My breath hitched as I felt her pulse speed up. The silence grew between us as my eyes wandered over the long waves of her hair that I wanted to tangle my fingers up in, to the amber eyes that I wanted to look into for hours, and then finally to those pink lips that I wanted to taste so bad.

Every single part of me wanted to entangle itself with Estella, and I could tell from the way her body was tensed against mine that she wanted me just as much. Her lips were parted, as though waiting for me to make a move, and there was nothing stopping me from leaning in a few inches and tasting that pretty mouth of hers.

But all of a sudden, Estella pulled away and her eyes darted away from mine. My stomach unclenched and I felt like I could breathe again.

What the hell was wrong with me? I’d almost kissed Estella when I’d been determined to put distance between us. I was losing my damn mind!

Estella’s face was still bright pink and she began to scratch at her left arm. “Um, do you have a, uh, sewing kit?”

I shook my head because words weren’t forming right now.

“Okay, well, I’ll just, um, go back to the house now. Dylan’s probably wondering where we are.”

Without another word, Estella moved past me and left me standing alone. It was pretty clear she couldn’t wait to get away from me. I couldn’t blame her. I wanted to get away from myself too.

Chapter Eleven

Estella

Despite Vincent telling me that they didn’t have a sewing kit in the house, Dylan had managed to find one and talked Vincent into changing his shirt before he’d left to meet up with the rest of the Madden gang.

Clearly, the sewing kit hadn’t been used in years, but it would do for the two buttons I needed to sew back on. Since it wasn’t a particularly cold afternoon, I’d decided to sit out on the front porch to get some fresh air as I sewed the darn buttons back on. Dylan was inside finishing up his homework assignment and keeping an eye on the Bolognese sauce that was simmering on low heat.

And Vincent was right. You could hear the faint trickle of the creek from the porch. It was calming and was really helping with my nerves that had gone haywire when Vincent had touched me.

The memory of how I’d grabbed onto Vincent’s shirt was still fresh in my mind. Could I be any clumsier? I’d managed to break a wooden plank and Vincent’s buttons in one smooth second. And, gosh, the way he’d held me in his arms, well, I couldn’t really describe it. No one had ever held me like that before.

It was hard for me to admit that Vincent made me feel safe and that I actually felt safe in his home. Sure, a part of was still terrified of being caught in the middle of a drive-by crossfire, but my nerves were calming down now that I had fallen into a routine with the two brothers. There was a serenity here that was lacking in my own home. I didn’t feel safe there. I hadn’t in years.

I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I had been wrong about Vincent. I had judged him without really knowing him. He had a side to him that many people rarely saw—the compassionate, caring side that only came out when he was with Dylan had peeked out at me today when he’d shown me the creek.

The sound of an approaching engine disturbed the peace, and I glanced up expectantly as I waited for Vincent’s bike to come around the corner.

Yet, what I was hearing wasn’t a bike; it was a car. Was Vincent expecting someone?

Putting the shirt aside, I rose to my feet and waited.

A couple of seconds later, an unfamiliar truck came around the corner and gave two loud honks. It slowed to a stop just as Dylan tore out of the house and ran past me down the steps.

“Tyson! Ryder!” Dylan called out as two guys got out of the truck.

“Hey, Kid.” The guy that’d spoken was well-built—he was more muscular than Vincent—and bore such a striking resemblance to Vincent that I knew right away that this was his older brother.

The other guy didn’t look very much like either Vincent or Dylan but he shared the same dark hair as Vincent and the other brother. He wasn’t as muscular either; his body was leaner and lankier.

“Tyson, did you bring me back anything?” Dylan fell into step with the lankier brother and looked up at him expectantly.

Feeling uncomfortable, I bent over to pick up Vincent’s shirt, the needle and thread, and the small sewing box Dylan had found. My ears were still entirely focused on the conversation Dylan was having with his brothers.

“Kid, we were doing business,” the other brother—Ryder, I assumed—said. “We ain’t got time to buy presents.”

Dylan’s face fell and Tyson tousled Dylan’s hair in a way of apology. Ryder’s gaze fell on me as I stood on the front porch, and his face pinched in suspicion as the three of them reached me.

“Who the hell is this?” he demanded.

The way he scrutinized me made me feel small and helpless. There was a look in his eyes that terrified me, like he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through my head. This wasn’t someone you messed around with. Authority was oozing from every pore in his body. This man was an Alpha.

Dylan bounded forward and stood in front of me, acting as a buffer. “She’s my tutor.”

Ryder didn’t respond, but his mouth tightened as he strode up the steps and walked inside the house. I flinched when the door slammed shut behind me.

Tyson shot me a look of interest, his eyes travelling the length of my body, but didn’t acknowledge me either before he also went inside. A chill ran down my spine when I noticed the handgun in his back pocket.

When Dylan turned to me, he looked sad. My fear quickly dissipated at his change in mood and I held out a hand for him to take.

“Should I stay out here?” I asked in a quiet voice.

The Madden brothers hadn’t acknowledged me, and I was a little worried about going inside with them there. Sure, I had been inside plenty of times, but I felt like I had fallen to the bottom of the hierarchy somehow.

“No, it’s fine,” Dylan assured me, leading me back into the house. “Vin will be here soon. He’ll take care of everything. He always does.”

That didn’t reassure me a whole lot. Vincent barely acknowledged my existence either, except for this afternoon, so I didn’t see how he would make everything better. For a split second, I seriously considered digging my heels into the ground and refusing to go inside, but I reluctantly followed Dylan anyway.

