Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #4)(77)

“Does he?”

Restless thoughts spin in my head as for the millionth time I try to weigh the events of the last few weeks.

Is he with me when he’s in my bed?

Raven glares, but it’s not for me, and then the front door opens and closes, and Captain barrels down the steps.

“Pacman,” she calls.

He skids to a stop, whipping around with his phone in his hand.

His eyes fly between us.

“I’ll be back,” he says, quickly looking away. “Zoey’s in the media room with Dad and Royce.”

“Where are you going?” Raven asks.

“To grab somethin’.”

Only when his taillights disappear does she turn to me with a scowl. “Why do I get the feeling he just lied to me?”

“I think he did.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re right here.”

A laugh bubbles from me and she joins in, dropping her head back on the seat.

“Yeah, Raven.” I sigh. “Maybe.”

It doesn’t take long for Maddoc to come for his girl, so I follow them inside and up the stairs.

The two continue down the long hallway, following Royce and Zoey’s laughter into the media room while I disappear into mine.

I must have fallen asleep, because I’m woken hours later when Captain comes inside my room.

He kneels at the side of my bed.

“You awake?” he whispers.

“I am.”

“Go on a drive with me.”

My brows pull in, but I nod, climb from my bed, slip my shoes on and walk over to where he now waits for me.

He holds my eyes a long moment, and then takes the hoodie from around his arm, pulling it over my head. It swallows me whole, of course, but I don’t care.

Captain inhales, long and deep, his hands coming up and pushing the hood down, his fingers slipping around my neck to free my hair from beneath the expensive cotton. He leans in, skimming his lips along my cheek, kissing where my jawbone meets my neck.

My eyes close, my palms lifting to his chest and his join.

He holds my hands a long moment before dropping one and tugging me along until we’re out the front door and he has the passenger one open for me to climb inside.

We drive in comfortable silence for hours, going nowhere, simply around the town and up and down the country roads on the outside of it, his hand latched tight with mine the entire way.

Only when the moon is ready to rest does he pull down the long dirt road to the mansion.

Inside the house, he pauses in the hall near his door.

Once again, he pulls me to him, his eyes a deeper blue, the green a thin hidden ring around them, and he leans in, kissing the same spot as earlier before he lets me go, stepping into the bathroom.

I stand there, listening as the shower is turned on, the soft vibration of the glass door opening and closing.

Before I can stop myself, I’m in his bedroom, standing right in front of his nightstand.

My fingers graze along the brass handle of the drawer, readying to open it and pull out the journal I know sits inside, but then his phone vibrates right on top, the screen lighting the still dark room with a message not meant for me to see, from a name I wish I didn’t.

My Mallory: when?

No.

My stomach bottoms out, dread digging deep within my chest and knocking me back.

I fall onto his mattress as the inevitable coils in my gut, stripping me of what I thought was our start.

But here he was, reaching for a completely new one.





I push my feet into my shoes, bending to pull the back up over my heel when Raven comes around the corner fanning herself. “Where are you going?”

“To get some air,” I tell her as I walk out, shutting the door behind me and start down the dirt road toward the Bray houses.

The girls are scattered around, coming in and out, as are the boys from their house, all getting their daily required chores completed.

“Need a hand?”

Nira, turns around, and shrugs, getting back to pulling the weeds. I drop to my knees beside her, digging right into the dirt, and damn if the feel of the cooled soil doesn’t calm me.

Nira laughs. “You want some gloves?”

She holds out a box, but I shake my head.

“I’m good.”

“Right,” she scoffs. “If you were good, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday morning on your knees in the dirt at the group home you used to live in when you now live with a bunch of rich kids in a fancy-ass mansion.”

“Meh.” I shrug. “It’s not that fancy.”

When I look up, we both laugh.

“For real, though. If you don’t want people to think you’re miserable, maybe don’t look like you are.” Her eyes lift to the messy ball on my head held back by a green bandana. “And try brushing your hair.”

I fight a grin. “Shut up or you can do this by yourself.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No, but I have a joint we can smoke once your chores are done.”

She looks up. “Okay, you get the right side; I’ll get the left.”

I smirk. “Deal.”

We’re done quick, and hiding out on the opposite side of the house, smoking.

“So I ran into Mike,” she says casually as she takes a hit, missing the way my muscles lock.