Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

11. RJ

Chapter 11

RJ

W atching Clara’s face crumple has to be the worst thing I’ve seen in a long, long time.

“You mean, after all that, he’s just free to walk?” she asks, tears pooling in those dark eyes of hers, not falling, but wavering with every word.

My nails threaten to cut through the back of the chair, and I force my hands to relax. “No. I won’t let him. The monster doesn’t deserve that freedom. He’ll fuck up again. It’s just a matter of time before he’s back behind bars. And I plan to be the dog nipping at his heels to force him into that cage.”

“If he fucks up and gets caught, that means some other girl gets hurt.”

My heart swells knowing this woman wants to protect an unknown victim, some nameless, faceless future problem. But that girl isn’t my priority. Clara is. “I’ve already set sniffers to track his incoming and outgoing data. He has a new computer, but I left a back door in his router, so I could still access his network. The photo is from his new phone, which I now have access to. There were others from other days, too. He’s been watching since three days after they cut him loose.”

Clara shudders and Trips curses. Jansen and Walker fold themselves around our girl, as if their bodies could shield her from her crazy ex. An ex we thought we’d already dealt with. An ex who’s getting a slap on the wrist so the cops can find bigger game to mount on the wall of their proverbial hunting lodge. Never mind the girl whose life he nearly ruined.

“At least he doesn’t get to be a doctor,” Jansen says, trying and failing to make this better.

A flash of the asshole’s face when I dislocated his thumb slips into my mind. If I’d known then what he’d done to Clara? If I’d felt the way about her then like I do now, I would have broken both of his shin bones in warning instead. I’d like to see him try to hunt her when he can’t even walk.

Trips’ hand falls heavy on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’ve done what you can. Go take a minute. Cool down.”

His eyes tell me he remembers the last time someone I loved was put in a bad spot. One glance at Jansen tells me he remembers the same. I rub the back of my neck, wishing they didn’t know this side of me. The one that rarely has a reason to surface.

The part of me that removes emotion and morals from the equation, leaving only logic and obsession.

“Right. Yeah,” I say, turning away from everyone, off to double-check that I have every digital angle of the monster ex under lockdown .

A small hand slips into mine halfway up the stairs as Clara rushes in front of me, nearly tripping over a box of shit Walker bought for New Year’s Eve. “If you want me to, I can keep you company,” she says.

“I’m not sure I’m good company right now, sugar.” God. I don’t want to say that. I don’t want to be this person for her. Even if she needs it, she shouldn’t have to see it.

“I can just, I don’t know, sit there. Be with you. Be there for you,” she says, trailing me into my room.

My phone buzzes, and I pluck it from my pocket, needing space to build up the barrier of cool logic, to separate myself from all feelings, all sentimental bullshit until I know she’s safe.

She deserves emotions, not some vengeful automaton.

I can’t be that for her right now.

And trying to be that when I need to keep her safe will overwhelm me. I’ve learned my limits. I stay within them. Otherwise, I shut down, and then, I’m alone. All alone. So instead, I focus on the burn in my chest. I have a checklist to review, alerts to verify, steps to follow, processes built to keep her safe.

The ID on the phone lights up. Trish. An out. “It’s my sister. I’ve got to take this,” I say, knowing my sister will be less upset than Clara if all I do is make vague affirmative noises while she talks.

Clara tugs on her sleeves, the bottom of her shirt, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from pulling her against my chest, hugging her, kissing her, losing myself in her. But not yet. She needs to be protected from Bryce.

Protected from the person I have to be to get this done .

“Oh. Okay. I’ll check back in a bit then, okay?”

“Sounds good, sugar.”

She steps past me, and I wait for her to turn back, to insist on coming with me, but after a moment, she continues down, leaving me staring after her.

It’s what I need. She deserves more than the person I am right now. But when she leaves, the space echoes without her presence. I need to fix this. And quick.

I’ve been so lost in my head, lost in her, that I’ve missed Trish’s call. For a second, I consider not calling her back, but I will not make myself a liar on top of an emotionally avoidant robot.

I close the door to my room as she answers. “Oh my God, RJ, Mama’s driving me nuts. I need a rescue. ”

“What kind of rescue?” I ask, falling into my chair while verifying I haven’t missed any alerts.

“Can I come over to your place? I’ll tell Mama I’m doing your hair. Hell, I’ll even do it. You’re overdue for a protective style, anyway.”

I grimace. “Now’s not a good time, Trish.”

“Really? You’re going to tell me you’re not sitting alone in your room in front of your computer right now?”

“Well, yeah, but I have plans.”

“What plans, RJ?”

The silence is long. “I have a date.” With the hard drive of my girlfriend’s monster ex.

“RJ, it’s already six. Unless you’re taking a girl for a midnight showing of something, you’re not going anywhere. Also, that was the worst lie ever. I know you’re not dating anyone.”

I am. Only, she’s also dating two of my roommates.

Yeah, that’s not going to go over well.

I wait too long to say anything, and Trish pulls the phone away from her mouth so I can hear Mama in the background. “No, Trish, seriously, I don’t think tonight will work,” I yell into the phone.

“Yeah, Mama. I’ll be safe. And I’ll be back by midnight. I am an adult now, though. Curfew is a choice.”

My mama’s tone rises, and I hang up.

Trish is coming whether or not I want her to. After Mama’s done chewing her out, of course.

Jansen’s the one who lets Trish into my room, the green of his eyes dark as he gives me the closest thing to a glare I’ve ever seen from him. I did exactly what I was trying not to do. I hurt Clara. Damn it.

Trish shoves his shoulder. “Don’t look at him like that. I invited myself over. Go enjoy your movie. We might be down if I can get this lump away from his screens.”

