Page 51 of Reflections of Peonies
“Not particularly.” I touched my chin, studying him. Miles had a bodybuilder’s physique, so he looked formidable. Yet, he lacked the sincerity in wanting to murder his opponent. If I didn’t toughen him up, he’d be a target for the rest of his life.
He was so sweet, so kind.
I would bet anything that people took advantage of him. They either took advantage of his kindness or flat-out bullied him. This was how stalkers targeted sincere men. I hadn’t forgotten the women picking on him during soccer practice.
I would have to save him before something terrible happened. Before I needed to hurt someone again.
It was my job to help him.
“You should hang out with me while we’re at school. It’s safer that way.” I tapped my chin. “Then we can begin your training.”
“Safe from what? What training?” Miles didn’t sound amused or happy anymore. “Didn’t we already establish that you’re escorting me to my classes?”
I wasn’t sure yet. Maria might have some ideas; she was tough.
“We’ll see…” I noted his wary expression. “You’ll like it. Let’s do our homework together later, okay?”
Miles frowned, stubbornness bleeding into his face.
“I don’t want…” he began, but his words trailed off. The stubbornness gave way to contemplation. “You want to do homework together?”
Something in his voice caused my heart to skip.
“You’ll have French!” he sounded so happy. “We can email your professor to get your assignments.”
Crap on a cracker!
My breathing had caught in my throat. How was I supposed to tell Miles I was dropping French for Chinese? This was horrible. The only way to avoid hurting his feelings was to pretend to take French forever.
But there was a problem with that plan—I wasn’t getting out of doing any work this way.
“Okay…” I whispered, putting off the inevitable. One day, I might have to break the news to Miles. But his face was glowing in a way that caused my pulse to spike.
There was no way I could do it right now.
9
Brayden jumpedto his feet as Miles led me into the kitchen.
“Good morning!” he greeted as he bounded to my side, away from the sunny breakfast nook where he and Bryce had been conversing before my arrival. They were still wearing their pajamas, which made me feel less self-conscious about Titus’s boxers.
“How are you feeling?” Brayden asked, bouncing slightly as he stopped in front of me.
“Fine,” I answered, my voice almost a whisper. I clenched my fists as my shoulders tensed. Bryce—and Brayden, too—were my older brothers.
I wanted to ask them what they thought—what they knew. But I also didn’t want to know.
Did Bryce know who I was when I asked why my family didn’t want me? Did he think I sounded stupid?
Brayden raised his eyebrow at my response, and for a brief instant, his expression darkened as he glanced over me. But then he pushed his sleep-tossed curls from his face, rubbing his eyes. When he lowered his hands, the look vanished.
“What’s wrong, Bianca?” he asked, grabbing my hand. My attention drifted to where he held me; if I wasn’t mistaken, his hand was shaking, too.
So, even though my skin prickled, I didn’t pull away.
“Those don’t look like your clothes,” he said. “Bryce said you didn’t want anything from the Griers. Does that mean you need to go shopping?”
“Yes,” I replied, allowing him to guide me to the table. The bounce seemed to return to his step as we moved, and he led me to a seat between him and Bryce. Hopefully, he didn’t notice that I pulled my hand back into my lap when he let me go.
