That summer, Nate couldn’t stand to live in the same house as dad, so he’d applied for a room on his college campus and moved away at the start of summer. He’d been lucky; he’d missed a lot of what had happened afterwards.

Because after Nathan had left, my life had truly become a nightmare. Dating Carter Hammond was the last thing on my mind when school started up in the fall. For that matter, dating anyone was the last thing on my mind.

News about my messed up family life had warded off the advances of other guys—no one wanted to deal with their girlfriend’s crazy, alcoholic father—and though guys looked at me, they never approached me with any other intentions.

But now, pressed against Vincent like this, I wasn’t sure what to think. He was the only guy in a long time who had dared to look me in the eye. Who only saw me, and didn’t see the girl who came surrounded by rumors.

I was being silly though. There was no chance for a guy like Vincent and a girl like me. We were way too different—we were from completely different worlds. Vincent wasn’t the kind of guy who settled down, and I wasn’t the kind of girl who could handle instability.

And, here I was running away with my crazy thoughts when there was no logical reason for me to be having these crazy thoughts about Vincent. It was never going to happen. I would never let it happen. And, besides, I doubted that I was even his type. He was the kind of guy who made a move when he liked a girl, and obviously there was no interest on his part.

Therefore, I should stop thinking about how firm his stomach muscles felt beneath his shirt. Yes. I. Should. Stop. Now.

Thankfully, we’d reached the outskirts of Penthill, and it only took a couple of minutes before Vincent was pulling up outside the community center. We’d gotten here pretty fast, despite Vincent’s best efforts to stick to the speed limit. I was pretty sure if I hadn’t been with him, he would’ve broken the speed limit within a minute of starting the bike.

When I hopped off the bike and took off the helmet, I was surprised to find that Vincent was also getting off and removing his own helmet.

He rested his helmet on the seat and ran a hand through his hair, trying to remove all signs of helmet hair. I preferred it when he let his hair hang loose instead of plying it with gel and smoothing it back. Either way, it highlighted his cheekbones like crazy. He had amazing cheekbones.

“So, listen.” Vincent blew out a breath, looking uncomfortable. It was pretty obvious he was having a hard time communicating or talking about his feelings. It was kind of cute, actually. “I get why you don’t wanna come back and tutor Dylan. I was a total asshole to you, and I probably said things I shouldn’t have said, but you kinda pissed me off when you said that Dil was scared of me.”

“I know and I’m-“

“It’s just that I try so fucking hard, Stelle. I try so hard to give Dil the life that me and my brothers never had growing up. But I keep screwing it up. I keep making mistakes and I can’t make it right.” Vincent paused, breathing hard. His eyes drilled into me and an electric current shot up my spine. “I know you don’t think much of me. You made that pretty clear the first night we met. But I’m telling you the truth; I’m doing every damn thing I can to make that kid’s life better.” Vincent’s voice cracked, and he buried his head in his hands, tendrils of hair falling over his face.

Without really thinking about what I was doing, I stepped forward and brushed the loose strands of hair off his face before placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. It was difficult for me to see his tough guy exterior crack. Obviously, Dylan’s well-being meant a lot to him.

Vincent jerked up, his eyes wide and startled as he stared at my hand and then at me, as though trying to deduce whether I’d lost my mind. I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t. I mean, I had just tried to console a Madden for the second time in a week!

There was something very wrong with this picture.

Heat assaulted my face at Vincent’s reaction, and I took a hasty step back, feeling like the most moronic person in the world. I was mentally slapping myself over and over again for doing such a stupid thing.

Just because Vincent was upset didn’t mean that I could console him. We weren’t friends; we barely put up with each other. And, he was a Madden. A freaking Madden! I had to remind myself of that any time I let my feelings get the better of me.

I’d let myself get carried away again. The distance between us had to stay intact. I couldn’t just go around touching him all the time because I felt bad for him.

“Uh, um, yeah.” I stammered, at a complete loss for words. Vincent was still staring at me like I was a space alien, so I had to fill the excruciatingly awkward silence somehow. “I-uh-see that you’re being genuine ab-about wanting the best for Dylan, but-“

Before I could continue, Vincent reached out and took my hands in his. And you know what happened? My heart stopped. It freaking stopped. I mean, it didn’t literally stop; I could still feel it beating rapidly in my chest, but in some weird way, it stopped.

“Please, Stelle.” Vincent’s voice was low; his eyes burned into me, and his skin was blazing against mine. “I know you couldn’t care less about me if you tried, but Dylan needs you. If you stop coming over, it’s gonna kill him in a way you don’t understand. You’re not doing this for me; you’re doing it for him. Don’t let him walk away from this thinking that his circumstances make people treat him differently.”

There was so much sincerity in Vincent’s voice that I felt my defenses beginning to crumble. He was right. Dylan depended on me. In a couple of weeks, we’d formed an attachment, and I couldn’t break his heart like that. I would hate for him to go down the same path as his brothers, knowing that I could’ve made a difference in his life.

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.”