Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(21)

Her body stiffens, her focus falling to the cold treat in front of her.

She grabs her spoon, lightly stirring the thick malt. “I didn’t say I couldn’t go inside.”

“You panicked when I went for the door handle.”

She opens her mouth, but closes it, her gaze sliding to mine and chock-full of unease.

“Tell me why.”

She keeps her mouth clamped shut, but then lifts a single shoulder, her eyes bouncing between mine. “Because what other choice do we have, Royce Brayshaw, other than to do what we must to survive?”

“You have to sleep outside to survive?”

“I have to avoid bad situations to survive, but I’ll save us both the back and forth and reiterate, no crime, remember? The people are jerks, but words are words.” She shrugs. “It’s perfectly safe to sleep pretty much anywhere here. No crime, remember?”

My eyes narrow, and I want to ask her what she meant with the first part of her statement but go with something simpler. “There’s crime everywhere.”

She thinks on it a second and says, “That’s fair, but it’s not the kind you’re used to.”

“How would you know, little Bishop?” I lean forward. “If big brother hides as much of our world as the fucker’s supposed to, as you led on he does, then how do you know what kind of shit I see?”

She plants one arm on the table, and the other on the back of the booth, meeting my few inches forward with a few of her own. “You’d be surprised what you can find on the internet.”

“So you stalk us?”

“Not you.” Her eyes cloud with longing, but she blinks it away. “My home.”

Confusion swims in my head as I study her.

“Tell me,” she says, her tone tired but not with a need for sleep. “Do you hide things from your brothers?”

My muscles jolt at the mention of my family. “No.”

“So they know you’re here?”

My lips press together and a small smile finds her, but it’s not a triumphant, bitchy one.

The girl almost comes off wretched.

“That’s what I thought, you’re the black sheep. You didn’t lie to them, but you do bend the rules until they make sense in your favor, sort of ride the line to the very edge, forever jumping before you have a chance to fall.” She lays her head on her fist as she stares up at me. “I’m kind of like that, too. The black sheep, for sure, but the rules... I don’t exactly bend them. I do what I’m supposed to for the most part, with school and at the house and whatnot, but—” She cuts herself off with a scowl and looks away. “You’ll think I’m lame.”

“I already do.”

A quick laugh leaves her, the corner of her lips lifting and almost cracking mine, but I don’t allow it, instead, I let myself sink into the seat more.

I keep this shit as simple as it is.

“Why do you care what I think?”

Her gaze holds a hint of reserve, but she decides to keep going. “I like to spin things in my own mind, to believe the choices made for me are made in my favor. That way it sucks a little less than the truth.”

Lies fuck up everything. She has to know this.

Right?

I sit up straighter. “If you’re lyin’ to yourself, who can you trust?”

She faces forward, turning to look into the darkness outside the window beside her. “No one.” She pulls in a heavy breath, slowly brings her eyes back to mine. “Not a soul.”

Something stirs beneath my ribs, but I’m not sure what to make of it.

No one.

She can trust no one.

Not even herself.

“People suck, but small towns suck even more,” she adds with a resigned smile. “All these people ever do is whisper about how lucky I am, and how I need to take advantage of the new opportunities I supposedly have here—work harder, do more, get involved.” She rolls her eyes. “But it’s such crap. They don’t really want that. They just want to feel better about themselves when they pass me on the street and look the other way.”

It will be better for her, I can hear Bass’ words loud and fucking clear.

But is it?

She sounds miserable, and worse, accepting of it.

“I’m not ungrateful, I appreciate having somewhere to go.” She decides to share more, and I’m locked in, waiting for her reasoning and irritated over my internal need to know. “And of course I want more out of life, but not here, and not the life people look at me and believe I should have. They see this young, misled girl with weird tics and quiet thoughts and bam, suddenly they all know exactly who I should be.” Her eyes hit mine. “Why should I have to be this saint others expect of me in order to have a future I can be proud of, happy with? What if I want to be different? And more than that, what if I’m supposed to be?”

Her last word leaves her in an unsure whisper.

The vein in my jaw begins to throb, forcing me to clench my teeth to stop it.

I lick my lips, my question a low rasp. “Different how?”

“Despite what I lived through, I’m not a cruel person,” she says, more to herself than me. “And I’m happy about that, but—”

But what?

Her head falls.