Break Me (Brayshaw, #5)

by Meagan Brandy

“VicVee,” I call to her, brushing my finger along my lip. “Got a little dried cum there,” I tease. “Fuck off.” She laughs, swiping at it. “Zoey insisted on feeding me a bite of her pasta.”

“RaeRae, where’d you go? Where’s Maddoc?” “I’m here!” She comes back on the screen, dropping beside Captain. “Maddoc’s grabbing a soda from the pool house ‘cause your dad has the good shit in there.” “You mean Maddoc replaced everything with caffeine-free shit again hoping you’d go for it?” “Exactly.” She laughs. I grin. “Lemme see my baby.” “Stop saying your baby, dick!” Maddoc shouts in the distance.

“How the fuck’s there a person in there, RaeRae?” I stare at her belly.

A couple weeks ago I got a surprise in the form of an envelope, and inside it was the official sex of Maddoc and Raven’s baby. The sex that they themselves don’t even know. It was a gift she gave me, that they gave me, one I could never repay or match. I know it’s because she wanted me to have something to hold on to, and it was a damn good one. Now all I need to do is get a little present that’s fitting so I’m prepared for when that little baby meets mama and pops. And us.

It’s not normal for us to be apart. We live and breathe for each other, with each other. We don’t need words to speak, we don’t need action to understand. We’re like triplets, connected way deeper than most. We talk without words, understand with action. We breathe for each other. We’re three assholes who couldn’t be any more different, yet somehow, we’re still the same. We’re a team with an empire ready and waiting for us.

I scoff, thinking of what Brielle called us—the Three Musketeers. I guess that works in a way, even though our threesome has grown to five. I’m the odd man out now. The leftovers.

We might be fucked-up assholes, but we’re trying to teach our niece, Cap’s baby girl, our way of life, and one of the biggest pieces to keeping it as straight as we’ve managed is our no lie rule. No matter how big the issue, how fucked-up we imagine the aftermath of the truth, that’s what we give. Always.

I try to push away the hint of seclusion it brings. I mean, fuck, I’m the one who came here without them when they’d have hopped in the car with me without a question asked had I asked them to. Still, that nasty sense of fish out of fucking water creeps in. Raven notices, her eyes narrowing, but I avoid eye contact.

“Well, we ordered Chinese at the pregnant lady’s request,” Victoria teases. “But she said it tasted like shit,” Maddoc grumbles. “I swear to God, all she wants to eat is Doritos with hot sauce and sweets.” I laugh, making a mental note to stock up on loads of bad-for-you shit for her when I get home.

“You’re fine without him?” She watches me closely. “I’m a big-ass boy, RaeRae,” I tease. She drops her fork with a click that echoes through the speaker. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. You’re by yourself. Away from us.” “I’m good.” “Says the guy who hates riding in the back seat by his damn self.”

Worry draws her brows together, but she looks away, knowing I’m here and they’re there and there’s nothing changing about that until I decide there is. I love her ass for pausing to voice her concern though—she understands me fully.

He gave Maddoc a key, Captain brass knuckles, and me a white gold chain donning the family crest. Each had their own meaning linked directly to who he saw in our eyes, and mine is a presentation of our family’s strength as a whole. At seven, I was smaller than my brothers, skinnier, but not weaker. I was ten-foot-tall in my mind when I stood less than half of that. I remember our dad told me I walked spine straight and shoulders strong, head high and proud.

He gave me the chain that then hung low over my abdomen, and said the crest was mine to wear proudly, like a soldier with his tags, like a general does his medals. He said it represented the fight our family had. The fight he knew I would never walk away or cower from. At seven, maybe even younger, our father saw strength we didn’t yet know, but believed in. But we know it now.

Family runs deeper than blood. A bold, brave statement that’s the truest I’ve ever heard. We understood the power of those words as kids, and we hold them even higher now. The ones we love most, we share nothing less than our hearts, minds, and lives with. Something like having dinner together might seem trivial to those on the outside, but it’s far fucking more to us.

