My hand is on the handle but unmoving, and Royce is the one that has to open my door.
When he gets a look at my face, he sighs and moves closer. He grips my ankle and wrist and pulls me to the door, wrapping me in a hug.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he tells me. “And knock that shit off. This ain’t your fault.”
My eyes pool with tears despite my best effort.
These boys are turning me into a damn mess.
I don’t cry.
“That’s not true and you know it. You’re both mad at me and we haven’t even talked it out yet.” I pull back to look him in the eye. “Maddoc only went over there to fuck shit up because of what I did.”
Royce moves back a little so Cap can squeeze in beside us.
“No.” Captain shakes his head and reaches for my hand. I let him pull me out and to my feet. He bends down a little to look me in the eye. “Maddoc fucked him up because he did what he did. This week, next week, doesn’t matter. You should already know, if you’d have done what you should have and come straight to us instead of acting brave alone like you’re used to, he would have reacted the same. Maddoc is fucking fierce, Raven. He loves us. Would die for us, but we’re his brothers. He’s never loved before. This? This is what that looks like.”
A breath lodges in my throat and I shake my head.
Cap shakes his right back. “We’re not having this conversation, but I know my brother. Whether you know it, whether he fucking knows it, it’s in there. Maybe not fully grown but Raven you’re inside him in a way nobody ever has been. He will always act in defense first, especially when you’re at the center of the threat.”
I nod, glancing at Royce.
“Fists first, fixes later,” he says.
“Kinda sounds like me,” a laugh bubbles out of me and they grin gravely.
“And we were pissed at you, maybe still are, to be honest, but we understand now. We see what you did and why, and we love you more for it even though you made the wrong move.” Royce’s eyes slide between mine, the honesty of his words hitting me hard and meaning more than I could express if I tried. “Now come on. We still have an hour but let’s get in there, the seats fill up fast.”
Together, three strong, we head inside for our fourth man.
Three fucking days.
They stuck me in a damn cell by myself for three fucking days. Not once did I get let out. No calls. No other inmate interactions, not that I wanted it, but still. Three days of nothing but a fucking guard who would stick a tray through the metal bars. He didn’t even speak.
I have no idea what’s going on at home.
I don’t know if Collins and his lackeys came after my family or if Raven took off again for some stupid fucking reason she cooked up. I don’t know shit.
I have never in my life felt more helpless.
And if I didn’t get a message from our lawyer telling me I’d finally see a fucking judge today for bail, I’d have lost my shit and threw my name around, forced them to feel the weight of it until they told me what I needed to know. But I trusted my dad and waited it out, just fucking barely.
Right now, my patience is being tested again as I’m crammed in a room with seven others waiting to see the damn judge. Shitty part is this isn’t even the only room, so who knows how long this could take.
If I lean forward a little and look to the left, I can see inside the room across from me where more inmates wait just the same.
The officer who led us in here stands in the center of the hall, blocking us from the others. He hits both door frames with his little nightstick to gain attention.
“Listen up!” he shouts, pulling up his belt to cover the potbelly hanging over. “Last names A through H, line up in front of that door. Face forward, no turning or communicating with the inmate in front of or behind you.” He points his toy my way, looking right at me. “You first.”
My pulse kicks higher at being singled out with these people around. My name hasn’t been said out loud in here. They have no fucking clue who I am and what would happen to them if they decided to act like brave little bitches and start a pointless fight for the sake of dick measuring. While I’d love to put someone in their place right now, I’ve got a lot of tension to burn, I need out of this fucking shit today.
Or maybe I’m fucking trippin’ from being in here three days with no contact and he simply called on the first eyes he locked with.
I take my time standing and slowly shuffle toward the door, the clinking of other inmate’s shackles echoing behind me.
They put these fucking cuffs on that bound at the wrist, a thin chain hanging down and connecting at the ankles, making it awkward to walk and cutting my strides in half. It’s infuriating.
I stand facing a door and my senses kick in.
He just fucking tucked me into a corner and expects me to stand here blind. I don’t fucking think so.
I start to turn when a hiss hits my ear.
“Do. Not. Turn around.”
My muscles lock, my shoulders stiffening.
“Stay perfectly fucking still or we’re made.”
“The fuck?” I hiss back, but he silences me.
“There’s no one behind me, someone’s causing commotion, but I only have a minute before the rest are in line and you’re brought into the courtroom. Give a tight nod if you were left alone?”
I do as he asks.
“Good. I asked for it, sorry for the no communication but I didn’t want your brothers stepping in and trying to speed up the process. I made them keep you waiting until my lawyer could get me here.”
I frown at the old wood in front of me.
“It took a lot of work, a lot of money and promises, but I’ll be reviewed for a parole release today.”
“Dad— ”
“I’m sorry to spring this. This isn’t normally how these things work, but it’s the only way. Things are moving quicker than planned, and I need to be home now more than ever.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I snap quietly.
“Shh. You’ll understand soon.”
