She jabbed her finger toward the door, and they shuffled out, their heads hanging in shame.
I tried to say something before they left, but the words didn’t make it past my lips.
I’d sapped the remainder of my energy talking to Asher and then Vincent when they first arrived. It was a miracle I could keep my eyes open.
Dr. Ambani and the nurse bustled to my side. There was poking and prodding and low murmurs exchanged between them, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
A host of sentiments crowded my throat.
I wanted to tell Asher how touched I was that he’d skipped the match for me and that everything would be okay. Our secret was out, which meant the worst had passed.
I wanted to apologize to Vincent for keeping our relationship from him and reassure him that he didn’t have to worry about me. That this wasn’t a Rafael 2.0 situation and that I was happier with Asher than I’d ever been.
I wanted to remind them not to let today ruin their fragile truce because they were so much better as friends than as enemies.
I wanted to say a lot of things, but they would have to wait.
My grasp on consciousness slipped. Steel anchors dragged my eyelids closed, and darkness descended, shutting out the rest of the world.
ASHER
I let Vincent have the first punch, but after that, the gloves were off. I felt guilty about lying to him, but I didn’t feel guilty enough about it to serve as his docile punching bag.
By the time the doctor kicked us out of the room, we were both worse for wear. A cut on my lip dripped blood into my mouth, and a dark bruise mottled his jaw.
I was ashamed of fighting with him when Scarlett was lying right there, but when Vincent swung at me, my fight or flight had kicked in and blacked out everything except self-defense.
Dr. Ambani and the nurse stayed in the room while we glared at each other in the hall.
It was either a slow day or the hospital staff had been warned not to linger near us because the corridor was empty save for two nurses at the far end. There was no one around to eavesdrop or record us except Carina and Brooklyn, who appeared shell-shocked by the rapid escalation in events.
Vincent’s fists clenched and unclenched. “How long has this been going on?”
By this, I assumed he meant my relationship with Scarlett.
The truth was already out. I might as well tell him the whole truth. “Since July.”
“July?” I swore I saw steam billowing from his ears in clouds of unchecked anger. “You’ve been sneaking around together behind my back for almost three months?”
“Like I said, we didn’t tell you because we knew you would react like this.” Frustration snapped its teeth, lending my words more bite than I’d intended. I should give Vincent more grace considering he had to deal with the double whammy bombshell of our relationship and his sister’s hospitalization, but I was too stressed and worn-out to give a damn. “For the record, we didn’t want to date or keep it a secret from you after you returned to London. It sort of just…happened.”
It was a lame excuse, but this wasn’t the time nor place to explain the intricacies of the past three months.
Vincent didn’t appear to be listening anyway. His attention had dropped to my trainers (I never wore my cleats to the stadium before a match). Disbelief bloomed across his face. “Were you the guy in my sister’s shower when I dropped by her flat over the summer?”
Fuck.
“Technically,” I said with great caution. “I was in the bath.”
“Christ!” A resulting string of French swear words echoed in the sterile hallway. “She told me it was someone from RAB!”
I cleared my throat. “Also technically, I was someone from RAB. At least for the summer.”
Vincent’s eye twitched. He looked like he wanted to swing at me again, but a sharp voice interjected.
“Stop it!” Brooklyn stepped between us. She and Carina had been observing so quietly from the sidelines I almost forgot they were there. “Look at you two. Grown men acting like children in a hospital, of all places. Are you not ashamed?”
Crimson streaked across the tops of Vincent’s cheekbones. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what? Call you out on your bullshit?” She crossed her arms, her face the picture of stubbornness. He was at least a foot taller than her, but she appeared to tower over him even as she glared up at him. “Your sister is lying in there”—she pointed at the closed door to Scarlett’s room—“trying to rest, and one of the first things you do when you arrive is start a fucking brawl in her hospital room. She’s stressed enough. She doesn’t need her brother and her boyfriend making things worse. And you.”
Brooklyn whirled around to jab a finger at me. “You should’ve known better than to indulge Vincent’s bullshit. There’s a difference between self-defense and actively engaging in a fistfight. No wonder my dad gets so grumpy when either of you comes up in conversation. I’m surprised you haven’t driven him into an early grave yet considering he has to deal with your selfish, childish antics every day!”
You could’ve heard a pin drop in the silence.
We gaped at her, too stunned about getting dressed down by someone half our size to respond immediately. Behind her, Carina smirked, looking like she was enjoying our discomfort a little too much.
But Brooklyn wasn’t wrong. We were acting selfish and childish. The doctor had pretty much said the same thing, but the way Brooklyn laid it out struck home.
We were so caught up in our pride and our need to win this stupid argument that we hadn’t considered how our actions would affect Scarlett.
A fresh wave of guilt doused the testosterone in the hall, leaving me cold and shame faced. Across from me, Vincent shoved his hands into his pockets, his face red.
If I really wanted to get technical, I was the one at fault for convincing Scarlett to delay telling Vincent about us. His anger was understandable, but when he came at me, my knee-jerk instinct had been to go on offense.
“We are going to stay here and keep an eye on Scarlett.” Brooklyn gestured to herself and Carina. “You two talk it out somewhere else. I don’t want your negative vibes poisoning this area.”
