over mine at the base of his neck. He folds them there.
I hold on to him, but really, it’s he who is holding on to me.
I turn my head to the left and tilt it up a bit so my cheek rests near the beat of his heart and focus on the tempo.
I breathe him in, blend into him, our heartbeats in sync.
“Slow and steady,” he rasps.
Deep and full.
His hands release mine, and when mine don’t fall, he wraps his long fingers around my wrist and tugs.
My eyes pop open and it takes several seconds for the fog to clear, and then they meet his.
He watches me a long moment, and at my back, his chest rises a little fuller, falls a little faster.
Suddenly his hands are on my hips and I’m spun around, his body pressing into mine as his features pull tighter and tighter, the muscles of my stomach doing the same.
His fingers twitch against my skin, pressing firmer and tugging some unexpected strings low in my abdomen.
This isn’t what it feels like, Brielle. Don’t fool yourself.
Don’t fall.
He slips closer, his right hand coming up, his knuckle glides up my breastbone, my neck, until it’s resting beneath my chin. He tips my head back, and his begins to lower.
His eyes are hard and focus on my mouth and I forget to breathe.
To blink.
To think.
My lips part.
A low groan leaves him.
All at once, the weight of his hands, the heat of his breath, and the pressure of his body is gone.
As if left starved, I drag in a desperate lungful of air, and his eyes cut away.
“Come on,” he sa
ys, a slight strain in his voice. “Let’s put this back.”
I nod, clearing my throat, and with slower steps, I follow behind him, stepping to the side as he leans into the back of the SUV.
“So.” I swallow, shifting us back into proper territory. “Do you keep a bat in all these cars?”
“Nah.” He shrugs a shoulder, and when he turns to me it’s with a straight face. “We keep three.”
I shake my head with a grin. “See, Three Musketeers... one for all. Not that that’s what it means, but it works.”
A light laugh leaves him, and with slower than normal movements, the two of us head out the way we entered. Thankfully, with each step taken, the heaviness of the last few minutes falls away.
When we step out front, there’s an empty SUV waiting.
Only when we’re pulling to a stop in front of the girls’ group home does he turn to me.
“You expected him to be here, that’s why you came without a fight.”
I nod.
He gauges me. “Now what?”
I drop my smile to my lap and push the door open, but he reaches over, yanking it closed.
When I turn, his face is right there. Right in mine.
“You stayin’ or not?” His tone is angry, but his eyes... they’re something else entirely.
My stomach dips.
He wants me to stay, I can sense it, but he doesn’t know how to say it.
“As if you’d give me the option,” I whisper with a hint of a smile.
His jaw muscles flex, his eyes falling to my mouth. “As if you’d need one.”
“I wouldn’t.”
His gaze snaps back to mine, and just like that, the air around him grows playful.
I knew it.
He grins, a low laugh leaving him as he shifts the SUV in gear. “I know.”
That grin? It turns to a smirk, and the worst kind.
The kind you sit and wonder about for hours upon hours because it could mean one of so many things.
However, that’s not what plagues me as the day goes on, but the truth behind my answer.
I do want to stay, and not for anyone else this time.
For me.
Royce
I don’t know how I knew she’d be waiting for me, but as I step out at the mansion, there she is.
Sitting on the porch with soft eyes and a knowing smile, Maybell pats the space beside her, so I don’t hesitate to drop right down.
“You knew she thought he was here, didn’t you?”
She nods, looking out over the trees. “She was too proud to be home, boy. I saw the longing in her those pretty eyes of hers,” she says quietly. “She was missing something, and he’s the only thing she thinks it is.”
We look to each other and I raise a dark brow. “Thinks it is?
“Yes, boy. Thinks,” she says, her tone stern. “Way I see it is what that girl needs is what she’s yet to realize she wants, as it’s something else entirely, but she’s getting there, more and more each day.” She bumps her shoulder into mine. “I know you’ll help her figure it out.”
I look away, glaring at the rocks in the driveway. “How exactly am I supposed to do that?” I can’t stop myself from asking even if I wish I could.”
Maybell stands and stares down at me. “By being you, while she’s busy being her.”
I frown and she chuckles.
“Trust me, boy.” She smiles and walks away.
Chapter 22
Royce
Brielle’s little freak-out sent everything to shit earlier today, but we’re used to things going off course, so we rested and rallied and here we are, round two-ing it only a handful of hours later.
The plan was always to be slick with this guy, catch him alone so we could do what was necessary to get the truth out of him, especially since we’re playing the waiting game on the other half of this issue. I might be reckless and wild, but that’s because I don’t give a shit. I am fully fucking capable of being careful and smooth when I have to be. Sort of.
I mean I am sipping on a bottle of water right now, but as Brielle walks into the room, a bottle of whiskey starts to sound real fucking nice.
The blood in my veins runs warm, and calls for a mandatory long, slow review of the five-foot, lively little thing.
