by Blue Saffire
“You’re my brother. I see you running, I’m running after you,” Ryan shrugs.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brax huffs. “Heather, you ride my bike. I’ll walk.”
“I’m fine,” I protest.
Braxton turns a glare on me. I lift a brow, but I get the feeling I don’t want to argue with him today. I walk over to his bike, climbing on, as he holds it up for me.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“It’s nothing,” Braxton replies, but I notice the blush that crawls up his cheeks again.
Braxton
Letting her ride my bike is the least I could do. Heather has no idea how crazy I am about her. I’ve had a crush on her forever.
Those pretty, sad brown eyes, her full bow lips, the way her lashes fan her cheeks, and her cute button nose. She didn’t get the Lockhart nose like Bean did. Heather has a mash up of her dad and mom’s noses,—it’s smaller, sharp, but still pudgy. The perfect fit for her face.
Her skin is so clear, with its warm brown color. Heather has the complexion of that actress, from that movie, Center Stage. Zoe Saldana, I think her name is. Heather’s long dark hair adds something to her face. Like the long strands are creating or hiding a mystery.
I’m one of the few people that knows what Heather’s hiding under those baggy clothes. Or at least, what she thinks she’s hiding. I look over at her riding on my bike and shake my head.
Heather thinks she’s hiding, she isn’t. Not as much as she would like to be. My blood boils as I think of the reason she’s been hiding for years. I wanted to gut that fucker.
I could’ve taken him. I know I could. Boy, am I going to kick Ry’s ass later.
I hadn’t recognized her stepfather at first. It’s been so long, since I last saw him. Yet, that look in Heather’s eyes. I knew right away I was dealing with the person that hurt her.
I can’t explain it. I got out of my last class and went to practice. Mark Rochelle was running his mouth because I took his spot, as point guard this year. I was already agitated for no reason, so I shut his ass up.
When coach told me to go home, I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I needed to get home. I needed to get there as soon as I could.
I knew Ry was on my heels, but I had no time to stop him. I would’ve done the same thing if I saw him take off the way I had. I just didn’t expect him to hold me back.
Had I lost it? Yeah, I could only see black. There’s no telling what I would’ve done if Ryan wasn’t there. I’m still lanky, I haven’t filled out like my older brothers, but I would’ve done some damage for sure.
I grin to myself, as images of that fucker’s busted lip come to mind. I would’ve loved to have landed that upper cut. Fuck, I need to hit the weights. I should’ve done more damage with that right hook.
“Hey,” Heather breaks into my thoughts, as we stop in the driveway to my house. Ryan has already dropped his bike to run inside.
“Yeah,” I reply, looking into her big eyes.
“I meant what I said,” she whispers. “Someday, one day, we’ll get him. When I know for sure he can’t hurt the people I care about. We’ll get him.”
“Hurt us how?” I wrinkle my brows.
“Nothing,” she says, turning away.
My curiosity is seriously peeked. If that fucker has been threatening Heather or my family, I plan to put a stop to it. One phone call and that guy can be dust in the wind. I’ll give up my dreams of being the one to rip him apart if I need to.
“Heather, what are you not telling me?”
“You do know, I’m the older one here,” she gives me a side glance.
“You act like I give a shit. Tell me how he could hurt us,” I demand.
“What are ye two conspiring about,” my mom calls, as she stands in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishrag.
“Nothing,” we reply in unison.
I turn to narrow my eyes at Heather. Her eyes dart away from mine, as she starts for mom. This isn’t over. It’s time I start to do some digging into that asshat. Having a dad with a PI firm has it’s perps. I’ll get my own answers.
I’m not fucking around with that pussy.
Chapter 9
Still Beautiful
Heather
It’s been two weeks, since Ernest and his friend turned up just down the block from my home. I’ve waited for the guys to finish practice every day since. I don’t walk home alone anymore.
