Wrong For Me

by Meagan Brandy

  I had a hand in this.

  “Rowan Daniels,” Oakley speaks into the microphone, getting all choked up as she calls my brother, her best friend, up to the stage to get his hard-earned title.

  Rowan made Blaze … just like I knew he would.

  Sure, I gave him a hard time, but he needed the push.

  He was wrong in a way when he said I only came back for Oakley.

  When I came back, it was to be here and protect her, but I never knew when I’d get the call to come home.

  I had planned, or more hoped, to get my ass back here while he was in the program. I knew he’d take my presence as a threat, and I intended to use it to my advantage. My simply being here drove him to work harder. Would he have made it if I hadn’t been here at all? Yes. But not as the runner-up for the top of the class in all categories.

  Oakley steps out from behind the little podium, and Rowan stops in front of her.

  He stares down at her as she stares up at him and—

  A firm hand hits my shoulder, making my eyes slice left.

  Trick frowns at me, and I frown right back.

  “Keep your feet where they are, Daniels,” he speaks low and through his teeth, so nobody else can hear. “You give them this thirty-five seconds, and then you can alpha out all you want.”

  My brows snap together, and I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but then Rowan is in front of me.

  I cut my glance to Oakley, and she grins.

  Clearing my throat, I reach a hand out, and Rowan slowly slides his in mine, his scowl hitting mine before he grins and yanks me into a quick half-hug.

  He chuckles, shakes his arms out, and smooths out his Blackline before standing tall, his eyes clear and full of nothing but respect and gratitude as he shifts to stand in front of Trick.

  He tips his chin. “Sir.”

  “Son.” Trick eyes him a moment before he continues, “I offered you this spot, and you turned me down.”

  Rowan stands taller, nodding in agreement.

  “You plan to turn me down this time?”

  Rowan grins. “No, sir.”

  “Good. ’Cause you earned it before, but you’ve demanded it now.” Trick steps forward and places the gold Blaze pin on Rowan’s jacket, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Now, shut up and get back in line before that baby wakes up.”

  I grin and look to my baby girl. She is sleeping soundly in my mother’s arms, who is smiling, staring up at her sons. Evie might be only a couple of months old, but she knows her uncle’s voice, and every damn time he speaks near her, she hears him and demands his arms—unless it’s me holding her. Then, she’s just fine where she is. But he’s good with her.

  My eyes are pulled back to Rowan when he chuckles lightly and moves back to the line, but my brows pull in when he stops in front of Gio, who grins and reaches out to straighten Rowan’s pin. Then, he moves over from him to squeeze beside him instead of going back to where he stepped from.

  My stare finds Oakley’s, and she winks before calling on the next recruit.

  All in all, the graduation lasts only about forty-five minutes. Then, everyone is dismissed, and families get together for pictures, but I slip from the group and steal my daughter from my mother’s arms so she can enjoy this moment with her youngest son.

  I leave the gym and head out back and around the corner, lowering the two of us onto the grass.

  With a deep breath, I close my eyes, enjoying the perfect spring weather.

  It’s been just shy of a year since I almost lost Oakley and our daughter at the hands of my own mistake, and the reality of it hasn’t gotten any easier to live with.

  I look at my daughter, wrapped in a Blackline academy blanket her grandpa had specially made for her, little pink socks poking out the end.

  One day, she’ll grow up and hear the story of how her uncle saved her little life. A story of how strong her mama was and how hard she fought. And what will she think of me when she does?

  All I ever wanted was to love Oakley, and in my selfish need to have her right then, before we were ready for each other, I almost lost them both.

  And I can’t find a way to forgive myself for that, but maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe it’s the fear that’ll serve as a reminder of how trust and love and honesty are what build a strong family.

  Relationships are so much more than simply loving someone.

  I was selfish, and that’s a mistake I haven’t made since, one I’ll never make again.

  I’ll put them above everything. Every move I make will be with them in mind, and Oakley will be a part of every decision, no matter what. Losing her … hurting her is a risk I’ll never take again. It’s opened a healless wound.

  The pain from my choices never goes away, and the fear of retaliation from the Murphy family and their followers never lessens, both things keeping me awake most nights.

  I know for a fact that I don’t deserve the life I’m living.

  I don’t deserve such a beautiful, strong woman who can fight her own battles but chooses to have me beside her to help should she need it.

  I don’t deserve this little girl looking up at me with big, innocent blue eyes, content just being in my arms.

  I’ll never deserve what Oakley’s given me. But I’ll take it and thank her for it every day.

  I think the reminder of what I’ve done is a punishment of sorts, something I’m supposed to live with for the gifts I’ve been given. And it’s one I’ll gladly bear.

  For my girls.

  I run my fingertips across Evie’s temple, and she flings her little arms out, gripping on to my Blackline.

  She smiles and starts kicking her tiny feet.

  “Did you have a good nap, princess?”

  I tickle her belly, and she squirms, her hands patting against her blanket.

  “Gone for ten minutes, and already, she’s stolen my title?”

  I whip around with a grin, finding Oakley headed for us, a slice of cake in her hands.

  My eyes follow her as she comes near, and my chest tightens.

