“Think about it, Ponyboy,” Raven whispers. “You don’t get close to people, neither does she. She’s been alone, and you feel alone even when you’re not. Maybe that’s because deep down you feel something’s missing, something we can’t give you.” She stands with a shrug. “Maybe that something is her.”

“I told you to stop trying to convince yourself of something none of us, including Brielle, will ever be convinced of. I didn’t think a single soul would ever deserve to be loved by you, Royce Brayshaw, but now it’s so obvious it’s her. I know she will never want for anything in her life, she’ll never fear a soul, and she will never look back with regret,” she whispers. “Now get your ass up and go talk to that girl before Bass does something stupid we’ll be forced to kick his ass for, like tie her up and throw her in his car.”

My throat begins to clog. “And if she decides she wants to go with him?”

“Then you bare your broken boy soul to her and convince her otherwise. If that doesn’t work, we do the tying.” She lifts a shoulder. “Our town, our rules, right?”

I look to my brother who nods to Cap several yards away, keeping his eyes on the two who must still be near the porch and us tucked back here in the corner. He tips his chin.

I look to Raven and hold my hand out.

I don’t allow her to hold my weight, I know she’s still sore, but her grip is firm on mine.

She smirks. “Go on, Ponyboy. Show her what you’re made of.”

“Trust me, RaeRae,” I whisper. “She knows.”

Raven’s eyes dart to mine and then the three of us laugh.

We hop out, and toward the front of the house I go.

Ready or not, baby. Here I fucking come.

Chapter 34

Royce

With my keys in my hand, I run out the front door, and the sun punishes me for all the alcohol I’ve been drowning in, shocking and fogging my vision.

I squint, flopping a hand up to block the summer rays for a clearer look, and fuck me, I’m hit with every emotion all at once, my thoughts and vision coming back with a vengeance.

Brielle stands a few feet away, leaning against my ride all gorgeous and perfect-like with no makeup and tied back hair.

Something raw and deep burns in my gut, twisting and fucking turning.

Never in my life have I ever touched a girl harmfully.

I do all I can to protect people from shit like that, to hurt assholes who hurt others, especially girls, women.

This time I was the asshole. It’s my turn to hurt and goddamn if I’m not aching from the pain I’ve caused her, but it’s not enough.

I deserve so much worse, and Brielle...

Fuck man, Brielle.

I’ve met my fair share of people, and it’s rare to find someone who is both honest and loyal. To find someone who is those things and kind? Unjudging and just... more than you knew to exist?

That shit’s unheard of.

She deserves the fucking world.

A sad little smile curves those lips of hers and it serves as a cupid’s arrow through my chest, but the deadly one. The one with the red tip, coated in poison that eats away at your organs.

Baby girl... fuck.

I jog down the stairs and straight to her.

Her smile is soft and knowing, and she pushes off the side. “Took you long enough.”

“Tell me you’re not trying to leave.”

“I’m not trying to leave,” she whispers. “But you needed a little push to get you ahead in the game.”

I dart forward, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, my free hand coming up to the marking on her temple. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean... I can’t fucking believe...”

“I know.” She grips my wrist, pulling it to her mouth to kiss the edge of my tattoo there.

I dip, lifting her by the ass, holding her tiny body in my arms.

As if she’s meant to be right here, in my grasp, her legs need no leading, her arms no guidance, both wrapping around me for a better grasp. A stronger hold.

A fucking greedy grip.

As I stare at her, I’m overcome by the shit I caused, and my chin falls to my chest, but my baby, she doesn’t allow it.

She does what I do to her, using her knuckles to force my eyes to hers. “Yeah,” she whispers. “You were a complete ass to me, and in front of everyone.”

My ribs ache and I squeeze her tighter. “I can’t believe I did this to you.” My hand goes back to the bruising on her face. “I never wanted to hurt you, and the shit I said to you.” My voice cracks. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

“I know,” she rasps.

“I’m a bastard.”

“And I’m going blind.”

My eyes fly to hers, my organs seizing.

“Baby...” I shake my head, everything inside me aching for the gorgeous girl in my arms.

She offers a small smile, but it does nothing.

She told me this the other night, my brother confirmed it in his words earlier, but I didn’t allow her to explain, refused to hear what she was trying to tell me, blocked her out when she was being vulnerable and sharing her best-kept secret in a room full of assholes.

I was too busy trying to run her off, like a dumbass who convinced himself that what we had wasn’t far too strong for such a fucking move.

It is.

So much stronger.

Standing here, I’ve never been so desperate or terrified to understand something before. I need to know every little thing, so I wait for her to give me more.

Her fingertips find my chest. “Slide your hand into my hair, where I do, and tell me what you feel.”

I gently spin her, placing her on the front hood in front of me, but she keeps her legs locked tight around my torso.

My grip flexes against her, but my need to know why she asked has me doing exactly what she wanted.

My fingers, though, they find the spot I marked her with first, and she tries not to flinch but fails and my heart jolts with her.

“Baby—”

“Glide your hand back farther.” She nods her encouragement.

I do, my body trembling with more than I can name when the pads of my fingers skate across slightly raised skin. I move her hair aside, and she tips her head, granting me a better look at the scar.

It’s at a slight angle and spans maybe three inches. It’s not very wide, and isn’t raised all that much, but it’s there.

“Tell me what happened,” I murmur.

“My dad tried to kill me, and I tried to let him,” she admits.

My eyes slide to hers and my body slumps into hers.

“If Bass hadn’t gotten home when he did, he would have. My brother jumped in front of me. The bullet shot across the side of my head and wedged into the muscle of his shoulder. He fell back, and my dad came forward. He hit me with the barrel, three times is all I remember, but I was told it was five.”

I clench my teeth, flexing my jaw as I stare at the most perfect fucking thing I’ve ever seen, touched. Been in the fucking presence of.

Hurt by a man she should have been able to trust.

By a man who was supposed to love her.

And by me, a man who does.

Fuck.

“He cracked my skull. I was in the hospital for a few weeks, couldn’t see at all for the first nine days,” she admits. “I have optic nerve damage and it will never go away. It causes blind spells. We learned that when my anxiety is high, or I get worried or scared or emotionally overloaded, it happens. My blood pumps too quickly, inflaming the eye, and I lose clarity... or sight completely.”