If the boys have an away game, I wait for Nellie and Bean to finish with their after-school clubs. I’ve had to just suck it up and sit through drama club twice so far. It wasn’t so bad.
Only because I got to listen to Nellie sing, while I goofed around with Bean. Bean paints sceneries and props for the play. My cousin is a very talented artist.
I wish I could say that I’ve gotten over seeing Ernest in the place that has become my safe haven, I haven’t. Instead, I’ve been having nightmares left and right. I feel like I can’t breathe.
I’ve been looking over my shoulder every day. I’ve even dug out one of my old beanies. The thought of Ernest touching my hair makes my skin crawl. The very thought makes my hair offensive to me.
My hair has become an outlaw on my own body, like my personal crown of snakes. I haven’t been able to shake the fact that he touched me. Honestly, I’ve taken offense with every part of my body in the last two weeks.
I stand now looking in the mirror. Tears soak my face, as I look at myself. I have my now triple D breasts, wrapped in an elastic bandage. My bottom half is covered in baggy boys’ boxers.
None of it is working to make me feel safer. I still don’t feel hidden. No, it’s the very opposite. I feel so exposed, like a spotlight has been placed on me.
I curl one arm around my waist, reaching up to touch my hair with the opposite hand, raking it through the front, as I sob. I feel so helpless. It’s like the past is playing on repeat in my head.
Ernest’s appearing brings back so many uncertainties and fears. I know my dad is badass. He has a company that makes him prove it all the time, but I’ve never seen my dad in action.
I’ve seen what Ernest and his friends are willing to do. What if he is back to torture me like he used to? I don’t think I can handle that. I saw the look in his eyes, when he looked at me.
I need control, I need to feel safe. I don’t feel safe anymore, I can barely breathe. I growl and charge over to my desk. Snatching up the scissors, I march back over to the mirror.
“You won’t ever touch me again,” I scream-sob at the mirror.
I snip off the first chunk of hair and gasp, as I hold it in my hand. I look at the mass in my palm, just staring at it. I love my hair, or should I say loved.
An internal war wages within, as I think of all of the times Ernest touched it, complimenting me on it. My hatred for his attention outweighs my secret vanity. I sob harder for my loss, while tossing the hair in my hand to the floor.
I begin to hack at the rest of my hair, throwing chunks at my feet. It’s not enough. When I’ve cut the length to my ears, it’s still not enough. I head to my parents’ room for my father’s clippers.
I find Dad’s grooming kit, taking it back to my room with me. Plugging in the clippers, I sit a chair in front of the mirror, plopping down into it. Taking a deep breath, I buzz off the left side.
I release a strangled noise, when I see the side of my scalp covered by less than an inch of hair. Tossing the clippers to the floor, I just stare at them. I cover my face with my palms.
“What the fuck have you done, Heather,” I whisper to myself.
I peek through my fingers to look in the mirror and groan. My father is going to know something is up. He’ll go after Ernest and I’ll never see him again.
“Fuck,” I yell.
I run my fingers through the hair left on the right side. I have to at least clean this up. If my father walked in on me now, he’d think I’ve lost my mind. I think I may have, but I can’t let him see that.
I huff out a br
eath, nodding at my reflection in the mirror. “I can fix this,” I mutter to myself.
I take out the scissors in dad’s kit and get to work trying to save my hair. I wrinkle my nose at the hack job I’m doing. At least you know, no one’s going to look at you now, I think to myself.
Braxton
Dad and Uncle Rob are working late tonight. They needed Aunt Faith to stay late to help out. Mom asked for someone to go get Heather for dinner with us, at our house.
I offered to do it. I haven’t seen much of Heather, since that fucker showed up. Coach has been lighting into Ry and me. He’s been on my ass because of fighting and Ry’s for skipping practice. Coach has been making us stay over after practice every day since.
It’s total bullshit. Ry and I are the best players on the fucking team. If I didn’t like playing so much, I would’ve told Coach to go fuck himself.
