I walked into my house, my keys dangling from my fingers, with Brayden trailing behind me. "Mom?"
“I'm in the kitchen, love,” she yelled back, and I made my way in that direction, dropping my bag at the end of the hall before making a left turn into the kitchen. She turned around at the sound of our footsteps, her eyebrows shooting up at the sight of Brayden. “Boy. You have a boy with you. I was starting to think you were gay. And he's not bad to look at either, nicely done. Just like your mom...your father was a hunk before he went-”
“Mom!” I interrupted before she started telling us about the position she'd been in when I was conceived. It was one of her favorite stories to tell. “This is Brayden,” I turned to Brayden, “this is my mom...or so I'm told. I'm still waiting for the day some nice, normal family claims me.”
“Yeah, I told you already they came by years ago, and I told them to fuck off,” my mom replied with a grin, before turning to Brayden, her hand outstretched. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Brayden.”
“Brady,” he immediately corrected. What was with the guy and his name?
Taking her hand in his, he gave her a big grin, making her grin back just as enthusiastically. “Okay, Brady it is.”
He nodded, satisfied, his grin growing.
“Holy shit, that must have hurt,” my mom said with a wince, staring at the blue and purple ring starting to darken around Brayden's eye. “What happened?”
“Some idiot wasn't taught how to handle losing,” he replied, nonchalantly, shrugging a shoulder, “so I gave 'em a lesson. He managed to get a shot in.”
“So you just beat the shit out of some kid because he was a sore loser?” I shook my head, amused, and headed over to the refrigerator.
"I don't like sore losers," he replied, shrugging.
"Most people don't, they also don't like assholes," mom answered, raising an eyebrow, a smirk on her face. I watched Brayden slowly smile, a short laugh leaving his lips.
"Assholes are at least fun, sore losers are just really a nuisance, don't you think?" he replied, crossing his arms over his chest, a challenging gleam in his blue eyes.
"Nah, some assholes are just assholes, but you I like," my mom replied, shaking her head with a chuckle. "So what exactly are your intentions with my kid? I don't know if I like her hanging around an asshole, as much as I find him entertaining."
"I could lie, and tell you that we're just friends, but you've seen your daughter," Brayden immediately replied, calmly, his demeanor that of a person ordering their food at a restaurant.
"I have. I've also seen her handle a knife," my mom answered, raising an eyebrow, warningly. "Just so you know, I taught her every trick she knows, so I wouldn't try any funny business."
"So I have you to thank for my sudden weird concupiscence to girls with sharp objects?" Brayden replied, making my mom pull back with surprise.
“Wait...You're that kid, aren't you? Yeah, Porter told me about you. One of the Cavanaugh kids; the freakishly smart one with the dirty mouth, and good looks,” my mom answered, and I whirled around to give her a glare, before turning to Brayden with a grimace.
“She's on a lot of pills, her shrink thinks she's about to lose it all together. You shouldn't take anything she says too seriously,” I rushed out in one breath. He gave me an amused look before turning back to my mom.
“Good looks, huh?” he asked, a smirk on his face, and I groaned. "So how much does she talk about me? Obsessedly or religiously?"
“Oh I would say both, she thinks you're a beautiful Greek God sent down here to torture us mortals,” my mom answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes, making Brayden's grin impossibly huge.
YOU ARE READING
Deals With The Devil's Spawn
Teen Fiction(Daredevil Book 3) Brayden Cavanaugh doesn't believe in love. Just because he's the product of the damn thing, doesn't mean he has to fall for the theatrics. This, however, means nothing to his mother, who insist on setting him up on a blind date ev...
