Page 83 of Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

Only when the moon is ready to rest does he pull down the long dirt road to the mansion.

Inside the house, he pauses in the hall near his door.

Once again, he pulls me to him, his eyes a deeper blue, the green a thin hidden ring around them, and he leans in, kissing the same spot as earlier before he lets me go, stepping into the bathroom.

I stand there, listening as the shower is turned on, the soft vibration of the glass door opening and closing.

Before I can stop myself, I’m in his bedroom, standing right in front of his nightstand.

My fingers graze along the brass handle of the drawer, readying to open it and pull out the journal I know sits inside, but then his phone vibrates right on top, the screen lighting the still dark room with a message not meant for me to see, from a name I wish I didn’t.

My Mallory: when?

No.

My stomach bottoms out, dread digging deep within my chest and knocking me back.

I fall onto his mattress as the inevitable coils in my gut, stripping me of what I thought was our start.

But here he was, reaching for a completely new one.I push my feet into my shoes, bending to pull the back up over my heel when Raven comes around the corner fanning herself. “Where are you going?”

“To get some air,” I tell her as I walk out, shutting the door behind me and start down the dirt road toward the Bray houses.

The girls are scattered around, coming in and out, as are the boys from their house, all getting their daily required chores completed.

“Need a hand?”

Nira, turns around, and shrugs, getting back to pulling the weeds. I drop to my knees beside her, digging right into the dirt, and damn if the feel of the cooled soil doesn’t calm me.

Nira laughs. “You want some gloves?”

She holds out a box, but I shake my head.

“I’m good.”

“Right,” she scoffs. “If you were good, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday morning on your knees in the dirt at the group home you used to live in when you now live with a bunch of rich kids in a fancy-ass mansion.”

“Meh.” I shrug. “It’s not that fancy.”

When I look up, we both laugh.

“For real, though. If you don’t want people to think you’re miserable, maybe don’t look like you are.” Her eyes lift to the messy ball on my head held back by a green bandana. “And try brushing your hair.”

I fight a grin. “Shut up or you can do this by yourself.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No, but I have a joint we can smoke once your chores are done.”

She looks up. “Okay, you get the right side; I’ll get the left.”

I smirk. “Deal.”

We’re done quick, and hiding out on the opposite side of the house, smoking.

“So I ran into Mike,” she says casually as she takes a hit, missing the way my muscles lock.

“Oh yeah,” I spin the bandana around my wrist. “When?”

“Couple days ago. I went into the Chinese place downtown to use the restroom, and when I was coming out, he was walking in.”

He hates Chinese food.

He followed her there.

“What’d he say?”

“Asked how I was, how it was going at the house, and about you, duh.”

I nod, rubbing my lips together. “What’d you tell him?”

“That if he was smart, he wouldn’t go around asking about Captain Brayshaw’s newest Bray Girl.” She shrugs, passing me the joint.

Bet he just loved hearing that.

“He just laughed,” she continues. “Saw him leave a few minutes later. He got a new car.”

My brows pull and I look to her. “Yeah?”

She nods. “Must have found himself a nice gig wherever it is he took off to. That sucker couldn’t have been cheap.”

I nod, but don’t comment.

What are you up to, Mike?

Nira takes one more hit and passes it back again, slowly pushing to her feet. “I’ve got to take a shower before the rest of the girls get done with their chores and hog the hot water. See you around.”

Just like that, the other half of the day is left for me and my jumbled mind.

I make my way around the front of the group home, glancing from the girls’ to the boys’ home just across from it, and out at the street ahead.

Fuck it.

I drop onto the grass where I stand and pull my phone out, flipping it around in my hand.

I take a deep breath, glaring at the screen.

I decide to try Maria again, but again there is no answer and her mailbox is full. It’s annoying, and to be honest I don’t even know why I keep trying, if she doesn’t want to talk, that’s fine. I shouldn’t care.

I don’t care.

But why the fuck can’t she answer?

What if it was about Zoey?

Where’s Captain?

And why the fuck is Mike still here and how the hell did he buy a new car?