Page 122 of Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

It starts on the far right, and like a wave, it rises and falls in perfect sync with her curves, stopping at her breastbone.

Family runs deeper than blood.

My eyes fly to hers, my feet subconsciously pulling me closer.

Her smile is small and tight, unsure.

She licks her lips. “When I was little, I had no knowledge of who I was or why I was alive. My maid and my teacher called me Girl, Mike called me Garden Girl.” She laughs, but it’s sad.

“He was the boy, the friend you had there who talked to you through the wall, wasn’t he?”

She nods. “I didn’t know until later, but Mero had planted Mike at the Graven Estate, hoping he’d find me and he did, came to live with us a couple years later, once Mero was sure he had all my trust,” she shares. “Even when he did he, he still called me what he knew me as.”

“Perkins,” I say. “He said before Mero you had no identity...”She licks her lips. “The day he came for me, on the drive back to his house, Mero said to me, ‘everyone has a place in the world, and you’ve just found yours’.” Her eyes gloss over, and she lifts them to lock with mine. “He told me his name, and then he gave me mine.”

“He was Brayshaw when he left...” Maddoc draws out, looking from her tattoo to me.

“In Mero’s mind, that’s all he ever was.” Her eyes bounce between mine. “Even when he pawned off his own son to Graven for them to raise. Even later, when he tied himself to them even more by taking me.”

Everyone has a place in the world, and you’ve just found yours...

“Brayshaw,” I whisper. “He gave you his name, our name.”

She nods. “He said I had to earn it for it to be true, so I did, and then I came here and realized I was everything opposite of what it meant to belong in a place like this. My purpose changed overnight, and nothing had ever felt more... right.”

Suddenly I’m in front of her, my knuckle on her chin, but I don’t have to lift, she does it for me, staring me straight in the eyes.

“I knew you were meant for me,” I rasp, my fingertips skimming across the tattoo.

“It shouldn’t have been so hard to get here,” she whispers, her palms flattening on my chest.

“Yeah.” I nod. “It should have. We don’t love without a little bloodshed.”

Her muscles tighten, and I push closer. “Guess you don’t want me to be your Brayshaw anymore?”

She smiles, shaking her head no.

“Good.” I sink my hands into her hair, my eyes falling to those lips I’ve fucking missed. “I don’t want to be your Brayshaw, I want to be your man.”

She pushes onto her toes, aligning her mouth with mine. “But, Captain… we can’t always have what we want,” she whispers my words. “Now can we?”

“We’re Brayshaw, baby. We want, we get.”

No exceptions.I fill the cup to the brim, slowly pouring it over Zoey’s head and she laughs.

“Waterfall!” She smiles, reaching across to grab the floating baby doll from the water, and stands.

“You ready to get out, princess?”

She nods, so I set the cup on the counter, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around her as I lift her from the bathtub.

I kiss her hair as I carry her into her room and get her dressed in her pajamas.

“Rora!” she shouts.

I look toward the door and there Victoria stands.

She leans against the doorframe, her eyes on us.

Zoey sits at her little vanity, handing me her brush.

Victoria chuckles, but her breath lodges in her throat when I hold the light blue comb in the air.

Slowly, Victoria walks into the room, taking it from my hands as she steps up behind Zoey, and I behind her.

My hand covers hers, one on the brush, the other on the tiny chair, and my head falls into the crook of her neck.

She guides, and together we brush my daughter’s hair.

“Rora, you know what?” Zoey asks her.

“What, ZoZo?” she responds, resting her cheek against me.

“Miss Maybell said we can make cookies tomorrow, with M&M’s. Want me to make one for you?”

“Can I have extra M&M’s?”

She laughs, picking up the plastic brush in front of her and brushing the giant Barbie head on her vanity. “Okay, Rora.”

I smile, sliding my head back slightly so my mouth can graze along Victoria’s collarbone, and she inhales deeply.

I drag my lips to her ear. “At some point, we’ll sit her down, and tell her... that you don’t like sweets.”

An airy chuckle leaves her, and she pulls back, but only far enough to where our eyes can meet. “Not a chance.”

I lift my left hand, pushing her hair from her shoulder and her eyes close.

“You, uh, want me to take her for the night?”