Bradford Brawler (Bradford Bastard 2)

A wide grin cuts across my face, my eyes beaming with excitement, not even giving a shit that the douchelord insists on calling me out for my ridiculous private school uniform. “YOU’RE BACK!”

I bound across my room, barreling into my big brother just as he stands, my momentum rocking him back against my bed. He catches me with ease and gives me a tight bear hug, his big arms wrapping right around my small frame.

Damien releases me almost immediately … because he’s far too cool to hug his little sister. Did I mention the guy is a twat? And yes, I mean both versions of that saying. He’s a prick as well as a massive, loosey-goosey vagina, but what can I say? He’s my big brother and I love him, though I’m not about to tell him that.

“So … this is our new place, huh?” he questions, glancing around my ridiculously oversized bedroom with all its fancy things.

“Yup,” I say, popping the p as I make my way into my closet to pick out something to change into. “Mom really leveled up this time. Though, I’m warning you, a new house and husband isn’t the only new thing she’s got.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When did you get back? Have you talked with her yet? She’s a completely different person now, nothing at all like the mom you know. She’s turned into this Stepford wife, wearing designer clothes. She quit all her jobs and joined the country club. Hell, she even hit me … twice.”

Damien stands and turns to gape at me, his brows furrowed in confusion. “The fuck?” he says. “You’re lying. Mom would never do that.”

“Oh, she did,” I say under my breath, picking out a comfy tank and a pair of sweatpants. “Did you hear about the girl who was raped over the summer at a party back home?” I pause, glancing up in time to watch him nod. “Well, this new husband—Orlando Channing—he’s a criminal lawyer and was representing Colby—”

“Wait. Colby? That dickhead you were seeing?”

“Yep,” I say, embarrassed to have to explain all of this to my big brother. “You always said I knew how to pick the good ones. He and Erica were getting together behind my back, and they concocted this plan to mess with this girl, who just happens to be the sister of my new boyfriend—but that’s beside the point. They hurt her really bad and despite everything, Orlando still represented Colby. But the thing is, Orlando is a complete asshole. At first, he tried to get me to make a false statement to clear Colby, and then he went as far as to switch out the rape kits so that Colby would walk free. He doesn’t give a shit about what’s right or wrong, only cares about his reputation.”

Damien just stares at me blankly as I pull my sweatpants on beneath my school skirt. “Literally none of that explained why Mom hit you.”

I think back over everything I just said and realize the guy is right. “Oh, umm … well, a few weeks ago, Erica tried to save herself by claiming I was the one behind the whole thing. I was arrested at school, and they tried to drop rape and attempted murder charges on me.”

“The fuck?” he demands, gaping at me as though he barely even recognizes me right now.

“Right? The whole thing was insane, but it’s fine now. I was able to prove my innocence, but for those couple of weeks while I was waiting for my name to clear, Mom really thought I did it. Can you believe that? She didn’t even give me a chance to explain that I was being set up before she slapped me.”

Damien turns and starts pacing my room, running his hand back through his hair and I can’t help but notice just how much bigger he’s gotten since starting boot camp. “Fuck, Brielle. Why didn’t you text me that things were getting this bad? I could have—”

“Could have what, Damien?” I ask. “You’ve been at boot camp, and I wasn’t about to text you and make you worry over it when there’s literally nothing you could have done. That would only make you feel like shit.”

“You’re right about that,” he mutters under his breath before letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I’ll have a word with her, but I can’t make any promises. I only get a few days off and then I have to head right back again. I can’t guarantee that things will get better, but I won’t leave without trying.”

I shrug my shoulders and cross my room, aiming for my window. “Don’t bother,” I tell him. “There’s no use. She’s barely said a word to me since we moved in here and the few she has said haven’t exactly been nice. She’s changed. I miss our real mom because this imposter has really been fucking with my zen.”