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-*?? . ??? ? ?.-*??
It’s past midnight. Vincent won the tournament and beat Maggie.
I still laugh thinking about the look of shock on Will’s face—or the orange soda Sam sprayed everywhere—when I announced the winner’s name.
Will’s asleep on one of my pillows on the floor. I tried to offer him an air mattress, but he insisted the floor was “cooler.” Honestly, I want to try that too.
Sam collapsed on the sofa in a ridiculous position, while Maggie locked herself in her room after shaking Vincent’s hand in cold congratulations.
“You could sleep with Steve in my room. Or take the air mattress. It’s too late to go home now,” I whisper to Vincent, joining him on the tiny balcony overlooking the street.
He sits in a plastic chair, staring ahead, fingers drumming against his thigh. He definitely has a new tune in his head. This guy could write a song a day if he had the time. It’s unbelievable. He’s unbelievable.
I lean against the short wall, following his gaze, until my phone buzzes again. Under Vincent’s watchful eyes, I pull it out, but the call ends almost instantly. It’s my mother again. With a sigh, I slide down to the floor with my back against the wall.
“Marshall?”
I glance up. “Huh?” I murmur.
“What’s going on?” he asks softly, moving to sit beside me.
I close my eyes and lean harder against the wall. “Nothing.”
“Nova.”
“Nothing happened, okay?” I mumble, hugging my knees.
Vincent sighs and mirrors my posture. “I know you don’t trust me anymore.”
“Then why ask me what’s wrong?” I snap, crossing my legs just as he opens his, caging me in between them.
“Because you shouldn’t rob yourself of the chance to vent to your best friend just because he’s a piece of shit. I know I suck, but I can still listen to you—for as long as you need.”
I sigh. “You don’t suck. And you’re here for Steven anyway.”
Vincent gives me a steady look, raising his palm toward me. “I’m here for you, Nova. No one else. Just you.”
Slowly, I press my palm to his. It’s warm. “My mother called me.”
Vincent stiffens immediately. He hates her almost as much as he hates his biological father—but she’s still my mother. I can’t erase her from my life, or Asher’s. Even if I wanted to. Especially with my finances. And honestly, who would believe me at this point?
“What does she want?” he asks.
I shrug, noticing how his calloused fingers line up perfectly with mine. “Nothing. Just to know how I’m doing.”
The disbelief in his eyes is sharp. “Nova, please.”
Another sigh. I lace my fingers through his, needing the warmth, the familiarity. “She needs money.”
His expression darkens, furious. “God, Nova. Don’t—”
“They’re for Asher,” I cut in quickly.
He scoffs. “They’re never for Asher. When were they ever really for him?”
I know he’s right. Deep down, I know she won’t use the money for my brother. But what choice do I have? She has the power, not me.
