Raven stands over me, glare heavy and eyes heated. “How many times do you think you can push a girl before she tumbles?”
“Mac already told me fuckhead’s here now, RaeRae.” My hands lift. “It’s almost over.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my god. You called him.” She shakes her head “Royce, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“What’s the big fuckin’ deal?”
Her arm flies out. “Her fucking leaving with him, that’s what!”
“I’m giving her what she’s wanted from the beginning. News flash, RaeRae. It ain’t me.”
She scoffs, her palm slapping onto her forehead. “You really are an idiot.”
My lips tip up. “Never claimed I wasn’t. At least you see it now.”
“Don’t play your word games, they don’t work with me and you know it, and I know you. She leaves, and you will crash and burn. Hard.”
“I’m good with it.”
“Well, we aren’t.” She flashes. “Something fucks up with one of us and we all fuck up. Don’t do this.”
“Says the girl who blew up our fucking world, and more than once.”
“Did you not learn from that?!” she damn near screams, throwing a phone at my head.
“Fuck, RaeRae!” I push myself up, rubbing my skull.
“You’re a dumbass. Get up. Get your head out of your ass!”
“I failed her!” I shout, falling back against the netting. “I fucking failed her when I didn’t even know her, Raven. If that’s not a sure ass sign I’ll keep doing it, like I have several times now, I don’t know what is.”
Her features pull. “Are you talking about sending her to her aunt’s? Royce, that wasn’t on you.”
“Wasn’t it?” I argue. “We take people from shitty situations and help them out, offer them more, but what happens to the ones who don’t make it here? Or the ones like Brielle, who don’t even get a chance? We sent her away because we trusted it was better for her, and yeah, she didn’t get beat on with her aunt like she did with her parents, but it wasn’t fucking good.” I point toward the front of the house. “That girl’s had no one, for almost four fuckin’ years, not a soul to trust or body to hold on to. She was alone, in her house, in the dark, in her fucking mind. No friends, no family, other than a brother who was here, protecting mine while no one was around to protect her.” A humorless laugh scrapes past my lips. “How fucked is that?”
Raven offers a tight smile and small shrug. “You ever think maybe she was strong enough to handle all that by herself? That she didn’t need a hand to hold her, that she could make it on her own until it was time for her to... fall into the arms she was meant for?”
“What, mine?” I scoff and it burns in my throat. “Please. She’s everything I am, all that I’m not, and so much more. I could never be enough to deserve someone like her, and I refuse to steal her fucking light.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
I whip my head around to find Maddoc standing there, and he’s pissed. Fuming and damn near foaming at the mouth. He holds my gaze.
“You’re the reason we have what we have,” he snaps angrily, growing closer. “You believed in Raven first, led us into the thought of opening up to someone new. You saw something in Victoria we refused to until you convinced us to look deeper. When we break, you step up with a bottle and break with us. You don’t judge, you don’t push, and you don’t fucking run. If there was something in this life I couldn’t give Raven, I couldn’t live with that, but you’re stronger than I am, brother. If your girl for real loses her sight, you’ll find a way to make her see. No-fucking-body else will be able to give her that. You’re not her ruin, Royce, you’re her only fuckin’ recovery.”
“Think about it, Ponyboy,” Raven whispers. “You don’t get close to people, neither does she. She’s been alone, and you feel alone even when you’re not. Maybe that’s because deep down you feel something’s missing, something we can’t give you.” She stands with a shrug. “Maybe that something is her.”
“I told you to stop trying to convince yourself of something none of us, including Brielle, will ever be convinced of. I didn’t think a single soul would ever deserve to be loved by you, Royce Brayshaw, but now it’s so obvious it’s her. I know she will never want for anything in her life, she’ll never fear a soul, and she will never look back with regret,” she whispers. “Now get your ass up and go talk to that girl before Bass does something stupid we’ll be forced to kick his ass for, like tie her up and throw her in his car.”
