Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #4)(8)

And then there’s Captain.

As if built from the deepest desires of my own mind, ones I didn’t know existed until I laid my brown eyes on his Caribbean ones, a perfect mix of green and blue and ever-shifting. Tall and broad, wide shoulders and sculpted arms, his strength needs no added flare. Combine those things with his sandy blond hair, and he’s a perfect Ken Doll.

If his body wasn’t enough, his person radiates a deeper pull, one I tried to run from the moment it was felt but couldn’t escape.

He’s inquisitive, like me. Sees with his mind, processes with reason, and commands without further force. But as much as he’s all these things, he’s just as threatening and untouchable as his brothers. His ability to think before acting makes him the most dangerous, at least for me.

Maybell has been with them since the beginning, helped guide them along the way, watched as they grew into who they are now, strong and unpredictable.

Brayshaw.

They may have a few months left as high school boys, but they’ve never been summed up so simply.

They’re much, much more.

Boys of power they both inherited and earned, showered with respect for the good they do for their people, and feared for the bad they eliminate.

They’ve brightened nightmares.

And they’ve just taken official reign on this town. Their town.

My lungs expand with a deep breath as I drop my head against the plush patio pillows behind me.

I couldn’t sleep for shit, have been staring out at these monstrous trees surrounding the property for hours now, thinking, but it’s been a complete waste of my time. I haven’t come up with a single way to keep things smooth and simple that won’t bring a whole new set of issues with it.

If it was the four of them, and no one else, it wouldn’t be a problem. They’d push and I’d take it in stride while working toward fixing what I—sort of accidentally—broke.

It’s intimidating, sure, knowing it’s not one person I have to prove myself to, but four, but I knew this from the get-go. There is no other option, no one or the other.

The Brayshaws are a package deal, and I’m the current stray.

Those simple facts I could handle with ease, but Zoey being home changes everything.

There is no way I would even consider forcing myself on them when she’s around. Not only would it be fucked up, but they’d never allow it, and they shouldn’t. I understand that fully, so I’ll need to find another way, or use the time we’ll have once we go back to school to show them I belong, that this isn’t some power kick of a random girl wanting into the family that leads this town.

It’s fated, I can feel it in my bones.

I’m not sure if they realize it or not, but the next few months are going to be tough in some ways.

I have no doubt Zoey found instant comfort here with her family, in the home she was always meant to be in, but there will still be some sort of adjustment or learning period for all of them. Especially since they function as a unit. Not only is Captain going to be faced with new trials as a dad, but the others will as well. They’ll grow in ways most eighteen-year-olds don’t, and quickly. Not that they’ve ever really been teenagers.

It’s part of the Brayshaw way, to grow into manhood young, marry right out of high school, and produce an heir just as quick.

Maybe because of this they have an upper hand here as running this town has prepared them to be strong men all their lives, but it’s hard to say for sure.

All I do know is while Zoey’s shy of three-years-old and definitely won’t comprehend every little thing, she’s smart as a whip and picks up on things fast. It won’t take long for her to realize her new home is mine as well, and she’ll seek out my attention.

What am I supposed to do when she does, walk away?

Yeah, right.

I’m the person she saw the most, outside of Maria.

Maria.

I haven’t spoken to her since before Zoey came home. Not that she and I talked about anything other than Zoey, but she did care for the youngest Brayshaw for years, and now it’s only her and acres of land.

I pull out the cell phone Raven had sent to me when she was gone and scroll to Maria’s name, hitting send, but after a few short rings, the line goes to voicemail.

I don’t leave one.

She may have given birth to me, but I never had a mother, or love and affection, for that matter, as I now know a child should.

Back then, though, I knew no different.

You don’t miss what you never had, and I had nothing.

At least, not until my tenth birthday when a man showed up at the door with news, or at least it was news to me.

I had a sister—Raven.

The man who came to share the information was Mero Malcari, the biological brother to Rolland, the boys’ dad, who was believed to have died the night the Brayshaw family was attacked eighteen years ago, the night Rolland chose to save his friends over his own blood.

Mero was a sick man, and the day he dared to roll up to the Graven estate, the home of his family’s enemy, he strode in with a smirk, head held high and all, prepared to barter.

I’ll never forget it.

The bushes shake and I pause, tilting my head all the way back to look up at the tip of the wall.

The deep green leaves cover the heavy stone, the strands braided over the top to hide the thick, spiked metal wire beneath it, but they don’t rustle.