The aromatic smell of my Bolognese sauce greeted us as we entered the hallway and went into the kitchen. My heart sank when I saw the two brothers hovering around the stove. Ryder had removed the lid of the pot and was sniffing at the contents.

It was like he’d never seen Bolognese sauce before.

“What’s this?” Ryder asked, glaring at the pot.

“Estella’s making spaghetti Bolognese,” Dylan said; the excitement was clear in his voice. “I’ve never had a homemade one before. The one we usually get from—”

Ryder directed his glare at me. “Estella.” His expression was sour, as though my name tasted bitter in his mouth. “Why is she making food? I thought she was your tutor.”

I think it finally dawned on Dylan that his brother wasn’t sharing his enthusiasm. Tyson was leaning against the counter, studying me like he couldn’t figure out what I was doing here. At least the look in his eyes wasn’t as hostile as Ryder’s.

“S-she is,” Dylan stammered.

Ryder’s tone was filled with disbelief as he pointed at me. “Then why is she cooking and sewing?”

Before either one of us could say anything, an engine cut through the silence outside and relief flooded me. Vincent was home.

Dylan must’ve jumped to the same conclusion, because he bolted out of the kitchen, and I heard the front door swing shut.

An awkward silence ensued as Tyson and Ryder stared me down. A surge of anger was slowly building up within me. Who the heck did they think they were trying to intimidate me like that? I’d done nothing wrong, yet they looked at me like I was a parasite.

Feeling brave, I tossed my head back and met them with a look of defiance. I was a big sister; I was used to petulance from Savannah. I wasn’t going to let these two intimidate me. I didn’t want them to think that they had gotten to me.

I had been through so much in my life; I wasn’t going to let a pair of delinquents get to me. Sure, a part of me was terrified, but another part of me didn’t care. I would never let a bunch of thugs scare me.

There were footsteps behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I was frozen; locked in this staring match with Ryder, refusing to back down.

“Stelle.” The voice was gentle in my ear.

I still didn’t turn around. I was strong. I would not give in. I was strong. I could handle this. Nothing was going to break me down. Not a darn thing.

“Stelle.” Vincent spoke again; this time his voice was firm, filled with authority. This time he wasn’t messing around.

A hand rested on my shoulder, and my entire body slackened as I turn around to meet Vincent’s dark gaze. The look in them was deadly.

He stepped forward and pushed me behind him. My back hit the wall and I closed my eyes. Suddenly, all the bravado left my body and I felt deflated. There was movement beside me and a small hand slipped into mine: Dylan’s.

“Little bro.” Ryder was the one to speak. His words sounded like a taunt, a way to put Vincent down and belittle him.

“You’re back early.” Vincent’s tone was cool, collected.

“Who the fuck is this?”

Was this how the brothers greeted each other? I hated that they were using that kind of language in front of Dylan.

“She’s Estella,” Vincent said, simply. “She tutors Dylan.”

“Are you fucking her?”

My eyes flew open and I straightened up, anger shooting through me. How dare he accuse Vincent of sleeping with me? I wasn’t that kind of girl. I didn’t sleep around with people.

“No, I’m not.” Vincent spoke so calmly that even I wanted to strangle him. How could he stand there and not be affected by what his brother was saying?

“Then why the fuck is she cooking? Why the fuck is she sewing your shirt?” There was accusation in every word that came out of Ryder’s mouth. He said it like doing all that was a bad thing.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

My eyes widened at the apathy in Vincent’s tone, and a crushing weight descended into my chest. The fact that Vincent thought that my doing all these things for them meant nothing, truly hurt me in a way I hadn’t expected. I knew Vincent and I weren’t friends. We weren’t even close to being friends. I knew he didn’t care for me the way Dylan did, but I figured that he at least would appreciate the things I did for them around the house.

“It better not mean anything,” Ryder said, and there was a threat in his words. “No weaknesses, little bro. Bitches are meant for fucking, not for anything else, you understand me?”

A gasp escaped my mouth, and Ryder must’ve heard it, because he let out a low chuckle. Even his laughter sounded evil.

“I know that,” Vincent said, sounding detached. “I’m not fucking her. She tutors Dylan and cooks for him. He likes it, so I let her do it.”

Vincent had to know that I didn’t just cook for Dylan. He couldn’t be that ignorant. It was obvious I made enough food for all three of us.

“Good,” Ryder said, the hardness gone from his voice. “Keep it that way, little bro.”

When Vincent didn’t respond, Ryder spoke again. “Is Dylan studying hard, Estella?”

Surprise shot through me at the fact that Ryder had addressed me, and I stepped beside Vincent so I could see Ryder better. The hostility was gone from his face; now a smirk played around his lips.

“Yes, he’s very bright,” I responded, keeping my voice even.

Ryder gave a few small nods as though he was really considering my words. “See, the thing is, I think all this school stuff is bullshit. I think that whoever Dylan’s dad was, he was some pompous ass prick, because Dil definitely didn’t get this from us.”

My body tensed at the way Ryder spoke so brashly about Dylan’s parentage. This was all news to me, but the fact that Dylan hadn’t reacted proved that he had heard all of this before.

This ten-year-old boy, who had so many aspirations, was well-adjusted to hearing his older brother’s uninformed opinions. It made me ill, and my heart broke for the life Dylan had been born into. He deserved better than this; he deserved a chance.