Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

He jerks away.

A switch is flipped and suddenly his guilt and embarrassment is too much, clouded with anger and resentment and confusion.

He has no clue how to channel all the emotions flying at him at once and he knows it, the realization only makes this harder for him.

He deals with it the only way that makes sense to him in this moment, by pointing a finger at someone else in hopes it dulls the ache building inside him.

“You think I trusted her?” he asks with disgust, and I get the feeling it’s directed at himself. “I would never trust a word she says, not that I believe a fucking word you’re saying either.”

Fair enough.

His words are lies though, it’s why he’s coming undone in this exact moment—hearing the truth, that she didn’t simply get caught up or have an emergency she couldn’t get out of. She chose not to meet her daughter, turning her back on her for the second time, that’s how he sees it and it’s killing him.

“What did you do, go looking for her?” he asks, shaking his head spitefully, but doesn’t let me answer. “You knew I was with her the other day, you been following me again?”

He throws the coffee cup, sending it shattering into the sink, but I don’t jump like I imagine he wanted me to.

“You need to mind your own fucking business,” he barks, stepping back only to creep in again. “Stay out of things that don’t concern you, especially something like this. You don’t know what’s best for her. You’re not her fucking mom!” he shouts.

My muscles grow stiff and as if I swallowed a lump of flour, I fight for air I can’t get.

He keeps going, and in my peripheral, both his brothers move closer, fearful their calm and collected brother might be losing his balance.

“She might like you, Victoria, but she’s three! She likes everyone!” His voice carries across the house, echoing along the halls and ricocheting against my temples. He drives it home, pushing a hard finger into my chest as he tips his chin, staring at me through his lashes. “You are not her mom.”

I never tried to be her mother, I only wanted to make sure she forever had someone in her corner when he couldn’t be, but I can’t say that to him now.

So instead I nod my head and say, “You’re right. I’m not.”

But my surrender to his words has a triggering effect, and the anger and pain he was trying to push off onto me, soaks inside his own soul.

Naturally, as one does when they’re consumed with more than they can handle, drowning with no sight of the surface, he pushes harder, cuts deeper.

I see it in his eyes, the resolve, the cut of the cord he was barely hanging on to.

His shoulders square, eyes narrowing as his lip curls.

“Maybe it’s good your mother was murdered,” he growls.

“Captain!” Raven snaps.

He ignores her, creeps closer, bending so we’re eye level. “My dad might have shown your mother mercy when she fucked up and stepped over the line, but I won’t be so kind with you.”

That burns a fire under my own skin, and I punch him clear across the fucking jaw.

“Oh shit,” comes from Royce, but nobody moves in.

Captain’s head snaps to the side, the corner of his lip busting, but I wait until he drags it back to speak.

“Fuck you, dick. I would never do a damn thing to take her from her home, and I don’t give a flying fuck if you believe me or not. At this point, I almost hope you don’t just so you feel like a helpless little bitch a time or two when you realize I’m not the fucking bad guy here.” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “You have no idea how fucked what you’re saying is,” I force past clenched teeth. “But if I have to be the bad guy to make you feel better, fine. Consider me warned, Cap. And fuck right off.”

I shove again, pushing past him when he calls, “Try and leave and I’ll lock you in that room like a proper fucking princess.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and slowly, I spin to face him.

“Typical broken boy bullshit,” I snap, and his brows crash in the center. “Can’t hardly look at me but can’t stand to see me go.”

Head cocked, he glares through thick lashes, his tongue sneaking out to dab at the blood in the corner of his mouth. “Say what you want, I’m not fucking joking.”

“Do you really think I would give up my place if you don’t come along with it?” I ask, shaking my head. “Because I won’t. So, go ahead, fuck Mallory some more, asshole, you never said you were mine, so you’ve got every right, yeah? But don’t do it expecting me to be sitting on the sidelines or crying in the fucking background. I won’t. I said I wanted you to be my Brayshaw, Captain. I never said a damn thing about needing you to become one.”