My throat begins to clog. “And if she decides she wants to go with him?”
“Then you bare your broken boy soul to her and convince her otherwise. If that doesn’t work, we do the tying.” She lifts a shoulder. “Our town, our rules, right?”
I look to my brother who nods to Cap several yards away, keeping his eyes on the two who must still be near the porch and us tucked back here in the corner. He tips his chin.
I look to Raven and hold my hand out.
I don’t allow her to hold my weight, I know she’s still sore, but her grip is firm on mine.
She smirks. “Go on, Ponyboy. Show her what you’re made of.”
“Trust me, RaeRae,” I whisper. “She knows.”
Raven’s eyes dart to mine and then the three of us laugh.
We hop out, and toward the front of the house I go.
Ready or not, baby. Here I fucking come.
Chapter 34
Royce
With my keys in my hand, I run out the front door, and the sun punishes me for all the alcohol I’ve been drowning in, shocking and fogging my vision.
I squint, flopping a hand up to block the summer rays for a clearer look, and fuck me, I’m hit with every emotion all at once, my thoughts and vision coming back with a vengeance.
Brielle stands a few feet away, leaning against my ride all gorgeous and perfect-like with no makeup and tied back hair.
Something raw and deep burns in my gut, twisting and fucking turning.
Never in my life have I ever touched a girl harmfully.
I do all I can to protect people from shit like that, to hurt assholes who hurt others, especially girls, women.
This time I was the asshole. It’s my turn to hurt and goddamn if I’m not aching from the pain I’ve caused her, but it’s not enough.
I deserve so much worse, and Brielle...
Fuck man, Brielle.
I’ve met my fair share of people, and it’s rare to find someone who is both honest and loyal. To find someone who is those things and kind? Unjudging and just... more than you knew to exist?
That shit’s unheard of.
She deserves the fucking world.
A sad little smile curves those lips of hers and it serves as a cupid’s arrow through my chest, but the deadly one. The one with the red tip, coated in poison that eats away at your organs.
Baby girl... fuck.
I jog down the stairs and straight to her.
Her smile is soft and knowing, and she pushes off the side. “Took you long enough.”
“Tell me you’re not trying to leave.”
“I’m not trying to leave,” she whispers. “But you needed a little push to get you ahead in the game.”
I dart forward, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, my free hand coming up to the marking on her temple. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean... I can’t fucking believe...”
“I know.” She grips my wrist, pulling it to her mouth to kiss the edge of my tattoo there.
I dip, lifting her by the ass, holding her tiny body in my arms.
As if she’s meant to be right here, in my grasp, her legs need no leading, her arms no guidance, both wrapping around me for a better grasp. A stronger hold.
A fucking greedy grip.
As I stare at her, I’m overcome by the shit I caused, and my chin falls to my chest, but my baby, she doesn’t allow it.
She does what I do to her, using her knuckles to force
my eyes to hers. “Yeah,” she whispers. “You were a complete ass to me, and in front of everyone.”
My ribs ache and I squeeze her tighter. “I can’t believe I did this to you.” My hand goes back to the bruising on her face. “I never wanted to hurt you, and the shit I said to you.” My voice cracks. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”
“I know,” she rasps.
“I’m a bastard.”
“And I’m going blind.”
My eyes fly to hers, my organs seizing.
“Baby...” I shake my head, everything inside me aching for the gorgeous girl in my arms.
She offers a small smile, but it does nothing.
She told me this the other night, my brother confirmed it in his words earlier, but I didn’t allow her to explain, refused to hear what she was trying to tell me, blocked her out when she was being vulnerable and sharing her best-kept secret in a room full of assholes.
I was too busy trying to run her off, like a dumbass who convinced himself that what we had wasn’t far too strong for such a fucking move.
It is.
So much stronger.
Standing here, I’ve never been so desperate or terrified to understand something before. I need to know every little thing, so I wait for her to give me more.