  She sees it and knows my struggles.

  She smiles softly and drops beside us.

  Neither of us says anything, but both of us stare at our daughter, watching as she pulls her blanket into her mouth and rubs it against her face.

  Oakley takes a bite of cake and then offers me one. So, I open my mouth, and she laughs, sliding the fork in.

  “Good?” She raises a brow, and I grin, nodding.

  I slip off my jacket and lay it out on the grass. Then, I gently lay Evie down on it.

  Oakley squeals when my tight grip finds her hips. I lift my woman, placing her between my legs so I can wrap my arms around her.

  She sighs and leans into me, and I imagine her eyes are closed, just as mine are.

  After a few minutes, she says, “I like chocolate cake better than this vanilla crap,” making me chuckle.

  “I know you do.” I kiss her temple and playfully nip at her ear, making her laugh.

  “Then, you know I want chocolate cake at our party.”

  I bury my nose in her hair, letting her scent infuse every inch of me. “What party is that, baby?”

  She hesitates a moment. “You know … our reception party. After our wedding.”

  Every muscle in my body locks.

  Never have we talked about this. Not fucking once has either of us dared to mention marriage after everything. I’ve thought it a thousand times. I would damn near kill to claim her in the last way possible by uniting us completely. All three of us. But I never thought she’d want my name after I gave it to someone else who hadn’t earned it.

  Our wedding.

  Me and her.

  She said it.

  To marry Oakley would … I have no words.

  “Baby …” I think makes it past my lips, my arms dropping like dead weight to the grass.

  She spins slowly, sitting
on her knees in front of me. My beautiful girl smiles softly, a hint of bashfulness brightening up her cheeks, something I haven’t seen from her before but damn sure want to see again.

  “We had a rough start, did everything wrong in the beginning. I used to wish it away but not anymore.” She shifts, her chin lifting higher, her confidence now shining bright in her blue eyes. “We’re stronger now, unbreakable if you ask me.”

  Harsh breaths are forced past my ribs as my eyes shift between hers.

  “From the beginning, you told me to be bold, to be brave, and to take what I wanted.”

  “What are you saying to me, princess?” I whisper.

  Her hands find my shoulders and slowly glide up my neck, her fingers sliding in my hair.

  “I want what’s mine, Alec,” she fucking purrs against my lips, her eyes hitting mine hard and with more resolve than I can handle.

  She’s never been surer. I feel it in the way she’s staring.

  Every inch of me belongs to her, and she damn well knows it, but there’s still one last thing I can give her that she doesn’t already have.

  And my baby wants it.

  Her eyes drop, and mine follow, finding my fingertips digging into the soft skin of her thigh. Her hand comes down to tease across it, and a husky chuckle leaves her when mine twitches.

  “Baby …”

  She’s slow to look at me, but when she does, there’s nothing but pure devotion and need shining back.

  “You want my name?”

  Her hands move to rest on my chest, her palm spreading across my heart so that she can feel how hard it’s beating for her. She seals her lips with mine, kissing me slow and pulling away too fast.

  “I want your all, Alec.”

  I groan and lean in, but she tugs back with a grin.

  “And I don’t wanna wait either.”

  “Whatever you want, baby.”

  “That’s exactly what I told them you’d say,” she whispers. Then, she jumps off me before I can stop her, giggling as she walks backward toward the building. “Grab our daughter, Mr. Daniels. Our families are waiting.”

  My brows pull in, and I look from my baby girl to her mama. “Waiting?”

  “Bags are packed, cars are loaded, and all our rooms are booked.” She smiles big, bright, and damn blinding. “We’re heading to Vegas. And you’re marrying me tonight.”

  And then she’s gone, and I’m stuck like stone, staring at nothing.

  Tonight. My girl will be my wife … tonight. I’ve never felt the power behind the title, but thinking of Oakley holding the crown is enough to undo me.

  My fucking wife.

  Evie’s cry pulls me out of it, and I hop to my feet, swooping her up quickly and kissing her chubby cheek.

  “Guess what, baby girl?” I lift her in the air, and she smiles down at me, her little hands in her mouth. “You’ll be the only princess now.” I pull her in, shaking my head as I grab my jacket off the ground and rush for the building. “Daddy’s finally crowning his queen.”

  Note from the Author

  Holy shit!! What a ride!

  This book was extremely scary for me to put into your hands. I know it’s different. I know it pushes you. I know it forces you to take a deep breath and trust that in the end it’ll all work out and I hope you felt it. THANK YOU for trusting me! I hope you loved Alec and Oakley’s story as much as I did!

  Want more from this gang?

  You’re in luck! They play a part in my newest series!

  You don’t see them until book two, but here is a sneak at book one! If you LOVE a strong female THIS is for you!

  Keep turning the page for more books and ways to connect with me directly!

  Boys of Brayshaw High

  "Girls like you aren't exactly welcomed at a place like this, so keep your head down and look the other way."

  Those were the exact words of my social worker when she dropped me in my newest hellhole, a place for "troubled teens".

  I didn't listen, and now I'm on their radar.

  They expect me to play along in their games of hierarchy, to fall in line in the social order they've deemed me fit.

