Page 8 of Break Point

I shake my head, cutting her off.

“I need it now.”

Amelia flinches at my bluntness. Bryson steps up next to her, shaking his hair out like a wet dog, and the spray hits my cheeks.

“What’s up?” His glib response sets off my groan, and I roll my eyes.

“Jaden’s check got ruined. And I guess she needs it . . . now.” Amelia’s tone quiets for that last word, which makes me feel more ashamed.

“You got rent due, Crash?” Bryson says.

My gaze pops up to meet his mid-chuckle.

“Tuition. And it’s due, like, now.” I blink twice, and Bryson swallows down what was probably more out-of-touch commentary before dropping his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can get it before two at the earliest,” Amelia says.

I nod with a tight smile because that’s the only response I can think of. My mind is already writing the speech I’m going to give the registrar to bargain for one more grace period. I can’t ask my parents to charge one more thing. They’ve already leveraged the restaurant’s business credit to get me this far.

“What about the corporate card?” Bryson suggests.

His sister’s head snaps his direction, and there’s a brief but heavy silence between them. Bryson’s brow pulls in as his gaze narrows. The two of them glance at me, so I hold up a hand and back away to give them a moment. I can’t make out their conversation until Bryson utters, “He’ll never know.”

My guard goes up as Bryson pulls his wallet from his back pocket, and when he hands over a black credit card trimmed in gold, I push it away and shake my head.

“I don’t need you paying my bills. I’ll work something out,” I say, though the desperate voice inside of me is screaming for me to take the damn life raft.

Bryson grasps my hand and presses the credit card into my palm.

“It’s not mine. Now go pay your tuition.” His hands hold mine for a few extra seconds while I blink at his serious expression.

“He’s right,” Amelia confirms as Bryson’s touch disappears.

And that’s when I read the name inscribed on the card. Jacob Michael Moss. Their father.

“Bryson, I can’t—”

“You can,” he cuts in. His expression is adamant, and my fingers curl around the plastic as I start to give in.

“And you swear this is okay?” I glance to Amelia, and her gaze flits to her brother for a beat before she nods. I can tell she’s not entirely comfortable, but I’m honestly out of options.

“Thank you,” I say with a nod.

“I’ll go with you so they don’t give you any trouble,” Bryson says. I nod as he hands me my backpack, and I sludge my way forward.

Our steps quickly fall into sync as we head back onto campus. My phone buzzes in my palm with a message from his sister. I’m relieved to see it isn’t her texting to change her mind—about the credit card or about hiring me.

Amelia: Thought you would like to see my favorite. Do you approve?

I open the image to full screen and am instantly hit with several more pounds to the chest—heavier ones. And a second later, that weight is joined by a stiff arm across my body as Bryson stops me from stepping into traffic.

“You trying to live up to that nickname, Crash?” He chuckles as I clutch my phone to my chest behind his arm.

I manage to roll my eyes in response, keeping my anti–Bryson Moss force field in place, at least physically. But the second we start walking again, I sneak another look at the photo, really focusing on my own expression this time. Bryson is looking at me like I’m the only woman in the world in this photo, which isn’t a surprise because that’s his superpower. That’s what he does. Even if he doesn’t mean it. The problem is, I’m looking right back at him as if, well . . . as if I approve.

The question I have to ask myself is: Do I?

Chapter 4