Her fingertips find my chest. “Slide your hand into my hair, where I do, and tell me what you feel.”
I gently spin her, placing her on the front hood in front of me, but she keeps her legs locked tight around my torso.
My grip flexes against her, but my need to know why she asked has me doing exactly what she wanted.
My fingers, though, they find the spot I marked her with first, and she tries not to flinch but fails and my heart jolts with her.
“Baby—”
“Glide your hand back farther.” She nods her encouragement.
I do, my body trembling with more than I can name when the pads of my fingers skate across slightly raised skin. I move her hair aside, and she tips her head, granting me a better look at the scar.
It’s at a slight angle and spans maybe three inches. It’s not very wide, and isn’t raised all that much, but it’s there.
“Tell me what happened,” I murmur.
“My dad tried to kill me, and I tried to let him,” she admits.
My eyes slide to hers and my body slumps into hers.
“If Bass hadn’t gotten home when he did, he would have. My brother jumped in front of me. The bullet shot across the side of my head and wedged into the muscle of his shoulder. He fell back, and my dad came forward. He hit me with the barrel, three times is all I remember, but I was told it was five.”
I clench my teeth, flexing my jaw as I stare at the most perfect fucking thing I’ve ever seen, touched. Been in the fucking presence of.
Hurt by a man she should have been able to trust.
By a man who was supposed to love her.
And by me, a man who does.
Fuck.
“He cracked my skull. I was in the hospital for a few weeks, couldn’t see at all for the first nine days,” she admits. “I have optic nerve damage and it will never go away. It causes blind spells. We learned that when my anxiety is high, or I get worried or scared or emotionally overloaded, it happens. My blood pumps too quickly, inflaming the eye, and I lose clarity... or sight completely.”
“Back at your aunt’s, when I found you sleeping outside, you freaked when you woke up...” I remember.
She nods, her eyes softening. “When I opened my eyes, all I saw was darkness, and I thought my sight was gone. I didn’t realize I fell asleep out there.” She grips my cheeks.
All the heavy blinking, the red, swollenness...
“Royce, at the school, I saw you losing control and started to panic. Your brothers tried to keep me away, they knew what might happen, but I didn’t listen. All I saw was you losing yourself. I got free and was going to try to stop you before things got worse.” She pauses, deep creasing framing her face. “I lost sight and tripped. Baby, you didn’t swing and hit me,” she whispers. “I fell forward and right when you flung your hand back. I fell into it.”
My breath comes out in a hard, panted, huff.
“You were crazed and angry, all you understood was your hand whipped around and you saw me slam to the floor, but it wasn’t your fault. I fell.” Tears fill her eyes and I want to wipe them away.
I never want them clouded from me, changed or—
Okay, I’m a selfish prick.
I want her eyes to fall on me, smile at me, glare at me, even if that means absolutely nothing and no one else. If there’s only one person in the world she can see, I need it to be me.
I swallow, dropping my head to hers, and she pulls in a full breath.
“I went to my place today, the place I took you, by the water,” I tell her. “There were people there.”
Her lips pull in and she waits.
“I lied to you,” I rasp. “I know we’re past that day, but I need you to know it was special to me, but I freaked out, panicked like a bitch when I realized I gave you a piece of me I’d never given anyone, that I let you in without consent. So, I invited people there to try to bury it, to downplay what you do to me, and now it’s ruined.”
My eyes open, locking with hers, and I case her face in with my palms. “That’s what I do to special things, I ruin them.”
Broken and pained, she whispers, “Royce—”
“Don’t let me ruin you. I’m not good.”
Her gaze is troubled but clear and sure.
“I’m not and you know it.” I trace over her cheekbone and my body warms.
A long quiet pause stretches between us, and my knuckle finds its way beneath her jaw, bringing those eyes back to me, where they belong.
I tip my head, gliding my thumb along her bottom lip.
