23. Brayden

Chapter twenty-three

Brayden

I t's been a long time since I woke up feeling this happy. I went to bed with a smile on my face and had the best night's sleep in a while after receiving Mr. Stiles' message.

I'm aware that this group won't be the perfect solution, but it's a start and there will be people who can relate. They will understand the situation I'm in. They will be able to give me advice and connections. I hope.

What brings me the most happiness is having Mr. Stiles there for me, meaning I don't have to go through this alone.

I have an extra pep in my step as I prepare for classes today, grateful that I don't have one this morning. I'm excited to see Bexley and share the news about this group. I want to be transparent with him. I want him to know that I'm finding a way out for him. I'm getting him help. It's about time I returned the favor and took care of my twin, exactly as he did for me when we were younger.

Last night, I couldn't stop grinning after rereading Mr. Stiles' messages.

Before putting on my sweatshirt, I think twice about it and bring my phone up to face the mirror in my bathroom. I don't usually take a ton of selfies and post them, but I enjoy capturing moments when I'm feeling good. Just like now.

I flex my muscles, which are a lot more defined since I've been going to the gym more. With only my sweatpants on, I grin wide, letting my gray sweatpants hang low and snap a picture of my body and the top of my sweatpants. My smile is all you can see on my face, my nose and eyes, hidden under a low-hanging baseball cap. I posted it on my story with a caption that read:

it's going to be a good day

Because it is. I can feel it.

As I gaze at my reflection, a smug smile creeps onto my face because I posted that picture on my story for a specific reason. To hope that one particular man sees it.

I think I spoke too soon about it being a good day. It was unrealistic to expect that, of course. I've been in a heated argument with Bexley for the past half hour, attempting to discover the cause of his black eye and cut lip. I have a feeling I know who it is, but he's not willing to say.

"Just fucking tell me Bexley." As he gets dressed, I maneuver around him.

"It was a stupid bar fight. Forget about it."

"You can't lie for shit. Now tell me." He ignores me. Carrying on with getting ready.

"I came here with some good news to share with you. I was in a good mood before fucking coming here." I sigh, sitting on the end of the bed.

"Then go, I didn't ask you to come here, did I." I rear my head back, turning round, staring at him wide-eyed as he puts on his sweater.

"Sorry," he huffs. "I'm tired." Next to me, he sits down and reaches down the side of the bed, pulling out a Nerds Rope for himself and offering one to me. We both open it and start eating them. I have my preferred rainbow flavor while he has his preferred berry flavor.

"I'm going to a support group on Saturday," I rush out. I wanted to tell Bex and after the other night, I know he wants to help, but I don't really know how to approach it. The best way to handle this is to rip off the band aid and say it. "For those with a family member struggling with addiction." I take another bite of my Nerds Rope. He remains silent, and the awkwardness intensifies rapidly. I glance over and he stares straight ahead. "Bex?"

He continues to nod to himself, his gaze fixed on a specific spot on the floor. "I need out of here." My heart breaks as I listen to his raw, vulnerable voice.

"I know. I'm trying, I really am. I think this group is going to be a good start." He agrees by nodding.

"Where did you find it?"

"Ahh, through a friend." I don't know how to tell him a teacher is involved in this. Despite witnessing Mr. Stiles knocking out Karl, I don't believe he would be pleased.

I frown at Bexley, who continues to scratch at his arm. He seems considerably more agitated than his usual self.

"Hey." I lay my hand on his arm. "Fuck you're ice cold." His hand trembles slightly as he pushes my arm aside.

With a downcast expression and drooping shoulders, he sighs. "I'm tired. That's all."

"Bex, don't lie to me. What's happened?"

"I—I've." He sighs. "I'm trying to OK, Bray. I'm really trying."

"Hey, hey I know you are. Has something happened?" I scrutinize his appearance. He seems even more worn out than in his usual state. There's a noticeable shimmer of sweat clinging to his skin and he appears paler than usual.

"I've been trying to stop." With a shy demeanor, he glances in my direction. "The d-drugs," he stutters. My heart swells. He's never made an effort before. Am I finally going to get my brother back?

"This is great, Bex. Trying is everything, and you're doing just that!" I exclaim, pulling him in for a hug. He embraces me gently, encircling me with his arms and resting his chin on my shoulders.

"I let Karl know I was stopping, and the situation became heated." I'm quickly overwhelmed by searing anger.

I move away, observing his face. "I had a hunch that it was him who did this to you."

"I can't stop selling. I need the money, but Dax is holding on to the drugs for me, so I don't have it around me to be tempted." I embrace Bex tightly and plant a kiss on his head.

"You don't know how much this means to me, Bex."

"I can't promise, but I'm going to try." With a smile, he leans on my shoulder and whispers, "This is for us."

"BB for life," I mumble, my eyes fixed on the photo booth snapshot of us.

Good days are coming.

Not long after Bex fell asleep, I laid down next to him, not wanting to leave at that moment. However, I have a class coming up, so I get out of bed and lean down to give him a kiss on the forehead. He doesn't move. When I walk out into the hallway, I find my mother sitting on the sofa, her eyes dull and her body swaying as a result of her intoxication. She can't even keep her head still. It's one in the afternoon.

"Pathetic." I exit the trailer with a sneer on my face. As I close the door, I notice Karl sitting on a chair outside his trailer, smoking a cigarette and smirking at me.

"Kid!" he shouts. "Tell your brother I need him over here pronto." My resolve shatters at the same moment that he snaps his fingers. I storm over there and lean my hands down on the chair arms, caging Karl into the chair.

"Listen the fuck here, you fat piece of shit. My brother is done with you. He won't come here anymore, and I'll make certain of that. Stay the fuck away from my brother." As I'm about to straighten up, a sharp, excruciating pain shoots through my head, blurring my vision and causing me to land heavily on the ground. My sweater is grabbed before Karl is in my face.

"I own your brother. You be good to remember that, boy. The next time you lay hands on me, I won't beat you black and blue. I'll beat your brother black and blue." He releases his grip, causing me to stumble backward and my head to collide with the ground, intensifying my dizziness.

I raise myself on one elbow.

Fuck. My head.

"Shit, Brayden." Two arms embrace me and lift me off the ground. I grimace and hold my head, then shift my focus to Daxton on the left, who meets my stare. With his eyebrows furrowed, he forces a tight-lipped smile.

"I'm sorry." He sighs. Taking a quick glance at his trailer door, he redirects his attention toward me.

"Daxton, just make me one promise. Keep the drugs away from Bex. Please," I beg him.

"Daxton, get your fucking ass in here now and stop talking to that cunt!" Karl shouts from inside the trailer. Daxton winces and turns to walk toward the door.

Before he enters, he pauses and gazes at me. "I promise I won't, Bray." And I don't know why, but I believe him. Daxton has never really done anything; he was born into an unfortunate family. A bit like us.

Because of his father, he doesn't have a place where he fits in. No one at school likes him. He's a loner and his dad is notorious. How can I be friendly with him when his dad is part of the reason Bex is the way he is?