Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw, #2)(33)

The officer steps out, his face drawn up in uncertainty as he steps toward Maddoc. It’s not a cop I’ve seen around here, but he seems well aware of who he’s here to arrest, fear clearly etched across his face.

But Maddoc gives a curt nod and the man relaxes, signals for him to turn around then places cuffs across his wrists.

His eyes meet mine over the hood and hold, then shift to his brothers’ before he’s placed in the back seat.

Maybell climbs in front.

“What do we do?” I whisper as the taillights disappear.

“We wait.”

“For?”

“Dad.”





It’s been three days since we’ve seen or heard from Maddoc. Three days since we’ve seen or heard from anyone, actually, since we stayed locked inside waiting for contact that never came. Today, though, we had to be at school because of the game. The team would already be short Maddoc, and the guys refused to leave them hanging.

All fucking day these nosey assholes asked questions they had no right to the answers to – where the boys had been and where Maddoc was, but they never responded.

Royce had called Mac the day Maddoc was arrested and told him to drop word that the boys were out on business. Nobody ever questions their whereabouts, but with all the flip flop happening around here, these Brayshaw students couldn’t hide their drooling tongues and wagging tales if they tried.

The boys handled their admirers better than I did the gossipy girls. I could only handle a few of the curious glances before I got pissed off and threatened to give anyone else who started matching black eyes they could look at in the mirror all day if they wanted.

I get the curiosity. I mean, fuck, Maddoc tore off my top at the assembly, then grabbed me up. I’m sure to outside eyes it looked like a fucked-up situation, even more so with everything that followed and now here we are, back minus the leader. But fuck them, I don’t give a shit about their petty rumors and neither do the guys. I just don’t like to be stared at.

A whistle sounds again, bringing me back to the now, and the crowd starts shouting.

The boys rally well, Mac and Leo helping lead the team as starters today alongside Royce and Captain – there’s still been no sign of Collins.

Captain’s footwork is off, but his shots are on point, so he passes off and the team rushes the ball down the court. Royce passes it back to Cap who shoots for a quick point earned.

The opposing team gets the ball and charges forward, but Leo manages to block a pass, the ball ricocheting off his hand and straight for Mac’s, who throws for a half-court shot, but it hits the rim and bounces off. Luckily Royce is near and hops up for the rebound, shooting midair and making it.

The score is back and forth all game, they miss and allow more points than normal, but in the end, they’re able to pull off the win.

The team quickly retreats to the locker room, but Royce and Captain don’t follow.

I rush to meet them on the court and together the three of us waste no time, acknowledge no one, and head for Captain’s SUV.

Royce throws himself back against the seat and takes a deep breath. “Maddoc would be pissed at how we played.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Captain tells him. “He’ll be proud we played period.”

The boys talk a little about the game on the drive home, and when we park and climb out, Maybell steps from the house.

Tension lines her brows, but she tries to mask it and my stomach muscles tighten.

We all rush closer, desperate for her news.

“Your dad called,” she tells them. “Maddoc finally gets to see a judge tomorrow. He says he should be granted bail, no problems.”

The boys’ shoulders visibly drop, and both look to the sky a moment, but not me. The tension in my stomach spreads through my ribs and wraps around my shoulder blades until there’s a slight ache there.

Maybell, she isn’t relieved. She should be, hearing one of her chosen sons is coming home. She won’t hold their eyes long and she hasn’t looked my way yet.

“He wants to make sure you’re there,” she adds and they both nod instantly.

“Why didn’t he call us, too?” Royce asks her and she gives a small smile, but it doesn’t meet her eyes.

She reaches up and touches both their cheeks. “He knew you’d be there, playin’ the best you could with all this goin’ on here.”

“So tomorrow?” Royce confirms again.

“Tomorrow. Doors open at eight.” She pats them lightly and moves toward me.

She takes a deep breath, her eyes finally meeting mine. She nods glumly. “I told you, child. I told you, you belong here. I need you to start believing it, you understand?” Her eyes grow glossy, but she doesn’t let her tears fully form. “It’s hurting my boys when you don’t.”

I nod, but I’m unable to wipe the frown that’s been in place since she started talking.

She starts down the road and turns back to the boys, but they’re already moving inside, so I follow.

“I’m fucking beat, bro.” Royce pulls off his hoodie and tosses it on the couch.

“Me too, man.” Cap moves into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge. “Sandwiches and chips cool for dinner tonight?”

“Sounds fucking good to me.” Royce plops down and flips on the TV.