Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 1)

“Yes, big man, I do.” I look away and continue. “Our trailer had a couple windows, but I wasn’t allowed to move the sheets to let light in.” I frown thinking about it. “Not even when the electric was out.”

“Why not?”

“Plenty of reasons. She didn’t want people to see inside, didn’t like the sun in her face when she was coming down, slept through the day to work through the night. The list goes on and on.”

“So you were locked inside a small, dark space most of the time. How’s that work for someone scared of the dark?”

I lick my lips. “It doesn’t. I spent as minimal time home as possible. Once I got older, I tried to only be home when she was gone, but she was so unpredictable I never knew for sure. She’d work from home for a couple weeks then take off for one, come home and sleep for days at a time, then start over. But I mean, it was all normal to me, so it didn’t seem as fucked up as it sounds now.”

He stays quiet.

“I know nothing about her life before me other than her dad died from hepatitis from using dirty needles – it’s why she’s always stayed away from injecting.”

“And her mom?”

“A different type of lethal drug combination.”

“Damn.”

“Sounds crazy, but” – I think about the younger kids in my trailer park and the things they see, parents they live with and the vices they can’t escape – “others have it worse.”

“And you punched that girl, ready to go right back. You can’t prefer that over this place.”

“I know that place. I ran through those streets at night. Not without danger, but at least I know my role. I don’t have to think to function there, everything is second nature. I’m not saying it’s where I belong, but ... at least I know what to expect if I decide to go back.”

I look over at Maddoc.

He stares for a few seconds and I know he wants to argue, maybe even say I belong thinking I need soothing or something when I don’t, but he accepts it for what it is and nods instead.

I stretch against the mattress and flip over on my stomach, facing him.

I change the subject.

“Were you ever gonna admit you sleep better in this bed than yours?”

He groans and pulls me half on top of him, my torso laying sideways across his naked chest. “No. I wasn’t. My brothers have big mouths.”

“And big dicks!” Royce shouts from the hall.

Maddoc reaches over, picking up his water bottle from the nightstand and chucks it at the door. “Quit fucking listening by the door!”

“I was doing no such thing!” Royce shouts from the other side. “I was simply walking by and heard you talking.”

“Keep walking, Royce!” I shout and I hear his feet carry him away.

Maddoc shifts his frown to me. “Why’s he listen to you?”

“’Cause.” I grin, running my fingertip across his pec lines. “He likes an authoritative woman.”

Maddoc glares, making me laugh.

“We need to get up. You have practice and I need to go to the store.”

He lets me go, but I feel his questioning eyes on me as I stand and pull out a pair of jeans from the drawer, slipping them on. I pull a hoodie over my tank top and put my hair up into a ponytail, smoothing the top with my hands before dropping onto the mattress to put shoes on.

I stand and turn to Maddoc, finding him still staring.

“What?”

His eyes travel over me with unnerving thoroughness, and a small smile pulls at his lips. “Just like that, huh?”

When I tilt my head in question, he makes his way to me. Slipping his hands up the back of my shirt, he pulls me to him.

“You just stand, throw some shit on, run your fingers through your hair and come out looking like a fucking wet dream?”

I pop a brow. “Thanks?”

His eyes bounce between mine before he takes his time leaning down and catches my lips between his. He nips, then kisses me with a slow, obsessive rhythm.

“Let’s go, fuckers!” Royce shouts from down the hall and Maddoc pulls back.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” He goes to walk out but pauses in the doorway. “Why can’t you wait until we’re done at practice and we’ll take you to the store?”

“That question sounds a lot like suspicion.”

He shrugs a shoulder, unapologetic at his inability to trust.

I appreciate it. It lets me know we’re still in safe territory when it’s starting to feel a little more than risky.

“Come to practice. We’ll stop after.”

“I guess I can wait.” I meet him in the doorway.

He grabs the ends of my hair, running his fingers through the colored tips of my ponytail.

And like a real dumb girl, I smile when he smirks and walks away.