“All right, the rest of you, in line!” the officer shouts behind us and my dad curses.
“They’re out there for you, son,” he whispers.
Annoyance flares. It’s not right to catch them off guard like this.
Cap is gonna freak if this goes how our dad clearly has planned. He’ll be forced to tell him he has a daughter he hid from him for the last two, almost three years. Cap will worry this will affect the little visitation he does have with Zoey.
But the irritation can only get so far before it’s replaced with anxiousness.
If they’re here, she will be, too. And if she’s not, something is wrong.
This also means my dad will see her. With all the shit going wrong lately, there’s no fucking way he hasn’t linked it directly to our newcomer. If he tries to push her out, I’ll push back for the first time in my life.
If she’s even here.
The door is pulled open and I bounce my shoulders quickly before we’re ushered through a narrow walkway and then straight into the open courtroom. My eyes immediately find them.
Four rows back, three seats over.
And my baby is here.
Her eyes fly across my face and form and she breathes a visible sigh of relief her head dropping to Captain’s shoulder a second when she finds I’m in one piece. Untouched.
No one can hurt me, baby.
I meet Cap’s eyes and he nods. Royce tips his chin.
And then I tense, wondering if they’ll spot him behind me, but when I turn around and face forward, being the first to walk out and first to reach my seat, I see he isn’t there, but another inmate instead.
I tip my head back to look down the line as discreetly as possible.
He’s not there.
My brows meet at the center and I face forward.
In the next second, the judge is announced, and she jumps straight to it.
She pic
ks up the first file and flips it open.
Her eyes pop up instantly, a quick shift of her features as her face pulls tight.
Guess I’m up first.
I can’t hold still, and spin in my chair and meet Captain’s, then Royce’s stare and their brows snap in.
Raven shifts in her chair, turning to whisper something at Royce.
“Forward, now.” The guard walks over to give his demands and I clench my teeth, forcing myself to listen to this prick.
Bet he’s tight with my dad but has to act all fucking bad out here, like he’s the boss. Like what he says goes.
He’s got on a pair of twenty-five-hundred-dollar Valentino boots, and a fucking Shinola watch ... with a sixty-dollar mandated uniform.
He’s on someone’s payroll.
And this isn’t me judging. This is Brayshaw.
“First case this morning: Maddoc Brayshaw. Charged with assault and breaking and entering.”
I stand, making way the few feet forward to stand behind the desk as instructed.
Her hands shake slightly as she reads over whatever is in front of her, her shoulders visibly relaxing in the next second.
“Your case has been dismissed and no charges filed. Please, sir, wait for your paperwork and move back to your seat.” She dismisses me and before I can even turn around, she’s picking up the next file.
I glance at my family as I make my way to the clerk stamping some shit on my paperwork and they smile at me, but my brows pull in when I see a guard slipping into the row behind them, dropping to whisper in their ear.
Cap’s brows furrow and Royce’s stare slices back to mine in question.
I give a tense nod.
This has to be about Dad.
I’m pushed through the side door right as they stand and shimmy past the others seated beside them.
The door clicks and I turn, coming face to face with my dad.
I don’t often get to stand near him, the few times he allowed us to visit, he’s usually already sitting at the table once we’re cleared to come in, and contact isn’t allowed so there’s no hugging and shit. Not that he’s a hugger.
Hell, he could be, I’m not really sure, it’s been so long.
Standing with him now, it’s strange.
We’re almost the same height, but he’s got me beat by an inch. His build is the same as mine, though. Solid muscle without the fullness like Captain’s or the trim cuts Royce has. We’re more tapered around the edges.
Same green eyes, same dark hair only his is lined with silver edgings.
The door we entered through slammed again and I snap back to reality.
“Son,” he nods, looking me over just the same as I did him.
He nods to the guard in the room who quickly comes over and uncuffs me.
“I had your paperwork processed early, that was more for formality and to get your brothers here. It’s happening right now, they’re bringing them to the hearing room down the hall as we speak.”
The bag with my clothes in it is handed to me.
We’re about to be forced to listen to our dad, innocent or guilty, talk about why he, a convicted rapist, should be set free.
Raven has to hear this.
Suddenly I wish I could warn them, not that they’d go if I did.
“It’s fucked up, you’re making us watch this,” I speak my mind.
His eyes slope around the edges. “I know what I’m doing, son. You’re going to have to trust me.”
“That’s not easy for me right now,” I tell him honestly.
“I know, son. I know.” He nods. “Change, exit that door and enter the first room on the left.”
The guard opens the door to a back hallway, and he walks that way.
“Maddoc,” he calls, and I look back to him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
And he walks out.
I make quick work of changing and splash some water from the fountain on my face, then rush to where he directed me.
When I enter, I find my brothers and Raven already inside, a wary look on all three of their faces.
The door I came through is on the opposite side and I try to move toward them, but a guard tells me to sit and a line of people walk through the door.
My shoulders grow heavy, but I sit.
