Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(95)

With a small smile, she hands me my nephew.

He’s smaller than a football, perfect in every fucking way.

I take the seat opposite of Maddoc and cradle him in my arms like Maybell showed me, making sure his head is tucked perfectly into the crook of my elbow.

I run a hand over his full head of dark hair, as black as a raven, just like his mama. He starts to stir, a small cry slipping from his lips and I freeze.

The others laugh but Raven quickly passes me a weird-ass circle pacifier, nothing like the ones they brought home when they went and bought a truckload of shit.

She holds it up to his mouth, but I take over, and the little guy settles.

His dark lashes flutter and my chest warms. His eyes are near the same shade of green as Maddoc’s, maybe a little lighter. He’s the perfect mix of them both.

“Hey, little bro,” I whisper. “You got milk drunk last night and didn’t get a good look at me. I’m your favorite uncle.”

Light laughs fill the room, but I ignore them. This is me and little man’s time.

“Your pops is gonna try to teach you to dunk, but when he’s not looking, come to me. He’s got the perfect shot, but the dunk is all me, my man.”

He makes a little sound and my smile widens.

“Yeah, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” I grab his hand, feeling his tiny fingers, and they close around me. “Me and Zoey Bear, we’re gonna show you all sorts of stuff, ain’t that right, Zo?” I look over, having sensed her eyes on the two of us and a wide smile takes over her lips.

I jerk my head and she runs to us, so I lift her onto my knee.

“He’s so cute.” Zoey smiles at him, waving her hand, but his eyes are already closing.

She leans in and kisses his forehead. “I love you, bestest friend.” She lays her head on my shoulder and yawns, her nap time officially closing in. “Your turn, Uncle Bro.”

I lean down, kissing his right temple. “I love you, Phoenix Brayshaw.”





Brielle





Of all the mornings for my brother to call, he chose this one.

It was just after seven-thirty, when I’d normally be on my bus ride to school, but this morning, at seven-thirty, I wasn’t on a bus or in a town I was forced into. I wasn’t with a family who didn’t really want me there or at a school where kids weren’t sure what to think about the sad little weird girl who came in with a bald spot and puffy eyes.

This morning, I was wrapped in a cocoon of tattooed arms, barricaded by long and lean muscles, and held on to with a comfort I wasn’t sure existed.

I haven’t heard back from my brother, which was almost scary, but knowing he wasn’t here made it a little easier. I figure he hasn’t answered because every time he does, he’s forced to lie, or more, hide the truth.

I’ve been waiting for his call for so many reasons... and I ignored it.

I was already awake, breathing in the early morning air and letting my eyes roam the parts of the property I could see from where we were. My phone vibrated beside me, and I ignored it.

I would almost go as far as to say I was angry his call came when it did, interrupting my morning, but I had to get up, get back to the house to get ready anyway. I figured the Brays wouldn’t be at school today and I was right. I even saw Mac and Chloe leaving at lunch and figured they were headed to meet the newest member of the Brayshaw family.

When the school bell rings, I’m ready for it, and pull my phone out to call my brother back.

Surprise, surprise, he answers on the first ring. “I was five seconds from hopping on a plane.”

I find it hard to laugh when normally I would. “Maybe I should ignore your calls more often, like you’ve been ignoring mine.”

He’s quiet, a sigh woven in his words. “That’s not fair, B. You know I’d be with you if I could.”

I nod, squeezing my eyes shut and tell myself he’s being honest when it’s getting harder to believe.

I shouldn’t ask what follows, but I can’t stop myself.

“Those Brays keeping you busy, big brother?”

He clears his throat, a rasped and hesitant “Yeah, B, they are” following.

When my eyes cloud over, I pretend the lie didn’t fall so easily.

“I called you seven hours ago,” he says next. “You didn’t text back. Why not?”

“Sorry, I was busy, and then, you know, school.” I pull a petal off one of the giant rose bushes framing the side of the school and rub it between my fingers.

“Busy at seven in the morning?” His tone is full of suspicion.

The added noise on the line lets me know he’s no longer alone and our two minutes of sibling time is about to end, so before he can cut me off, tell me he has to go do... whatever the hell it is he’s doing wherever the hell he’s at, I beat him to the punch.

“I have to go, Bass.” I let the red petal fall to the ground. “Maybe we’ll talk soon.”

“Brielle?”

I drop my head, my chest aching.

I understand the worry in his tone, the sadness. I feel it too, the disconnect.

I’ve never allowed myself to be upset with my brother.

He’s my best friend. My only family. My only friend.

Or he was.