Eating together is a tradition we’re not willing to break, and only did a few times as of recent when our world was fucked and never want to do it again. It’s something we promised each other as we grew, that no matter how fucked our world might be at times, no matter the wild, the trouble we’re facing, be it town drama or our own, the last meal of the day we’d spend together. At the end of the day it’s a good way to refresh our memories, in case we ever forget—if nothing else, we’ll always have each other. Family by choice.

Mobster and musketeers. The girl thinks she’s educated when it comes to our world. I’m thinking not. But why the fuck am I thinking of the brat to begin with? Maybe I do need to go home.

By the time I realize where I’m headed, I’m already there. Parked right outside of Brielle’s aunt’s house. The house is dark, so I’m ready to keep rolling, but then I spy a splash of silver. What the fuck?

“Come on, come on, come on,” she whispers, her hands coming up to shield her, her fingers gently tapping at her lids.

She is going blind.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses. “Fuck are you doing out here?” I crouch down beside her, my elbows on my knees. Her fingers come up to cover her yawn. “What time is it?” My jaw tics. “Why you outside, in the fuckin’ dark, alone?” Now she glares. “Stop answering my questions with a question.” “Stop askin’ questions and answer mine.” “Oh my god.” She shakes her head with a huff. “The hell are you doing sleeping on a fucking box outside at nine at night?” There. I gave her the time. Consider me fucking kind.

I knew something was fucked-up here. I’ll give her a chance to tell me what it is. “Why are you out here?” She focuses on her bag in my hand.

I’m up the steps, my hand planted on the handle when hers flies out to cover mine, the heat of her palm freezing me on the spot. My eyes slice to hers. The muscles in my stomach coil over, and my arms stiffen around her. She stares up at me, eyes a darkened, tortured turquoise, silently begging me to let go, turn the fuck around and walk back down.

“Girl—” “Brielle.” She tips her chin.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make sure I’m safe,” she says. “I don’t give a shit what you are or aren’t,” I spit. She’s twisting my damn nerves.

“What?” I glare. “I didn’t say shit.” She pulls her lips in, amusement washing over her, and it pisses me off. “You didn’t say anything,” she agrees. “But your face did the whole ‘I’m annoyed’, angry boy thing.” “I am annoyed. You talk too much.”

“That’s what I thought, you’re the black sheep. You didn’t lie to them, but you do bend the rules until they make sense in your favor, sort of ride the line to the very edge, forever jumping before you have a chance to fall.” She lays her head on her fist as she stares up at me. “I’m kind of like that, too. The black sheep, for sure, but the rules... I don’t exactly bend them. I do what I’m supposed to for the most part, with school and at the house and whatnot, but—” She cuts herself off with a scowl and looks away. “You’ll think I’m lame.” “I already do.”

“Oh look.” She swallows. “It’s Franky.” I glare, whipping around in my seat, but the place is as dead as it was when we walked in, nothing but a few trucker-looking couples sitting on the opposite side. I swing back, but as I do my frown flips.

She has my straw between her pink lips and is drinking my shake when hers sits half full right in front of her. Brielle laughs, chocolate spilling onto her chin as she wipes it off with a smile. “You still had whipped cream. I already ate all mine.”

She goes back to stealing my fries as if they’re hers and dips them into her glass. I tell myself to grab our shit and get out of here, that the questions floating in my mind don’t belong, but it doesn’t happen. Instead I scoot the fuckin’ things in the middle of us and do the same damn thing.

“You good, Brielle?” he asks, his gaze shifting to mine.

“Is she good?” Royce gives a cocky chuckle.

Not a second later, my hand is swallowed by his large one. I’m tugged, spun, and placed before him, my back pressed into his front. He walks us past the guys, waiting for the perfect moment to be an ass, and glances over his shoulder. “Oh, she’s good, pretty boy,” he says smugly. “Take my word for it.”

“Keep walkin’ away from me, and Imma start to think you’re looking for a reaction,” Royce calls, officially following behind me now. “That’s because you’re a narcissist!” “Oh, mini’s mad,” he mocks. “This’ll be good.”

“What’s wrong with you?” “Fuck’s wrong with you?” he throws right back. “How about everything you just did.” “What, you wanted a vanilla shake?” He raises a brash brow. “I don’t like vanilla.” “Me either,” he says loudly.

