Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #4)(71)

Victoria giggles. “I do and guess what?” she lowers her voice as if she has a secret and like a child eager to learn, I find myself leaning closer. “I have some jammies kind of like those.”

Zoey gasps. “You do?!”

She nods with a small smile. “Wanna see?” she mimics Zoey’s question.

Zoey laughs, rubbing her hands together in excitement and I can’t help the chuckles that escape.

Victoria’s eyes slide to mine as she climbs from her bed and pulls a pair of cotton pants from her drawer, somewhat similar to the ones Zoey has on.

She shows them to her and Zoey laughs, counting the little rainbows as she falls back on Victoria’s pillows.

Pressure fills my chest, but for the first time, there is no added worry behind it.

Vee’s eyes find mine. “Everything okay?”

I nod, leaning against the frame and her focus falls to my bare chest, but quickly comes right back.

She drops onto her mattress, her hands anxiously gliding along her thighs as she studies me.

An ache forms in the pit of my stomach as I watch her and the curious look that takes over her face as she tracks the pensive expression on mine.

I can’t deny what I’ve been trying to say when the clarity of the matter burns so bright, and she sees it.

“Cap...”

“She wanted to say goodnight,” I tell her, “But I don’t think I’m ready for bed yet.”

She waits.

I walk inside, lift Zoey from the mattress and move back into the hall, pausing to turn to her.

With slow steps, she meets me where I stand, follows me into the media room, and when I drop onto the couch with Zoey on my lap, she lowers to my side.

We sit and watch CoCo for the fifteenth time, Zoey playing with Victoria’s hair, my arms wrapped tight around them both.





Chapter 22





Captain



Zoey stands beside me, Easter basket dangling from both hands as she stomps her feet excitedly, not so patiently waiting as my dad takes off his suit jacket, giving her something to sit on the grass with.

He lays it out beside the only two picnic tables we could find that weren’t crammed with a dozen others here at the festival.

As quickly as he’s stepping back, she’s falling to her knees and pouring everything from her basket. She stares at all the sealed plastic eggs with a bright smile.

“Is there candy in them?” she asks.

“I don’t know, open and see.”

“Maybe there’re stickers!”

I grin. “Maybe.”

She gasps, looking to me. “Maybe there’s a frog!”

I start laughing, the others following suit.

A frog?

“I don’t know, Zo.” I chuckle. “But we’re about to find out.”

One by one she starts to open them, finding something new each time.

We may have gone a little overboard, but being her first holiday at home, me and my brothers wanted it to be special, so we stayed up half the night decorating the house and hiding eggs from the mansion to the orchard.

We got the biggest, fluffiest bunny we could find, setting it in the center of the room, but when it came to her basket, the big overflowing one we brought home and the mountain of toys to go with, it didn’t feel right, so we tossed it in the back of Royce’s SUV. He drove the stuff over to Mac to make sure someone who might need it would get it in time, while me and Maddoc called Maybell in a panic. She laughed and asked us to come down to the Bray house.

When we got there, she was on the porch, bag in hand.

She knew we’d need a little help in the end, and what she had waiting was perfect for Zoey.

A strong, white wicker basket, one she could hold in her hand that wouldn’t drag along the floor as she carried it around, the perfect little fit for her.

It has a purple ribbon that weaves in and out of the edge, and small pink flowers strategically sewn along it. With white grass, a small pink bunny, a chocolate duck, and four tie-dye plastic eggs, it was perfect, as was the look on her face when she found it this morning.

We never even told her about the eggs we hid outside, she was too happy with the few she got, but after seeing her face hunting eggs out here, I might.

“Place hasn’t changed at all, has it?” Royce looks around.

I glance from the food carts to the bounce houses and game stations. There are booths lining the area, vendors selling homemade signs and jewelry, and other random items you might not find every day.

Every year, as kids, Maybell would bring us here for Easter.

It’s two hours outside of town and held on someone’s farmland, but there are still a shit load of attendees, while remaining a place free of Brayshaw townspeople. Since I haven’t shared I have a daughter, it’s what we need.

“I’m going to grab a soda or something,” Victoria says as she stands and heads toward the food carts.

“Wait up, I’m starvin’, too.” Royce hops up.

That gains Zoey’s attention, but she doesn’t even have to ask. Royce picks her up and off they go.

My dad makes his way around the front of the tables then and drops down beside me.

“How you doin’, son?” he asks, beginning to roll up the cuffs to his button-up.

I nod, dragging my eyes from my brother and focusing on my dad. “I’m good.”