Tight black pants that reach above her belly button, hiding the piercing I got a better—not at all good enough—look at when she stripped her top off at the water, and making me want to know what’s under there even more. Her shirt reaches where her pants end and is a plain, solid red, the same exact shade her lips are tinted tonight. Shiny and plump.
Speaking of plump, that ass.
Fuck me, that. Ass.
Peachy and round.
How’d she fit the thing in that bikini?
She shifts, glancing around the room, stretching her slender neck to see beyond where her frame allows.
She’s so tiny, I could lift her ass up—literally.
Yeah, I could get it nice and high, and right against the wall, high enough to put her sweet pussy level with my mouth. I’d start with my tongue, slide it out and between her legs, free her clit of her lips and suck it between mine.
I’d bite her, but just a little.
Yeah, she’d like that. Know she would.
I groan, stretching my leg out and only then do I realize hands slipped over my thigh, inching toward my junk.
I blink, spotting a heap of blonde hair leaning near my face, a shoulder that’s too broad to be my baby girl’s in my space.
Maddoc catches my eye from his seat beneath Raven and pointedly looks to my hand, clutched tight on the arm of the chair. I let go, instead curving it around Grace’s back as she sits on an ice chest to my right.
Grace. Yeah, that’s this chick’s name, but I don’t know why she’s over here.
Nobody invited her to sit.
Grace looks over her shoulder, grinning at me, and lowers her cup to her lap. “You know I’m willing to get out of here if you are.”
A laugh leaves me and my head falls to the side. “You’d give me what you got without making me earn it?”
I tense.
The fuck’d I just say?
Her expression mimics my inner thoughts, but she attempts to laugh it off. “I’d say it’s well earned.”
Right. Because of my name and the bragging rights that come along with it.
They want it.
Yeah, they. ‘Cause she’s just one of many, and I’m the guy that made it clear it’s an easy thing to accomplish.
Wanna fuck a Brayshaw? Go for the fucked-up one with tattoos you could never understand and a mind you could never live inside, a soul you could never reach. One and done.
You don’t have to get to know him, you don’t even have to like him, and the chump won’t even care, he’s that detached.
“Hey, Brielle.” Captain’s voice is loud, pulling me from my thoughts and forcing me into right now.
Brielle is right in front of us.
She waves at Captain, says hi to Raven and Victoria, and turns to me.
“Hey.” She grins and my thigh muscles clench.
I tip my chin, bringing my water to my lips.
“Hi.” Grace leans closer to me, and I wait for a sign from Brielle.
You want her away from me?
Brielle fucking smiles at her—no bitter, jealous mouth twist or calculated look in her eyes. Nothing but a damn smile, a genuine smile. “Grace, right? I think you’re in my English class,” she says.
My eyes cut to Maddoc’s.
Grace is silent at first, and then she sits forward. “Oh my god, yes! You convinced the teacher to allow us to use our notebooks for the final essay!”
She laughs with a shrug. “I casually reminded him the scores of his less-than-interested class would reflect on him as a teacher and might not look so good during raise and review time.”
“Girl, you saved my ass from getting my credit card taken away.” Grace giggles. “
Hey, you want to get a drink, I could use a refill?”
Brielle opens her mouth, but then closes it, glancing over her shoulder. I can’t see behind her, but when she looks back, unease lines her eyes and her fingers slip through her shiny, metallic-like hair, gliding through it nearer her temple as she likes to do when she’s thinking, unsure. Nervous.
Why you nervous, baby girl?
I don’t have to wonder long, a drink is held out in front of her only seconds later. A cup.
A cup, cup, as in an open top, drink already inside it, red Solo cup, cup. From the hands of someone who isn’t me.
Jonah’s face comes into view and I’m pretty sure I’ll rearrange it tonight.
When her smile lifts to meet his, I’m positive of it.
Fuck him.
Fuck her, too.
Her eyes come back to Grace. “It looks like I’ve got one, but we can go get one for you?”
Grace laughs, stands and doesn’t look back. Off they fucking go.
Raven waits for them to be out of earshot before she starts teasing. “Oh, man. How’s it feel, Ponyboy?”
I grunt, kicking back in my chair and downing my water bottle. “Pretty limp, if I’m honest.” I grin, turning to her. “Wanna check?”
She smirks, shaking her head and Maddoc flips me off. “You straight lost a piece of ass to the newest, nicest one in town.”
“You ain’t lyin’, RaeRae.” I push to my feet.
My family’s eyes pop up to mine.
“What are you doing, brother?” Maddoc watches me closely.
“Distracting myself. When it’s time, we deal and get the fuck out of here.”
“Yeah, and when we do, we takin’ Brielle with us?”
I grin as wide as I can.
“Nah, bro. She’s not with us. She stays.”
“And Jonah?” he pushes, knowing damn well what he’s doing.
Forcing me to face it, to feel it, the motherfucking gasoline as it seeps down my throat and waiting for the match to light me on fire. It’s coming.
I know it.
They sense it.
Break Me Page 23
