Out of My Mind (COMPLETED)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mia's POV

I caught the tail end of Brayden's conversation with Monique. We'll be there soon? What the hell does he mean "we?" Where are we going? Why are we going anywhere?

Curiosity—and maybe frustration—causes me to knock on his closed bedroom door. Seconds later, Brayden is opening the door with bloodshot eyes. As if I wasn't already a mess...

"You okay?" I ask softly.

Brayden steps aside, pulling the door open further to let me walk in. I step into the room, spinning around to face him when I reach the end of his bed. The door clicks as Brayden shuts it.

A deep breath fills his lungs. "Do I look okay to you?"

Guess you could say I'm not good at comfort.

"You look as cute as ever," I say, cheekily. Brayden doesn't laugh or even smile. Maybe I'm worse than I thought.

I take a step toward him. "I'm here for you, you know that, right?" From where I'm standing in front of him, he has to look down at me, but he doesn't. He looks between his bed and the floor. I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him against me, but I don't want to smother him.

"Yeah, I know," he says, dismissively.

Not sure what to say, I stand there watching his eyes flit from the bed to the ceiling to the desk beside him. Everywhere but me.

"I don't want to say 'I'm sorry' because I have absolutely no idea how much pain you're going through. I can only imagine what it feels like to lose a parent." I bite my lip as his eyes go from a dull blue to a blazing deep blue, fixating on me.

"He wasn't even my father, Mia!" He shouts in my face. "I never knew my own father. Ala—" His voice breaks as he starts to say his name and so does my heart. "He was the closest thing I had to a father."

Brayden doesn't even know his own father. Why would he not tell me Alastair wasn't even his real dad?

My hand hesitantly reaches up to caress his face, which I hadn't noticed has begun to grow some facial hair. Jesus, I'm done for.

"I didn't know, Bray. I'm sorry," I apologize. Dropping my hand away from his cheek, I wrap my arms around his torso and rest my head on his chest. I try not to let the fact that he doesn't hug me back get to me too much. He's just dealing with the grief, I remind myself.

When I've decided he's not going to hug me back, I let go and take two steps back. His eyes are no longer on me and they aren't blazing anymore; they're back to the dull blue. I need to do something. I can't let him keep everything inside.

"Do you have a punching bag?" I blurt before I realize what I'm saying. Brayden slowly looks up at me with squinted eyes.

"Where would I have a punching bag if I had one, Mia?"

I look at him through squinted eyes now. "How the hell are you that ripped then?" I gesture to his bulging biceps and the prominent abs that we both know are underneath his t-shirt.

Brayden looks away from me for a split second before clearing his throat. "Dad trained me."

"With?"

"His body."

"You guys just beat the crap out of each other?" Who the hell even does that?

Brayden cracks a smile. "Hell yeah. Punching bags are nothing like human bodies."

I let out a low whistle. "Wow."

"Yeah." Brayden shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, reminding me of the first day I met him. We've come so far in such a short amount of time.