Jansen flashes her a smile, one for me obviously absent. “Good luck with that. He’s a man on a mission today.”

With that, the door clicks shut, just Trish and me left in my room. She switches on the overhead light, and I blink at the mess I hadn’t seen with the lights off. “You’re a slob, Royal Justice. Pops would whoop your ass if he saw this place.”

“Like hell he would,” I growl, the anger so close to the surface I can’t hide it.

Trish blinks at me. “Are you actually mad? At Pops? At me ? ”

The edge is there, the anger boiling, threatening to melt out and overwhelm me. Not now , I beg myself. I have too many people counting on me right now. Losing an hour would be hard; losing days would be catastrophic. I throw myself from my chair and start tossing my laundry into my basket. “No,” I force out in answer to her question.

Trish plops into my chair, kicking it in a circle. “Right. Sure.” When I don’t respond, she pulls up to my desk to look over my monitors. “Who’s this Bryce guy?”

Sure enough, one of his socials is up so I could double-check that I was scraping the right info for my newly named Bryce Alert System, B.A.S. for short. I’ll be pushing it out to Clara’s phone as soon as I’m done. “He’s nobody.”

“Then why do you have…seven tabs open to the guy?”

I bundle up the last of my laundry and chuck it into the closet. “Leave it, Trish. It doesn’t concern you.”

“Damn. Calm yourself.”

I fold myself onto my bed, head in my hands. “You’re right. Sorry. Tonight really wasn’t a good night, Trish.”

“I see that. Anything I can help with?”

“Not unless you’ve suddenly learned how to program social media scrapers.”

“Nope. But I am thinking of starting a YouTube channel.”

A laugh burbles up. “Really? Aren’t you busy enough already, Ms. College Freshman?”

“Probably. But I have a lot to say, and I’m bored trying to get you or Jade to have real conversations with me.”

“We have real conversations. And you have to be careful online. Those creeps are more dangerous than you realize. ”

“I know how to stay safe on the internet, bossy brother man. And last night, both you and Jade just smiled and nodded when I brought up the way Hollywood views Black women. That’s not a conversation, RJ. But let’s leave it. I don’t want to fight. What are we doing with your hair?”

I shrug, letting her switch topics to whatever will get her out of here the fastest. “What can you get done in less than an hour?”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” She motions to the ground, so I grab all my pillows and set myself up in front of her as she pulls out the comb of exacting death and gets to work.

“You washed this morning, right?”

“Yeah. All dry by now.”

We sit in silence for a while before she lets out a long exhale. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Whatever has you sitting in the dark, glaring at your computer while all your roommates are watching a movie downstairs?”

“No. Not really.”

She waits.

I relent.

“It’s my roommate, Clara. She has this stalker, and he’s escalating. I’m trying to keep her safe.”

The comb slides down my scalp twice before she speaks again. “Does she know you have a crush on her?”

I close my eyes. “Yeah.”

Her hands tremble in excitement for a second before she goes back to oiling and dividing my hair. “And? ”

“And it’s complicated.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you never actually talked to her until you blurted out you liked her.”

I huff out an almost laugh, keeping my head from moving. “No. We talk. She likes me too. But, God, I don’t know if I can explain what’s going on without it being super weird. And I want you to like her.”

“Ominous.”

“It’s not like that. She’s amazing, Trish. Smart and driven and quick on her feet. She feels big but thinks big too. She’s, I don’t know, she’s just, she’s exactly what I didn’t know I needed.”

“But you’re not dating her?”

“I am.”

Her squeal ricochets in the small space and I try not to cringe and mess up whatever she’s doing. “Oh my God! I’m so excited for you! This is so big. So so so big. You’re dating someone. An actual, real, in-person human. Really, RJ, I’m struggling to see where the ‘it’s complicated’ comes into play.”

I resist squirming. “You don’t need to know the details.”

“RJ, I’m not some kid anymore. You can’t pull the big brother card forever.”

“Try me.”

She thumps the back of my head lightly, a partial braid tight in her other hand. “Keep that up and I’ll make it all lopsided. I bet that would make things complicated for your girl.”

Chuckling, I rub my middle fingers down the seams of my pants. “There are just some things I don’t want to share with my sister, Trish. ”

“Ew. If this is some sex problem, you’re right. I’m not on board with hearing about that.”

That’s close enough to the truth that I don’t want to correct her. She finishes the left side of my head in blessed silence. “Break?” she asks.

“Yeah. You went with box braids?”

“I’m not here to fix your hair every few weeks this winter. Jade still can’t part in a straight line to save her soul. And we both know Mama would try to shave your head if you let her near it. So this way, you can just rebraid when you need to. Or I guess your girl Clara can help.” Trish pushes my shoulder with a grin, and I roll off the pillows and to my feet, shaking out my nearly numb limbs.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll pay someone to do it.”

“Like you could afford something as nice as what I do for free. Unless you’re secretly a millionaire.”

“Nah. Not a millionaire.”

“Just a nerdy kid with a full ride to college. What are the odds we’d both get full rides?”

Nope, not that line of questioning. Time to redirect. “I’m running to the bathroom, then we can finish up.” I rush out of my room, my head feeling breezy and weird on one side.

Returning, I find an empty room. Wary, I inch down the steps, only to stop halfway down, where my sister is talking Clara into coming upstairs with us.

“He can fix his front braids okay, but he’ll need help in the back. I can teach you. It’ll be fun.”

Clara freezes halfway up the stairs, and I see the laugh trying to escape her.

“I know I look a fool. I’m only half done,” I gripe, leading the way to my room.