  Too bad for them, I don't follow rules.

  Too bad for me, they're determined to make sure I do.

  Inconceivably attractive and treated like kings...these are the boys of Brayshaw High.

  And I'm the girl who got in their way.

  - Read Chapter one now:

  Walk away.

  Move your feet, exit this piece of shit cafeteria, and go get high. Chill out.

  Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

  I keep walking, and I’m almost free and clear, almost through the door and away from the trouble I surely don’t need but can’t seem to escape.

  But of course, nothing in my life is simple and just before my left foot joins my right, the final step through the open door, the bitch decides she’s not done and runs her mouth. Again.

  “Maybe if she wasn’t such a slut her whore mom wouldn’t have kicked her out for sleeping with her new man.”

  The laughter echoes, growing louder until it wraps around my throat like my mother’s hands when in a fit, choking me until I lose focus.

  I stop where I stand.

  My eyes haze, rage winning over the calm bravado I attempted to force myself into.

  “Trailer trash, bitch.”

  More laughs.

  And there it is, the push.

  Why do they always push?

  Before anyone can stop me, not that there’s anyone who would give a shit, I snatch the closest tray off the nearest table and in one swift move, one hard, full swing, smash it across the side of her face.

  The cheap red plastic breaks against her head and screams ring around me.

  Blood pours from the big mouthed bitch’s forehead and she shrieks, her horrified gaze flying to mine. I wait until our stares connect, then quickly kick her chair sideways. Panic grows in her eyes as she crashes to the floor.

  There’s no time to escape, not that I have anywhere to go.

  People scream, but no one dares to step closer to me. The lunch lady calls for help and everyone rushes to the side of the asshole on the floor because she’s ‘the victim.’ Sure, I got physical first, but she started it. What did she expect?

  If you can’t take it, don’t dish it.

  And, yeah, the spat wasn’t a lie, my mother is a whore. The dirtiest of dirty. Straight trailer trash at its finest, I’ll admit it all day.

  But she doesn’t get to say it.

  And I sure as shit couldn’t let her get away with disrespecting me the way she did, publicly.

  Not sure how she managed it, but my mother, the failure she is, taught me one thing - to keep my pride above all else.

  Apparently, that’s all a girl like me can control.

  So disrespect me not.

  “My office! Now!” Principal Folk screeches. He doesn’t call me by name, doesn’t look my way, but why would he? Here I stand, caught red-handed - literally still holding half of the tray in my hand - as always.

  He probably knew it was me the second someone called for help, before even walking in here.

  I toss the tray to the floor and head straight to my home away from home - the cheap wooden chair with a ripped-up burgundy center that sits directly across from the principal’s desk.

  Monday was, as he warned, my “last strike,” but yesterday I got caught smoking behind the gym, and I’m still here. Today’s Thursday.

  Wonder if he’s in another forgiving mood?

  I’m guessing not when forty-five minutes later he charges in and slams himself into the seat, glaring at me through his little nerd glasses.

  His anger probably has something to do with the loud mouth girl – who very well may still be bleeding all over the stark white cafeteria floor – being his niece.

  My fucking bad.

  His eyes narrow as he judges me and my too-tight top and ripped-up jeans.

  So I
smirk, taunt him a bit.

  Because there’s nothing this guy could say or do that could possibly be as fucked as every other day in my reality.

  I grab the edge of the chair and lean forward. “Give it to me, Mr. Folk.”

  His eyes widen a fraction of an inch and as if he can’t help himself, quickly cut to my top.

  Men, they have no self-control.

  Well look at that, another thing learned from my mother.

  “Clearly you don’t want to be here, Ms. Carver. Every time I issue a warning you come back twice as hard.”

  When a slow grin stretches across my face, he clears his throat and looks away.

  “This is your third high school in eighteen months and honestly, you’re lucky you lasted here so long.”

  “Am I… Mr. Folk?” I drop back against the seat. “You sure you’re not—”

  “Stop.” He glares before sighing. “This is serious. You’ve got the entire school’s attention now. I can’t make this go away.”

  I roll my eyes. “Just get on with it already. Where to next?”

  He eyes me a moment before folding his hands and leaning forward against the desk. “I made a call.”

  My eyes slice to his.

  “Your social worker—”

  “I don’t have a social worker.”

  “Apparently you do. She contacted me a few months back and—”

  “Months?”

  “Raven, listen—”

  Right then, the secretary ushers in some dark-haired lady wearing slacks and a button-down. She reaches over the desk to shake the principal’s hand.

  “Mr. Folk, I’m Maria Vega.”

  “Ms. Vega, I appreciate you coming so quickly.” He turns to me as does she.

  “Hey there.” She gives a fake hello, her roaming eyes and tight-lipped smile more curious than anything. “Do you mind if we talk for a bit?”

  I don’t bother speaking. No matter what I do or don’t say here, she’s already got me figured out as far as she’s concerned.

  “Mr. Folk and I have been in contact over the last semester. He’s briefed me on your home situation and past issues, and at this time, we think it’s best you be removed from your mother’s care.”

  A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. ‘My mother’s care’ she says. Please.