Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw, #2)(46)

“Look, this is all new for me, okay?” I snap right back. “You seem to love to forget that I didn’t have this” – I play connect four between us – “where I came from. It was me, and that’s it. I’m not gonna all of a fucking sudden be ‘go team’ because that’s what makes sense to you.”

“It’s not all of a sudden,” he bites out.

A laugh bubbles out of me even though I try to fight it, and some tension leaves his shoulders. I’d swear there was a soft side of him hidden in there somewhere, covered in anger and buried with bitterness.

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t know how to ...” Shit.

Captain leans forward, his little whiskey bottle hanging in his hands. “How to be a part of a team?” he asks and I’m glad we’re on a dark balcony with nothing but the fire between us for light.

My neck heats, in doubt or awkwardness, I don’t want to know, but it’s annoying.

“You don’t know how to be a part of a team?” he tries again.

“No. I don’t.”

“Raven ... you stood with us when you had no reason to, fought with us, defended us.”

“But I didn’t do any of it on purpose,” I whisper, a heavy weight on my chest making it hard to bring in a full breath. “I just did what I felt like doing.”

“Stop trying to convince yourself that’s true. Quit telling yourself that deep-down you didn’t feel connected to us right away, because you did. You passed on the chance at a new life when Perkins hit you with that offer, something even we know you want, to stay with us. Then you went there, willing to give it all up to protect us, meaning you’d walk away with nothing.” Captain glances at his brothers before continuing.

“You fire off on reflex, which is a really good thing most of the time, it means you’re quick to the wit and can turn a bad situation into a favorable one when needed. Knowing that about you makes us more comfortable when you’re not in our sights. But Raven, do not ever think you need to protect us from anything.”

I hear what he’s saying, and it makes sense, but that’s not the point. I may not have thought it through completely, but I knew what was at risk and it far outweighed where I landed in the end.

I lean forward, hoping the urgency I felt is delivered. “How could I walk away that night, knowing what could have maybe happened if I didn’t try to stop it?”

His brows pinch and then smooth out in the same second. He slowly stands, making his way over to me and my stomach starts to flip.

He drops down in front of me, and in the corner of my eye, I catch Big Man looking away.

“Raven ...” He trails off, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you telling me, you did what you did, made a fucking deal with Collins, for my daughter? For my baby girl who you’ve never even met and owe nothing to?” He swallows, the corners of his eyes squeezing, like the damn strings to the heart I’m only just discovering.

“I ...” I drop my eyes to my lap. This shit’s too much for me. “She’s not the only reason.”

Royce’s light chuckle catches my attention.

I look to him and he offers a small smile.

“This is why you fit, RaeRae.” My damn shoulders shouldn’t ease at the nickname. “You’re honest when most would lie, you’re strong when others are weak. You’re loyal without having to try, even if it was a fucked-up way to show it.” He winks.

I grin and look back to Captain as he stands. He looks down at me, nods his head and disappears into the suite.

Royce stands and pats my shoulders, following after his brother, and I close my eyes a minute, taking in a few deep breaths.

“Come here,” I demand of Maddoc.

When I hear no movement, I open my eyes and look at him.

He lifts his chin, so I lift a brow. With a small smirk, he pushes to his feet, and slowly steps to me. Once he’s towering over my seated form, I stare up at him.

Green eyes, shining in the dark, and swimming with too many thoughts to count.

I grip the bottom of his hoodie and pull, so he bends, placing his hands on the back of the little sofa style patio seat I’m sitting on.

My chest stirs, a tightness I’m not familiar with taking over, and a heavy exhale leaves me.

His slow blink has me swallowing.

“Sit.”

“I was sitting.”

“I didn’t ask what you were doing. I said sit.” I slide my hands under his top and press along his damn tapered waist. “Sit.”

He fights me for a second, frowning down at me, but then does as I asked right as the boys step back out with new, larger drinks.

I glance at Maddoc, but he only stares, waiting for me to fill his brothers in on what I told him on the train.

I reach in the waist of my jeans and pull my knife out. I look to Royce and hold it up. His brows pull in and he nods his chin, so I toss it to him.

His eyes are slow to pull from me and move to the metal in his hands.

“Turn it over, Royce.”

He flips it over and when he does, he freezes a moment, drawing it closer to his face. He sees it, etched into the side in a classic cursive script: Family runs deeper than blood.

What I now know are the Brayshaw’s words to live and breathe by.

Royce slowly pushes right back to his feet.