Needing Nevaeh (Rockers' Legacy Book 2)

As I walked back to my bedroom, I saw Sasha going into Nevaeh’s room. The German shepherd adored her. From their first meeting, Sasha had accepted Nev and considered her part of our family. She loved Mia too, but Nevaeh was her second-favorite person in the house.

Bypassing my room, I stopped outside Nevaeh’s and watched them through the open door.

“Are you going to miss me, Sasha?” she asked the dog as she scratched the top of Sasha’s head, earning a soft whine in answer. Nevaeh kissed her snout. “At least someone will,” she muttered.

Straightening, she caught sight of me standing in the doorway. A sad look crossed her face, gutting me, before she masked it. She gave me a cool appraisal before walking to her closet.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked, walking into her room without asking permission. In the mood she was in, I doubted she would have given it anyway.

“What makes you think that?” she asked, not denying it.

“Just tell me what’s wrong, Nevaeh,” I told her, frustrated.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said as she pulled a shirt off a hanger. Going to the case already open on the end of her bed, she folded the shirt and dropped it inside.

She made me want to pull my hair out. “Why are you being like this?” I demanded.

When she didn’t answer, I caught hold of her wrist on her way back to the closet and gently tugged her around to face me. “Did I do something wrong?” She twisted her lips, and I made a pained sound in the back of my throat. “Kitten, I’m not above begging.”

“Okay, fine.”

I nearly groaned because I’d lived with Mia long enough to know those two words were a deadly combination. She said them whenever she was about to tear into Barrick and make his life a living hell until he could get her to forgive him. Hearing them coming from Nevaeh was enough to make me begin to sweat.

“I’m tired, Braxton. Tired of fighting with myself because our friendship has been slowly killing me for the past two years. It’s fucking exhausting pretending like I don’t like you. So, no, you haven’t done anything wrong. This is all on me.” Pulling her wrist free, she took two steps back. She blinked those beautiful, hypnotic blue-gray eyes at me, fighting tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down at her hands that she was clenching together. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Stunned by her confession, I stood there speechless. I wanted to grab her and kiss the breath out of her and make a few confessions of my own, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. Not yet. She was still seventeen for sixteen more hours.

“Nevaeh,” I rasped her name. “I—”

“No, don’t say anything,” she pleaded. “I don’t think I could bear it. I just… I need to shower. Yeah, shower. You should go, Braxton. I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day.”

“Nev, just wait. Listen—”

“I really can’t.” Taking another step back, she shook her head, and twin tears spilled over her lashes. “Please, just go.”

“Fuck this,” I growled and grabbed her by the hips, jerking her into me roughly. “Do not run away from me, Kitten.” Her mouth fell open, but at least her tears seemed to dry up. Those damn things made me crazy, and I couldn’t think clearly whenever I saw them in her eyes. “Now, listen to me. You are seventeen, Nevaeh. Seven-fucking-teen. I know it’s only for a few more hours, but I can’t do what I’ve been thinking about and aching to do for too damn long. Not yet.”

“Wh-what have you been aching to do?” she whispered, her breaths already coming in little pants that pushed her tits up against her old T-shirt.

I pressed my forehead to hers and inhaled deeply, pulling her fruity-floral scent into me. Her smell always calmed me, but I knew it was because my brain knew it as her scent. “Things I should have been shot for thinking about because you were too young. Now please, stop thinking stupid shit, and just give me a little more time before you go breaking your heart because you imagine I don’t feel the same way you do.”

Chapter 4

Nevaeh

The entire flight to California, I felt like my entire body was humming, and I couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off my lips. All I could do was relive the moment in my bedroom that morning with Braxton.

For two years, I thought what I felt for him was unrequited. That I was the only one suffering in silence, wanting something I thought I could never have. Yet, Brax had hinted that he’d just been waiting until I was eighteen. He’d been aching for the same things I was.

I’d wanted to cancel my plans with my family and just stay home, see what would happen once the clock struck midnight and if Braxton would make a move after I turned the magical age of eighteen. But he seemed to know that and urged me to go, promising when I got back…

Well, he hadn’t actually said what would happen when I got back. I knew he had his family obligation to deal with later that night, and he was stressed enough over that for me not to want to add more pressure onto his shoulders, so I hadn’t demanded he tell me all the details I yearned for. Just knowing that something would happen was enough for the moment.

There was a black SUV waiting on the tarmac when the door of PopPop’s jet was opened. Marcus exited first, making sure everything was clear before sticking his head back in and letting Mia know it was safe to leave our seats. Marcus wasn’t expecting some sniper or a madman with a knife to attack us. It was more a horde of paparazzi that could jump out from behind some random vehicle he was concerned with.

Now that Mia and I were older, we were getting even more attent

ion from photographers and other reporters, wanting all the dirty secrets on us since we were leading more separate lives from our parents. They didn’t often get much, so they resorted to embellished half-truths. Their newest theory was that I had a secret addiction, saying the apple didn’t fall far from the tree since my dad was a recovering alcoholic. They didn’t seem to care that he’d been sober for twenty years.