She sighs, leaning into my touch with a long, gentle blink, and my muscles tighten with emotions I can’t begin to name but ain’t mad at. Not right now.
I want to feel all she can do to me. I need to.
She pushes closer and my pulse climbs. “I told you the day I met you, Playboy.” Her voice is a low murmur, her chin lifted and lips as close as she can fuckin’ get ‘em. “I’m so sick of good and I don’t want calm. I want a hurricane. I need a nightmare and someone to hold my hand through the darkness that follows. I want raw realness and a catastrophic mess because that’s real life. I need something real and honest, hard-living and so true it hurts to think about. I want the pain that comes with something so deep that I bleed when you’re the one who’s cut.”
“Baby.” I don’t even recognize my voice. It’s deeper than normal, wounded, fucking petrified and ready. Needy. It has her chest inflating, her shoulders squaring and my baby girl, she pushes closer.
“You were right before and you know it.” She stares at me, into my soul, and whispers, “It’s not the prince I’d go for.”
Fuck me, if those aren’t the magic words. Words I needed but didn’t, ‘cause like she said, I was right, and I knew it when I said it to her.
She repeats the words I spoke to her once with a shaky but sure little laugh. “You’re far from decent and a total dick.”
I hold her as close as possible, an uncontrollable eagerness firing off my every nerve and soaking up any alcohol left inside me. I’m stone-cold fucking sober and staring into the soul that’s bound itself to mine.
“Trust me, Tink. I know.”
She brings her mouth closer to mine, right against my lips. “Make it up to me,” she breathes.
I take her lips as mine.
Because they are.
And so is she.
All fucking mine.
After a moment, she pulls back with a smirk. “Do you get it now?”
“Get what, baby?”
“You can’t push me away. I’m inside you and you know it.” Her voice lowers and with it, my throat bobs. “You couldn’t claw me out if you tried.”
“I will ne
ver try again.”
I know nothing is ever so clean and clear, that there’s no such thing as good without a bit bad, no love without heartache, and I’m aware love only grows off the roots of pain, but that doesn’t have to mean it’s fucked.
Loneliness is what brought Brielle here, pain is what drew her to me, and longing is what bonded us together.
Need recognizes need.
Her and I, we need each other.
But the universe decides we’re not in the clear yet, that there’s another mountain to climb, a massive wave to ride out before we can breathe, and it comes in the form of the roaring engine of a 1969 Mustang Fastback.
I grab her hand and tug her to the porch, an apology in my eyes.
That’s when she hears it and hers narrow.
“Is that...”
“Boys will be boys, baby girl.”
“Royce.”
“Stay back.”
“Is this necessary?”
“It’s inevitable.”
Her glare is sharp and flying over my shoulder, and then my dad comes out of nowhere, wraps her up, and carries her inside.
With a deep breath, I nod my head and spin around, right as the old muscle car whips into view, screeching to a stop not five inches from my shins.
Here we go.
Bass is out of the car and in my face in four seconds flat and tossing a stack of papers in my face. “You got a message for me, Brayshaw? I’m here. Serve it up.”
I ignore his bullshit, hold my arms out, and the motherfucker doesn’t hesitate like every other person in this place does.
Nah, he takes his shot, catching me clear across the jaw.
I welcome it, knowing damn well I deserve it, but he’s far from innocent, too, so he’ll get his just the same.
I spit, lick my lips, and grin at the punk.
Jet black hair and jacket to match, he stands fucking tall. Bold.
“Bass fucking Bishop.” I creep closer and his fists clench tighter at his sides. “Welcome back, motherfucker.”
My right hook flies forward, sending him against the hood of his pretty-ass ride behind him, but not before his foot kicks out, knocking me on my ass at the same time.
I roll to my feet as he does, sliding in to connect with his gut as he catches me in the ribs. Both of us cough, but neither slows down.
Break Me Page 35