“Let’s move into this quickly as this wasn’t on the schedule,” a new judge states as he sits.
The side door opens and out walks our father, but he faces away from us.
I look to Royce and Captain and they slowly sit forward, bracing their hands on their knees.
I can’t say for sure if they recognize him or if they’re curious as to what the hell is about to happen and why they were sent this way.
“Today, we’re here on a motion for parole, Stockton, San Juaquin County verses,” – the man swallows – “Rolland Brayshaw.”
“The fuck...” can be heard from Royce and again I jerk around to look at them, Royce is trying to stand, but Captain reaches across a stunned Raven and pulls him back down.
Both move to grip the seats in front of them.
And Raven. Her face is lined with tension as she stares toward my dad.
I spin back around.
He faces dead forward, his eyes locked on the judge.
I can’t see him fully, but the man can, and his fear shows it. He pauses a moment to lick his lips and discreetly slides his eyes to the guard. “Mr. Brayshaw, you were arrested and charged on one account of rape and grand theft auto and attempting to traffic cocaine, where you were found guilty, and sentenced to fifteen years. Served eleven. Mr. Brayshaw, step forward please.”
He does.
“Mr. Brayshaw, I have here, three letters of support from your local community. It seems you’ve made some positive changes, organized some outreach programs from your position.”
He pulls his lips between his teeth, and my stomach muscles tighten.
Why’s he fucking anxious?
The same second I think it’s gone.
His feet seem to widen despite the shackles holding them close, his shoulders expand, his posture straight. “I have.” His chin lifts.
“I’ve opened what used to be my groundmen’s homes to the youth, housing troubled teenagers or those who need to escape their living situations. All victims of some form of abuse. We have a boy’s and a girl’s home now, both up and running successfully for the last five years. We’ve also created a program that allows these teenagers to go to our schools and receive a higher level of education than offered were they come from. Our success rate for graduates through our program is very high and increases every year. I’ve learned a lot through the development. I’ve grown as a man and I’m proud of the work we’re doing.
“And it hasn’t just been me. My family has also begun the remedial process. In fact.” He nods his head slightly, like he’s convincing himself to continue on, and suddenly I’m not sure I want him to. “My sons are here today, one under unfortunate circumstance, the other two in support of us both.”
The people on the panel raise their eyes to the room.
“And the young woman seated between them,” the judge starts and an ache hits deep in my ribs.
I sit forward.
“She’s a resident at our all-girl’s home. We rescued her from her home just a few short months ago, where she suffered from abuse, both mentally and physically. She’s also a victim of sexual assault.”
I jerk around in my seat to look at Raven.
This can’t be fucking true. I read her file a solid ten fucking times. There is nothing in that thing that mentions sexual abuse.
“She has come with them today to show her silent support as she’s found comfort with my family and helped show them things I am unable to being locked in here. She’s brought a woman’s touch back into their lives, softened their hearts.”
The woman on the end slides her eyes back to Raven and curiosity has her scooting closer in her seat. “Is this true, do you live in this gir
l’s home?”
Shit.
What. The. Fuck.
My muscles work on their own and suddenly I’m standing.
The boys stand. Maddoc stands.
“Miss?” the woman tries again, but I ignore her, my eyes locked on the back of Rolland Brayshaw’s head.
He said Stockton. My home town.
“And she too.” My insides tighten when he speaks again, the familiarity in his tone now ringing in my ears and sending a sting down my spine. “Has learned from them. She understands now,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “The importance of finding people you trust.”
My airway is cut off, and fire burns up my tongue.
No fucking way...
He turns around to face me, the motherfucker boldly meeting my eyes and everything clicks. “She understands ... how family runs deeper than blood.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I think I say out loud, but I can’t be sure.
“Cap ... what is this?” Royce whispers.
Maddoc shifts like he’s ready to jump the little picket, but the officer at his side slides in his path, gripping his waistband where his gun hangs.
“Do you or do you not live in one of Mr. Brayshaw’s group homes?” The judge gets louder.
I narrow my eyes on the man who has yet to look away since the moment he spun around, not even to meet the eyes of his sons. He hasn’t even fucking blinked.
The man whose home I’m living in.
The man whose son I’m fucking, just like he used to fuck my mother at night.
The man who gave me my fucking knife.
I force my eyes to the judge. My voice is low, but it’s strong. “Yes.”
I shake off Captain when he tries to touch my arm, likely about to whisper something I don’t want to here. I shrug away. “I live in the Bray house.” Just not the all-girl’s house.
“Ms. Carver, do you wish to speak on behalf or against Mr. Brayshaw? Perhaps on your experience at the home, if you feel safe there. It could help us make a decision.”
The weight of Big Man’s stare is on me, but I can’t bring myself to look his way.
If I see demand in his eyes, I might do the opposite.
If I saw regret, I might walk away and never look back.
If I saw pain ... I might just fucking cry.
Trouble at Brayshaw High Page 11