I flick my eyes to the sky. “I swear, you’re like... a pizza pocket. Hot on the outside, so you start eating it, but if you don’t get the timing just right, you find out it’s cold in the middle.” His head tugs back and he gives a hard blink. “What?” I growl and try again. “You make no sense!” “Not seeing the problem here. I’m hot and you want a bite.” “Not what I was saying at all.” He throws his arms out. “Okay, Tiny Tina,

“Your cousin, she’s gonna start shit for you, isn’t she?” I nod. “Probably, yeah.” “She’s a bitch.” “Definitely.” I laugh. “She’s got her reasons, so it’s whatever.” “Don’t make excuses for shitty, stuck-up people who treat you like shit.”

“Oh yeah, she’s all sorts of sad about it.” I tilt my head like an asshole. “So sad, in fact, she pulled a random stranger’s cock into her mouth a whole five minutes after waking up today.” I glare. “Weird, right?”

Royce gapes at me, and then a loud laugh leaves him. He leans against the door, fully shifting his body to face me. “Well, fuck me, little Bishop.” He wipes at his mouth with a smile. “Didn’t expect the big C word to be your noun of choice.” “Didn’t expect you to know what a noun was, so we’re even.”

He grins. “Say it again, she sucked my cock.” I open my mouth, but quickly close it on a low laugh, shaking my head. I’d say she more like...

“Why aren’t they afraid of your brother?” he asks suddenly. I couldn’t stop the ache from showing itself as I tried, and Royce doesn’t miss it. Realization has his face falling and unease swims in my stomach. I shrug against the seat. “They’d have to know he existed in order to fear him.”

“I’m not allowed to talk about my life before this place, about why or how I ended up here. It’s been almost four years now and not once have I ever gotten to speak to anyone about him. Until today, with you.” I look back to Royce who faces away, but has his eyes locked with mine. “I can’t be me, and I can’t talk about me... how messed up is that?”

“I need you to remember what I said, Brielle.” His eyes meet mine, a weighty seriousness suddenly woven within them. “Let those assholes think what they want. Don’t fight it, try and change it, or hide from it. Do you. They’re gonna judge you either way.” I search his face for a sign of rehearsed nonsense or hidden agenda, only to come up short.

Impulses of a boy, manners of a man.

I somehow know once I step into the house, he’ll be gone, and not just for the night, but from this town. And I’m right. It wasn’t so bad meeting you, Royce Brayshaw. See you never.

I look up and out the windshield at my house, it’s a full porch I find. Maddoc stands at the railing, Raven right beside him, Cap and Victoria on her left, and little Zoey already two steps down. They’re smiling at me. Waiting for me. Damn if it’s not a settling-ass sight.

I look to Raven and she knocks her elbow into mine, a small smile on her lips. A half a second passes, and her sigh comes next. I’m right there with the comfort seeping in. The security. The relief that comes with having someone in your corner, no matter fucking what. We’re lucky. Not everyone has a safe place. Pretty sure Brielle doesn’t. And there it is. Fuck.

Will this forever be my new normal? My brothers with their girls, and me by my damn self? Untrusting. Unattached and uninterested.

Micah grins. “Bad fuckin’ move, girl.” “Excuse me—” I cut off when the door is thrown open with a loud bang. All eyes fly to the front of the room and oh. My. God! Shock, cold and quick, spreads through me at the rate of a falling star, stealing my thoughts. My breath. My ability to move. All I can do is stare at the tattooed hellion... who, kill me now, is headed right for me.

He’s every bit of dark and displeased.

“Little Bishop.” His voice is a firm mix of bored and brash. “Royce.” I shake my head. “What—” “I gave you one rule.” I blanch. “Rule.” Rule? “I told you when I call, you answer, and guess what?” He dips a little closer. “You didn’t answer.”

I breathe a sigh of relief... that lasts a whole three seconds, on the fourth, Royce is behind me, bends and lifts my chair off the floor... with me still on it. A light scream leaves me, but I quickly cut it off because there is absolutely nothing I can do about it... nothing but hold on for dear life.