Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(60)

I look down, following the tattooed forearm up until my eyes collide with a pair of clouded brown ones. Royce hangs half out of the door, holding on to me.

He tugs, and for some reason, even though he was a giant jackass just now, I let him.

I climb in beside the drunken playboy, trying to ignore how his hold on me grows tighter, more possessive, with each passing second, and pretending his lips aren’t slightly brushing against the side of my neck.

They are, but every time they meet my skin fully, they disappear, taking the air from my lungs with them.

I don’t know what it means or that he’ll remember this tomorrow.

I don’t know why he said what he said, did what he did, or if it even matters.

And I don’t know why, when the night basically went to crap, thrill burns me to the core.

I know it’s reckless.

But I’m not sure I can control it.

I’m also not so sure I want to.





Chapter 17





Royce



“Daddy, look it!” Zo runs ahead of me, damn near tripping over herself while trying to carry a giant-ass panda bear that’s a solid foot bigger than she is.

Captain comes around the corner with a grin, his steps slowing when he spots her, the panda, the new stuffed penguin backpack she has on and the two black bears in my hands.

His eyes pop up to mine and he frowns, but when he drops to his knees in front of his baby girl it’s with a smile.

“Uncle Bro taked me to make stuff, see!” She smiles, shoving it in Cap’s arms and runs to me, snags the bears and runs back. She hops into Cap’s arms, knowing he’ll catch her, and pushes the ballerina and basketball player dressed black bears in his face.

I laugh, wiping at my mouth in an attempt to hide it, and Cap’s grin doesn’t fall until Zoey is running around the corner to go show Victoria.

He hops up and punches my shoulder.

I laugh. “Hey, Madman’s playin’ dirty. Had to show him up. I’m her favorite.”

He chuckles. “All right, but no more animals. Pretty soon we won’t be able to find her in her bed, she’ll be so covered.”

“Fine, fine.” I grin. “I’m gonna put this away.” I lift the small gift box at my side.

Cap’s grin widens and he slips closer. “What’s in there?”

The fucker knows it’s for the soon to be here baby Bray.

“Nuh, uh. That’s for me to know. I’m the special one.” I grin and he laughs.

I leave his ass there laughing.

The second I’ve got the box stuffed in my closet, my phone rings.

“What up, MacMoney?” I answer.

“Your girl’s in the pool.”

I freeze, squeezing my phone. “I don’t have a girl.”

“All right.” I hear his punk-ass smile. “Brielle hopped the fence, she’s in the pool.”

“At the school?”

“Yup. The sensors went off, that’s how I know.”

“How the fuck did she of all people manage to make her way up that fence, it’s three times the size of her.”

Mac laughs. “Right. You want me to go get her out?”

I’m already down the stairs and out the front door. “I got this.”

“Yeah... figured you did.”

“Fuck off. But, aye, keep your phone on you in case I need backup.”

“Oh, for sure man, five-foot silver-haired girls can be dangerous.” He laughs. “Make sure you turn off the cameras if the need presents itself.”

I groan and hang up.

He jokes, but for real though... she might be.

For me.

I went off half-cocked last night.

I text Captain to let him know I left so Zoey doesn’t go looking for me and let Maddoc know I’ll be missing the first part of the movie he wanted to watch tonight.

I’m turning into the school lot minutes later. I could easily pull up on the property, drive around to the back and avoid a walk, get there sooner.

I think I’ll sneak up on her instead.





Brielle





I push off the siding, gliding from one end to the other before coming up for a breath. I walk out as deep as I can reach, dropping my head back.

I smile at the stars, zoning in on the Little Dipper, but I don’t short myself the rest of the night sky.

The stars, they’re bright and shining, lighting up the dark sky and giving hope to those of us reaching for more, searching for a sign it’s out there.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, choking on it a second later when my peacefulness is interrupted.

“Fuck you doing?”

I gasp and whip around, searching the night for the one and only Royce Brayshaw.

He slips through the gate, sliding up in a pair of black jeans and a sleeveless gray T-shirt, tattoos proudly displayed, not that he thinks about that.

His art of choice isn’t for the sake of others, but himself.

One day he’ll be decked out, looking the part of a polo player and the next, be center stage at a sold-out hip-hop concert. He could even hop on a Harley and fit into the roughest of biker clubs. He’s universal perfection.

He tips his head and I remember he asked a question.