I didn’t correct him and prove his paranoia right.
Looking back, I should’ve been terrified given Asher’s reputation for reckless driving. However, he’d driven safe and slow, and our conversation had kept me from spiraling.
For someone whose mere presence put me on edge, he had a way of also easing my anxiety—namely by distracting me so much I didn’t have time to think about anything else.
A twist of unease tightened inside me. I didn’t like my contradictory reactions to Asher. I preferred to sort my emotions into separate boxes—black and white, good and bad, alphabetized and color-coded. But when I looked at him, I was a muddled canvas of gray.
I hated gray.
“So, are we going to talk about what happened?” I asked, switching subjects. Asher and I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I didn’t want Vincent to freak out and go on a tangent about me consorting with the enemy. “How’s Dad?”
All I knew was he’d had an accident. He had a lot of those now that he was retired and constantly puttering around, but they usually involved him hitting his head or slamming the door on his hand. Nevertheless, he made it sound like he was dying every time.
Vincent wasn’t the only drama queen in the family.
Still, he was our father, so it was our duty to check in anyway, hence why Vincent gave him an emergency ringtone.
“He fell and broke his hip. He’s fine,” he said when I opened my mouth. “He doesn’t need surgery. But, uh, he asked me to come home and stay with him until the season starts or he’s fully healed.”
I narrowed my eyes as Vincent wolfed down his spring roll. “You can’t hire a home nurse? It has to be you, specifically?”
“I did hire a nurse, which is why he wants me to stay with him. You know he hates being alone with strangers.”
Fair enough, but…“Vince, you can’t even make a proper bowl of soup. What are you going to do while you’re there?”
I couldn’t picture my wonderful, athletic, yet deeply out of touch brother taking care of anything that didn’t involve a football, a video game, or a party.
“Good thing soup has nothing to do with it,” he countered. “I just have to keep Dad company and make him feel better about having the nurse around twenty-four-seven. If I’m not there, he’s liable to drive her to murder.”
“How long will recovery take?”
“It’s hard to say. The doctors estimate anywhere from three to four months.”
“Hmm.” I studied him with a hint of suspicion. “You’re not doing this to get out of training with Asher, are you?”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “Trust me, Lettie, I’d rather stay in London. I don’t want you dealing with Asher alone, especially when he…”
I stiffened. “Especially when he what?”
He knows about the ride home. He knows Asher has been flirting with you and, despite what you say, a part of you likes it.
“Especially when he’s such a dick,” Vincent said after a beat of hesitation. “Don’t fall for the charmer act he puts on with girls. It’s just that. An act. I’ve seen it a million times. We should’ve never signed him,” he added with a grumble. “You see how he is. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
Relief loosened the knot in my lungs. He doesn’t know.
“I’m not stupid. Besides, I have a strict no-footballer rule. Asher Donovan is not on my romantic radar, and he never will be.”
Attraction didn’t count as romance. That was an involuntary, hormonal thing. My body may not agree, but my brain was firmly on board and my heart was safely locked away.
However, a seed of guilt remained lodged in my chest. No matter how I rationalized the car ride, it felt like a betrayal, and I hated doing anything that might jeopardize my relationship with Vincent. Besides Carina, he was the only person I fully trusted.
“Good.” Despite his response, Vincent’s frown deepened. “On second thought, maybe I can talk to Dad and convince him his home nurse won’t, I don’t know, stab him in his sleep when I’m not there. I can be here during the week for training and take the train to Paris on the weekends. The more I think about it, the more I don’t fucking trust Donovan.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re going to travel to Paris every weekend?” I shook my head. “There’s no convincing Dad. He’ll lose his shit and you know it.”
“But—”
“Stop treating me like a kid.” I pointed my fork at him. “I’ll be fine. Anyway, didn’t the Boss make you guys train with me because he wanted you to work together? If you’re not here, that defeats the purpose. There’s a good chance he’ll call off the program altogether and Asher can go back to training on his own.”
Vincent stared at me for a long beat before his shoulders relaxed.
“You’re right.” Relief shrouded his words. “If the Boss okays my leave, which he basically has to, he’s not going to make Donovan stay with you. It would be stupid.”
I hoped that was the case. Otherwise, it meant Asher and I would be forced into one-on-one lessons. Three times a week, every week for the remainder of the summer.
An errant flutter disrupted my stomach. Disappointment or anticipation? I couldn’t tell, which was alarming.
“Exactly.” I hoped I sounded confident and not like I was trying to reassure myself. “There’s no way he would do that.”
“The sessions continue. I’ve already spoken to Frank. Vincent’s absence doesn’t change anything for you and Asher,” Lavinia said, seemingly oblivious or indifferent to my squeak of surprise.
Vincent was leaving for Paris tomorrow with the Boss’s permission. Frank was probably suspicious of his conveniently timed family emergency, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. My brother was officially off the hook for our trainings.
I’d requested a meeting with Lavinia that morning to see if his departure would affect my summer obligations.
Apparently, it didn’t.
