Wrong Side of Town wm-3

by Komal Kant

  I pulled into the driveway out the front of the house and felt a twinge of disappointment as Estella released me and climbed off. I really wouldn’t have cared if she’d held on for a bit longer.

  She turned to me, her eyes bright as she handed me the helmet. “I never thought I’d ever say that I enjoyed riding on a bike.”

  “Really?” I turned off the engine and hopped off the bike, placing the helmet on the seat. “If you ever want to learn how to ride one, I can teach you.”

  “Oh, no.” Estella laughed nervously, shaking her head so that her long honey brown hair spilled around her shoulders like waves. “I’m not that adventurous. It just feels good to close my eyes and escape. I like holding onto you as you drive.” Suddenly she stopped, her cheeks turning a cute shade of pink. “Oh, um, I mean, by holding onto you I meant-”

  A laugh escaped me as I leaned in closer to her, tilting my head so that her lips were inches away from mine. “It’s okay to be attracted to me. You’re only human.”

  Estella gaped at me, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink that made me smile. “I-uh-that’s not it at all.” She took a deep breath as though to compose herself before speaking again. “Are you staying for Dylan’s lesson today?”

  “Nah, I’m gonna meet up with the boys.”

  “He’d like to have you there with him.” I didn’t like the disappointment in her tone; it made me feel guilty.

  “Yeah, I know.” My eyes searched hers, and all I wanted to do was to bring a smile onto her face. An idea scratched at the edge of my mind. “Has Dil shown you the creek yet?”

  “No, he hasn’t, but don’t go changing the subject. You should really-”

  “Well, come on then, I’ll show you.” I grabbed her by the hand and began pulling her along with me. “It’s just down through those trees. You can hear it if you sit up on the porch.”

  “Don’t think that this is the last you’ve heard of this topic,” Estella warned from behind me.

  “I didn’t think it would be.” For some reason I was laughing as she fell into step beside me. Estella’s hand was still in mine as we headed down the gravelly path that slithered through the trees and to the creek.

  My brothers and I had built a small wooden dock a few years back and restored an old boat that Three’s granddad had given us. It now sat tied to the dock, swaying back and forth in the shallow water. We never took it out on the creek because the last time we’d tried, it’d started filling up with water so we’d fixed it up again and just left it floating there.

  “Oh, you have a boat!” Estella said, as the clearing with the dock came into view.

  “Yeah, you like it?” I asked, reluctantly releasing her hand as she moved ahead of me.

  She turned back to me; her eyes were so bright, it was like an overflowing glass of whiskey. The smile that lit up her face was actually genuine. “It’s so beautiful here, Vincent.”

  “Yeah, it’s not too bad.”

  “It’s amazing.” Estella was moving toward the dock, speaking at the same time, unable to contain the excitement in her voice. I followed close behind her, in absolute awe that this was the only time I’d ever brought a girl down here without any intention of sleeping with her.

  Really, I wasn’t thinking about sleeping with her. I mean, yeah, I couldn’t help but admire the curve of her ass in the fitted jeans she was wearing. It was one of the only times I’d seen her not wearing long, flowing skirts or baggy jeans that gave no shape to her body. Even her cream colored sweater was a little tighter than the ones she usually wore. But it wasn’t even crossing my mind to press her up against a tree, wrap her legs around me, and bang her.

  Well, until now. I was a guy after all.

  Shaking my thoughts away, I focused on the back of her head as I stepped onto the dock. “We used to bring Dylan down here a lot when he was younger. He loved playing in the water.”

  “You came with your parents?” Estella asked, turning her head and watching me carefully.

  “No, we don’t have parents.” My tone was harsh but I didn’t really care. It was the truth.

  Estella’s eyes grew wide and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Oh, but Dylan said something about your mom leaving…”

  “Our mom is a good-for-nothing whore who doesn’t give a damn about any one of us. She slept around with a bunch of guys but somehow managed to have the three of us with one guy. Dylan’s dad is someone else.” I sounded a lot angrier than I’d meant to. “Ryder raised us; he’s the only parent we’ve ever known.”

  Instead of shrinking away like I’d expected her to, Estella’s expression softened and she moved closer to me. “I’m so sorry, Vincent.” Her tone was gentle as she laid a hand on my forearm. “I know what that’s like. My mother left us too. Being abandoned makes you feel like somehow you’re not good enough, but that’s not true. The ones who left aren’t good enough.”

  I was frozen; I couldn’t move. The way she studied me made me feel like I could tell her everything and she would know how to fix it all. Just that small gesture of placing her hand on my arm suddenly made me feel weightless, like somehow she was taking away all the negatives in my life.

  No girl had ever looked past more than just my looks or wanted to have more than a quick thrill of being with a Madden. Why was Estella so different? Why was she nothing like I’d ever experienced before?

  “Ryder’s your eldest brother?” she asked when I didn’t say anything.

  I hadn’t even realized I’d been silent for so long. “Yeah, he stepped up and took care of us. Now I’m trying to do the same for Dylan.”

  Estella moved away from me, and I was once again left feeling disappointed. She moved towards the edge of the dock, peering over the edge at the water. “I can tell how much you care about him. He absolutely adores y-aaah!” Estella let out a shriek as her foot sank right through a rotten plank, and she began to topple over.

  With lightning reflexes, I reached out and grabbed her firmly by the waist with both hands before she could fall over and twist her ankle. On instinct, she grabbed a fistful of my shirt to stabilize herself.

  “Oh my gosh!” Estella released my shirt and opened up her hand to show me two buttons resting in her palm. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to break your buttons off! I feel awful! I can sew them back for you if you have a sewing kit.”

  But I wasn’t even listening to her as I pulled her to me, my hands still wrapped tightly around her waist. That’s when she noticed the embrace; that’s when her eyes fluttered to my face and then to my lips, and when her entire face turned pink again.

  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?”