I’ve eaten it. Mostly, because I don’t want to have to answer questions with my mom. Ry and I dodged those questions that afternoon, telling mom some bullshit. I could see she wasn’t buying it. At least, not until Heather came to the rescue, offering a distraction.
Mom forgot all about us and got lost in talking to Heather. I say we make a perfect team, Heather and I do. When I’m older, she’ll see it too.
I grin at that thought and ring the doorbell at the Lockhart house. I frown when it takes a little too long for Heather to answer. I ring again, stepping back to look up at her window.
The light is on. I can see her moving around inside. I fold my arms over my chest and watch her shadow, waiting for her to move to answer the door. When she doesn’t I start to get worried.
“Yo, Heather,” I call up to the window.
I see her pause in her tracks. A couple of seconds tick pass, before she moves again. I scrunch up my face. Something is off.
It takes a few more minutes before she comes downstairs, instead of opening the window to answer me. I see why, when the door creeps open and she comes into view. I school my face, not letting my shock come through.
I’m speechless to be honest. All of that gorgeous hair is gone. I shift on my feet, as my cock twitches in my pants. Not the first time he has reacted to Heather like this, but I know if I stand here long enough I’m going to embarrass myself.
Heather has always been beautiful to me, but now. Fuck, she’s a knock out. There’s nothing to obstruct the soft plains and sharp angles of her face. Her cheekbones standout more and her eyes are on display in the most alluring way.
The sides of her hair are shaved really low and the front is cut short enough framing her forehead. The dark brown of her hair contrasts perfectly with her lighter brown skin. When her eyes lower to her feet, my breathing comes up short. The way her lashes sweep down and fan her cheeks is enough to have me hard as a rock.
Heather looks like a rock star. I know in the back of my mind, she’s done this as another one of her ways to hide, but that’s some bullshit. She will never be able to hide her beauty.
Heather reaches up, running her hand through the short waves in the front. “That bad, huh?” she murmurs.
“What?”
“It’s ugly,” Heather says.
I duck my head to see her lips trembling. A tear rolls down her cheek. I reach slowly to wipe the tear away. Looking behind me quickly, I move into the house, making Heather backup inside.
She looks up at me through wet lashes, as I close the door behind me. My chest aches and that familiar rage starts to build. I hate seeing Heather so vulnerable. When we were younger, before…Heather was badass.
My brothers and I looked at her like one of the guys. She was so fearless. Moment of truth, she was my hero when I was little. Now, I just want to be hers.
“Has that fucker been back around here bothering you again?” I ask.
She shakes her head and whispers. “No.”
I watch her fidget, tugging at her oversized t-shirt. This girl seriously has no idea how gorgeous she is. Heather could dress in a sack and still would shine like a diamond to me.
“Then why?” I ask, reaching to touch her short hair, but thinking better of it, I drop my hand.
She takes a shaky breath. “I have no idea,” she says sadly.
I press my lips, knowing that’s total bullshit. I move closer, wrapping my arms around her. My chest swells, when she sinks into me.
It’s that bond we have. I can feel it coursing in between us. I’ll always be here to give her a shoulder to cry on. I know deep down inside she knows that as well.
“Brax, is it really that bad?” she asks again.
“No, honestly, Heather. You’re still beautiful. If you ask me, even more now than before,” I whisper into her short hair.
She snorts. “I think we need to get you some glasses,” she mutters.
“You will always be beautiful to me. If I went blind and couldn’t see a thing, I would still see your beauty with my heart,” I reply.
Heather pulls back and looks up at me. I’ve never seen her blush like this before. It’s so pretty on her. It makes me blush as well.
“Damn, Brax,” she blinks at me a few times. I feel like she’s trying to see me clearly. Heather clears her throat. “What’s up? Did you need something?”
“Mom is looking for you. Your mom and dad are going to be working late. You’re having dinner with us tonight.”
