Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

A chuckle leaves me. “Okay, baby.”

I kiss her cheek and stand, following as she climbs into her bed, tucking her blankets to her chin.

She reaches up to grab my face, so I lower, and the vessels attached to my heart pump fiercely, to the point of pain, when she rubs her little nose along mine.

Eskimo kisses...

Victoria.

What the hell did I do?

I swallow, kiss her forehead and whisper into her ear, “I love you, Zo.”

She yawns, wraps her arm around her little train and closes her eyes, her soft words finding me right as I begin to close the door, “Love you, Daddy.”

Daddy.

Something I am because I was gifted with the position, and not by one girl, but two.

I go to step into my room, but when I spot Royce’s door open, I move to his instead.

I need advice, help.

I need my fucking brothers.

We don’t hide from each other, never lie or go behind the others’ backs, and I’ve done all of this in the last few days.

Betrayal burns deep into my core, and it’s coming from every angle, but I suck it up and step inside his room, ready to give every last detail only to find it empty.

I move inside, sitting on the edge of his bed and drag my hands down my face.

I could easily go down to get Maddoc, but I won’t wake up Raven when I know she’s having an even harder time sleeping than normal.

They’d both be pissed if they knew I even paused for such a reason.

I decide to text Royce, asking where he’s at and he sends back a single word.

Royce: out.

I sigh, toss my phone to the floor and tug at my hair.

He’s pissed and I am such a dick.

I replay the day, and it’s not the disappointment or anger I expected that I get stuck on. A second round of burning abandonment eats at me as I remember the way Victoria laughed when I admitted I messed up painting Zoey’s nails and had to try again.

It was so soft, even her eyes smiled as if she could picture it or wished to, like she wanted to be there to see it.

I bet she’d have recorded the sight rather than try and step in to do it herself.

Forcing my thoughts to keep moving, my mind goes to the long drive I took with a sleeping Zoey in the back seat. Only then do I realize it’s the same one I took Victoria on.

I was chasing the comfortable silence she gave me, the sense of ease and clear mind she provided. Having her beside me erased the millions of thoughts that were plaguing me only minutes before.

Zoey was home safe with my family, and my girl was safe with me.

My girl?

My lungs deny me a breath as guilt eats at my betrayal like a feast for the wicked, tearing at my insides and reaching for the gut, the one part of me I’ve always been able to follow. To trust as I was taught, but everything that’s happened lately was a result of my decision.

My instincts left me blind.

Nothing Victoria did was to harm.

Victoria changed my world when she left those hospital records for me to find, and then she came into it and changed it again and again, for the good and then the bad, and the truth followed and with it I was struck.

I am struck.

She was loyal to me when she had no reason to be.

The second the thought hits, a heavy sense of desperation floods my veins, and I’m on my feet pacing.

What the fuck did I do?

I need her.

Her hands and her skin and smile, her glare and the bratty little attitude she loves to give when she’s pushing back.

I want her to push back.

I want her.

My feet carry me to her bedroom, and I lay my knuckle against the wood of her door, slowly pushing it open.

The light of the moon is a little brighter than normal tonight and peeking through the edge of the curtain. It hits the chandelier above just right, illuminating her figure beneath the comforter I picked out for her, in the bed that I put together myself because I trusted no one else to do it right.

Her chest rises, wrestling the sheets and alerting me she’s awake, that she knows I’m standing here in her doorway.

As I grow closer, she shifts to lie flat on her back, the blankets moving with her and falling a bit from her body.

My left knee hits the mattress first, and I climb up along her body, between her open legs until my palms are flat beside her shoulders.

I can see her face now.

She watches me, a softness in her eyes I don’t see often, but the slight lift of her lips is sorrow-filled, and the pain cuts into my own skin.