Exhaling, I nodded, and watched as Vincent’s expression changed from desperation to relief. “You’re right; it’s not his fault he was born into this. I’ll continue to tutor him, but I have conditions.”
Vincent’s brow furrowed, and I could tell he was about to object, so I hurried on. “No swearing, no alcohol, and no drugs around Dylan. You’re trying to set a good example for him, right? Setting a good example starts with becoming a good example.”
I held my breath, watching as the muscles worked in Vincent’s jaw, expecting him to reject my offer. But when he gave a curt nod instead, I felt like I had just entered a dream state. I had just negotiated with a Madden and lived to tell the tale.
“If you think that’s gonna help him then I’ll go along with it.” Vincent brushed his fingers against my knuckle, and my heart soared. Breaking eye contact, he stepped away from me, putting distance between us. “I gotta go.”
His abruptness confused me, and I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ears in an attempt to find something to do with my hands now that Vincent had released them. “Yes, uh, I should go, too. I have to start prepping for dinner.”
“Prepping dinner?” Vincent cocked a brow.
“Yes, for the homeless.” I resignedly shoved my hands into my coat pocket to stop fidgeting. “A hot meal really gets their spirits up on a freezing night like this one.”
“Huh.” He was silent again, his eyes searching as they studied my face. Finally, he broke his gaze, and headed back to his bike. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
“Okay, sure,” I said, but I didn’t start walking to the community center, even though I knew I should. Something was tugging inside of me, curling itself around the wall I always kept in place when I was near Vincent—sympathy.
I felt sympathy for Vincent. And that notion was terrifying, that I felt sympathy for this guy who was so different from me that there weren’t enough antonyms in the world to compare us.
“Vincent.” He turned when I said his name, and I swallowed, bunching my fists inside the pocket of my coat. “I do care about you.”
I didn’t wait to see his reaction—a part of me didn’t want to know how he would react.
I simply walked away.
Chapter Fourteen
Vincent
There was a pounding in my ears as I watched Estella walk away.
I didn’t know what to think. She’d just told me she cared about me. No one had ever told me they cared about me and meant it.
Ruby had said something along those lines to me many times, but she was always manipulative with her words. With Estella, it was different. It was different because she actually seemed genuine about it.
And she’d touched me again. She’d fucking touched me. I figured the girl couldn’t stand to be near me, but she’d actually touched me. And I’d touched her back. Because I’d wanted to. Because I didn’t want her thinking that I didn’t want to.
My logic was so screwed up.
Swearing under my breath, I turned to grab my helmet, and that’s when I saw him.
Conor sat on his bike, across the road, in the parking lot of The Penthill Grill. And, he was staring right at me. Even from here, I could see the smirk on his mouth as he watched me like he’d just found out an amazing secret.
My body tensed as a sick feeling filled me up. Conor was the butt boy of Troy, the leader of the Allbrook gang. Troy was always sending Conor out on little recon missions to try and dig up something on me so they could use it as an advantage against me in a fight.
It’d been three years and they’d still had no luck. Those assholes were dreaming if they thought they’d ever find a weakness in me. I’d been trained by the best; I’d been trained by Ryder, and he allowed no weaknesses. Not after what’d happened to him. Not after he’d been weakened for life. No one knew about Ryder’s weakness except me and Tyson, and we were sworn to secrecy, bound by something more powerful than what bound our gang—we were bound by blood.
Still, the smug expression on Conor’s face made my stomach sink. Why the hell did he look like he’d just seen something that’d made his day? There was nothing—
Then my heart sank into my stomach.
Fuck.
He’d seen me with Estella. There was no other explanation for it. He must’ve seen her brush aside my hair, and seen me holding her hand.
Anyone who knew me knew I didn’t do shit like that. Yeah, I kissed girls, touched girls, and screwed girls, but I never held their fucking hand. I’d taken things way too far with Estella—I’d let her in—and now that asshole, Conor, had seen us together. Even if he told Troy, I didn’t really know what they’d do with the information.
I was holding a girl’s hand; so fucking what?
Still, I didn’t want Estella getting dragged into the middle of the chaos that was my life. It’d been hard enough convincing her to stay for Dylan. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be giving me many more chances.
I just hoped Conor hadn’t seen her face properly before she’d left. It worried me that I’d unknowingly exposed her to the Allbrooks.
Shooting Conor a look of indifference, I flipped my middle finger at him and climbed onto my bike. A broad grin spread across his face, and he gave me a thumbs up before pulling on his helmet and riding out of the parking lot at high speed.
Asshole.
That night, I got drunk with the boys.
We sat by the creek behind our house, celebrating Ryder and Tyson’s return. Dylan wasn’t feeling too great and I hadn’t wanted to leave him home by himself, so we’d decided to stay on the property instead.
The guys were all talking around me, but I was only half-listening to what they were saying. My mind kept drifting back to Estella and why she affected me like this. It kept drifting back to Conor and how much he’d seen this afternoon.
I finally paid attention when Cohen started talking about Allbrook’s new fighter; some young guy who was slowly working his way up the ranks and being trained by Troy himself. Normally, Troy let his thugs coach their fighters, so if he was getting involved then he probably thought this new kid had a good shot at beating me.
“He any good?” Harris asked, taking a swig of his beer.
Harris was the oldest in the gang—he was thirty-one—and he always got to the point. That’s what I liked about him—he didn’t play games, he didn’t mess with you; he just gave it to you straight.
“They’re saying he is, but I haven’t laid eyes on him yet,” Cohen said with a shrug. Cohen was our recon guy. He found out all the dirt about the rival gangs, but especially the Allbrooks. “All I know is, they reckon this new boy could beat Vin.”
Everyone turned to gauge my reaction, but I didn’t even react at the news. I had other things on my mind; like why Estella had touched me like that. And why the hell had she said she cared about me?
“Then they’re fucking idiots.” Ryder’s voice broke above everyone else’s, loud and clear. “No one can beat Vincent, and those Allbrook fuckers know it.” He gave everyone a hard look as if daring them to contradict him
No one was stupid enough to disagree with Ryder. At least to his face.
Then Ryder’s eyes shot to me and a cold smile formed on his mouth. “No one can beat you because you don’t have a weakness, isn’t that right, little bro?”
To everyone else, it might’ve seemed like Ryder was showing his confidence in me, but I knew better. That’s not what he was doing. He was exercising his power over me.
When I spoke, my mouth felt dry. “Yeah, that’s right.”
Ryder gave me a curt nod before his eyes snapped back to the other guys. “This is such a cock-fest. Let’s get some pussy down here.”