She reaches up to touch her hair, seeming to think things over. I can tell she’s about to decline. I’m not letting her get away with it.
“Mom made apple pies,” I say with a grin.
I watch her eyes light up. Heather gives me a small nod, moving to put on her boots. Those things are ugly, but on Heather, she makes them work. She transforms anything that comes near her, into something amazing.
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” she says, looking up at me nervously.
I’ll kick my brothers’ asses if they make her feel bad. I swear, I will. Once she locks the door behind us, I wrap my arm around her shoulders.
“Heather,” I say just, as we get across the street.
“Yeah,” she looks up at me. “One day, I’m going to show you what I see, and when I do, you won’t be afraid or embarrass to see it too.”
Heather stops and just blinks at me. I drop my arm to my side, shrugging my shoulders. It’s just the way it is. One day, I’m going to show her how beautiful she is. One day, she won’t have to hide.
Heather
I watch after Braxton, still a bit stunned. A part of me wants to lump him in with all male attention, but my brain won’t seem to let me. When I look at Braxton, I always feel safe.
Yet, something about his words make me look at him differently. Not like in the potential boyfriend kind of way. Braxton is too young for me. I’m seventeen.
No, after his words, looking at Braxton makes me see my friend is growing up. Brax may even start dating soon. He’s a handsome kid. Those eyes, that smile, and if he talks to girls the way he’s talked to me tonight, he’ll have them all swooning.
Instead of hating his brief attention, I feel…I don’t know. I look down at my booted feet. My brows draw in, I reach for my hair.
You’re being silly, he’s a kid. This was a terrible decision. It looks horrible. You look like a boy. The voice in the back of my head tells me.
Licking my lips, I look up at the Black’s house. I take a deep breath. Inside those walls will be nothing but honesty. There isn’t one mouth in that house that’s not brutally honest.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumble to myself, starting after Braxton.
I can hear the guys, before I make it into the dining room to see them. There’s lots of laughter and teasing. Brax is waiting for me just outside of the entryway. When I reach him, he nods, reaching to squeeze my fingers.
I look up into his eyes and once again notice that something is changing in Braxton. He’s always been an old soul, but something else lays beneath the surface. I tilt my head almost instinctively.
I smile
when I find protectiveness resting in his depths. I squeeze his fingers back. I’d beat someone’s ass for Brax anytime. We speak the words silently, totally understanding each other.
Releasing each other’s hands, we step fully into the dining room. Everything stops, including my breathing. I look around the room at all the stunned faces.
I don’t think there’s one mouth that’s not open. I shift on my feet, trying not to reach for the hair that’s no longer hanging from my head. My chest squeezes painfully.
This would be the one time all the brothers are home at once. Both Wyatt and Noah are home for break. Yet, it’s Wyatt that breaks the ice.
His face breaks into a huge smile, his eyes sparkling. “Damn, Heather, that shit looks good on you,” he says, jump starting my heart again.
My fingers find my short hair, while my eyes dart around the room for everyone else’s reaction. The other’s still looked shocked, but Brax has a huge smile on his face. I go to sit between him and Noah.
“You good, Kid?” Noah leans in to ask me. His eyes narrowing in on me.
“Yeah,” I nod.
“Make sure you have my number before I fly out. You can call me anytime. I’m never too busy for my little sister,” Noah winks at me.
My heart squeezes painfully. I look around the table again and all of the guys are giving me the same look. I nod my head at them all. I hear them. If I need them, there here for me.
I look down at the plate before me. Things could be different this time. We’re all older. I don’t have to be so scared of Ernest and the guy I now know to be Eugene. I feel hope bloom in my chest.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Aunt Cass gasps, as she enters the dining room. “Heather?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper.
“Oh, Love. What have you done?” She stumbles into her seat. “Boys, take your dinner into the living room.”
No one dares to argue with Aunt Cass, all the guys fill their plates and start to move from the table. All except for one. Braxton fills his plate, but he starts to eat right where he’s seated.