Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(76)

Or that’s what I convinced myself.

Anger swims in my stomach, stiffening my muscles as pressure builds behind my eyes.

My dad told me if I wanted it to stop, I’d tell my brother to stay home.

I lied to my dad and said I begged Bass to, often, but he wouldn’t listen, all so my dad would think Bass didn’t care as much as our dad thought he did.

If I really had asked, Bass would have stayed without hesitation, sold the car and stashed the cash so the desire to hop behind the wheel was never there. My dad would have then used the knowledge to hurt us in a different way.

Bass by going after me, me by going after him.

My hands begin to sweat.

I’m so sorry, brother. It’s time for you to live your life without having to worry about mine.

I lift the bat over my head, bringing it down with all my might, and the windshield shatters the rest of the way, breaking off and falling into the front seats of the car.

I lift it again, taking it to the back ones. I swing and swing, from right to left, left to right, until, finally, they too bust through.

I growl and grunt, the bat between my shaky hands held high in the air when suddenly Royce is at my back. He uses his hips to push me forward until my body is pressed into the car.

His hands start at the curve of my elbow, warning me they’re coming, and slide up from there, not stopping until his fingers are spread wide along mine. He wraps his palms over my hands and pushes even closer.

I’ve got it is what I imagine he’d whisper if he felt the need to speak, but his body does it for him, strong and firm and unmoving.

I let go.

My arms fall like dead weight, but with his held up the way they are, the way mine were, mine can only drop backward, over our heads.

My elbows rest over his chest near his shoulders, my wrists lying perfectly at the curve of his neck, our height is so different.

When he doesn’t force them down, I make a risky move. I give him all my weight, hoping he’ll accept it and close my eyes as blackness takes over them.

He does with zero hesitation.

My heart pounds wildly in my chest, and I attempt to calm it, but each breath comes out choppier than the last, more ragged.

Royce’s arms drop back, his fingers finding and lacing over mine at the base of his neck. He folds them there.

I hold on to him, but really, it’s he who is holding on to me.

I turn my head to the left and tilt it up a bit so my cheek rests near the beat of his heart and focus on the tempo.

I breathe him in, blend into him, our heartbeats in sync.

“Slow and steady,” he rasps.

Deep and full.

His hands release mine, and when mine don’t fall, he wraps his long fingers around my wrist and tugs.

My eyes pop open and it takes several seconds for the fog to clear, and then they meet his.

He watches me a long moment, and at my back, his chest rises a little fuller, falls a little faster.

Suddenly his hands are on my hips and I’m spun around, his body pressing into mine as his features pull tighter and tighter, the muscles of my stomach doing the same.

His fingers twitch against my skin, pressing firmer and tugging some unexpected strings low in my abdomen.

This isn’t what it feels like, Brielle. Don’t fool yourself.

Don’t fall.

He slips closer, his right hand coming up, his knuckle glides up my breastbone, my neck, until it’s resting beneath my chin. He tips my head back, and his begins to lower.

His eyes are hard and focus on my mouth and I forget to breathe.

To blink.

To think.

My lips part.

A low groan leaves him.

All at once, the weight of his hands, the heat of his breath, and the pressure of his body is gone.

As if left starved, I drag in a desperate lungful of air, and his eyes cut away.

“Come on,” he says, a slight strain in his voice. “Let’s put this back.”

I nod, clearing my throat, and with slower steps, I follow behind him, stepping to the side as he leans into the back of the SUV.

“So.” I swallow, shifting us back into proper territory. “Do you keep a bat in all these cars?”

“Nah.” He shrugs a shoulder, and when he turns to me it’s with a straight face. “We keep three.”

I shake my head with a grin. “See, Three Musketeers... one for all. Not that that’s what it means, but it works.”

A light laugh leaves him, and with slower than normal movements, the two of us head out the way we entered. Thankfully, with each step taken, the heaviness of the last few minutes falls away.

When we step out front, there’s an empty SUV waiting.

Only when we’re pulling to a stop in front of the girls’ group home does he turn to me.

“You expected him to be here, that’s why you came without a fight.”

I nod.

He gauges me. “Now what?”

I drop my smile to my lap and push the door open, but he reaches over, yanking it closed.

When I turn, his face is right there. Right in mine.

“You stayin’ or not?” His tone is angry, but his eyes... they’re something else entirely.

My stomach dips.

He wants me to stay, I can sense it, but he doesn’t know how to say it.



“As if you’d give me the option,” I whisper with a hint of a smile.