Chapter 16
Ihad two hours to kill between my classes every Wednesday so I decided to hit the gym on campus.
Credit to Byron, the facilities at Triple C were incredible. The gym itself was decked out with white marble polished floors with thick mats under brand new machines. There was a reformer Pilates room, a hot yoga room, and a dance studio off the main floor, as well as a boxing ring taking up pride of place in the center of the room… And it was currently occupied by Dacre and Presley.
I acted like I hadn’t even noticed my stepbrothers sparring in the ring, their toned and sweat-slicked torsos drawing the thirsty gaze of every girl in the room. It was particularly hard to ignore Presley’s glistening skin, knowing my hands or mouth had been pressed against almost every inch of it while I was riding him in the shower.
God, what I wouldn’t give to do it again.
Ignoring them, I made my way to the treadmills, pulling my headphones out of their case as I went. I was so focused on not focusing on Presley and Dacre that I didn’t notice Satan’s spawn at the squat rack with two of his fucking sidekicks.
It had been two weeks since he’d attacked me on the pool deck, and the bruises he’d left on my throat were almost completely gone.
“The new girl is obsessed with me,” Trenton said, staring at himself in the mirror, clearly pretending he couldn’t see me. “I can’t go anywhere without her showing up.”
There was no way in hell I was going to rise to that bait. It wasn’t worth an ounce of my energy, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of the reaction he was so desperate for.
“My dick is just that good. It makes the ladies crazy.”
His friends laughed at their master like good little minions and I tried not to throw up in my mouth. God, he was disgusting.
I should have listened to Sinclair, Dacre and Presley when they warned me about him at the wedding reception. Except I’d been too busy trying to prove that I had nothing to prove. That, despite my mother forcing my position in her new perfect life, I wouldn’t be a good little girl who did what she was told. Least of all from my stepbrothers.
If only it hadn’t come back to bite me in the ass this hard.
Trenton was a tool, and I was riddled with regret for ever going near him.
I stepped onto the treadmill, putting my earbuds in and cranking my music loud enough to drown out the sound of the dickwad nearby.
Just as I’d gained a rhythm, my phone rang, the sound echoing in my headphones.
“Hello?” I didn’t slow my run, whoever it was could deal with my panting breaths.
“Miss Dempsey, it’s Gretel, Mr. Aston’s household manager.”
I fought a smile. “I know who you are, Gretel. You’re unforgettable.”
“Thank you, Miss Dempsey. That’s very kind. I’m calling to let you know another delivery arrived for you. Six cases this time.”
Another one?
“More granola?”
“One moment, we’ll find out.”
There was silence down the line while someone cut open one of the boxes.
“Coconut shampoo, eight bottles to a box, Ms Dempsey.”
“Shampoo?”
Who the hell was sending me shampoo? Whoever it was, I’d take that over another ominous missive from my father.
“Yes, Miss Dempsey. Shall I have some placed in your bathroom and move the rest to the storeroom?”
“Yes, thank you, Gretel.”
I hung up, focusing on my run and not my surprise deliveries. I still hadn’t managed to thank Byron for the granola. Maybe the shampoo was from him, too?
Twenty minutes later, my skin was slick with a thin layer of sweat and my legs were fatiguing, but I wasn’t ready to stop.
Running didn’t bring me the same solace and silence that swimming did, but I still loved the feeling of my muscles aching, my chest heaving, and fatigue taking over my body.
Focused on my strides, I didn’t feel it when my earbud dropped out until it hit the empty cup holder. Propping my feet on either side of the speeding running pad, I picked up the earbud. I was about to put it back in when Trenton’s obnoxious voice carried across the gym.
“It was worth it. Dempsey is one freaky slut.”
My stomach dropped, anger coursing through me. Did Trenton really just call me a slut for sleeping with him?
“What the fuck did you just say, DeGrossi?”
I didn’t turn around, but I caught the fury on Dacre’s face in the mirror from where he stood in the boxing ring, his knuckles blanched white from his death grip on the ropes.
If Trenton was concerned about being called out by a raging Dacre, he hid it well as he turned casually towards the ring.
“Heard that, did you, Dacre?”
“Yeah, I fucking heard it, so get in the ring. Because you don’t get to trash a fucking Aston and walk away with your face intact.”
I’m not a fucking Aston.
I bit down on the words threatening to climb up my throat, because it wasn’t important right now. Instead, I pretended I couldn’t hear them at all. I dropped my gaze and stepped back onto the treadmill to continue my steady rhythm. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to stop myself from watching the drama unfold in the gym mirror.
Trenton sauntered towards the ring, his face hard with disdain. “For fuck’s sake, Dacre, you’re always such a thug.”
God, what had I ever seen in that wet noodle? I deeply regretted the fourteen-point-four seconds he’d spent inside of me. And probably would for the rest of my damn life.
“I wonder if your real father was a bruiser just like you,” Trenton went on, crossing his arms over his chest with smug satisfaction at the way Dacre’s gaze was locked on him, his body coiled with barely contained rage. “Maybe he banged up your birth mom and that’s why she dumped you in that group home where Byron found you. Just so she could get away from her shitty life of raining fists.”
Rage flooded me, and I slammed a hand down on the emergency stop on the treadmill, swivelling in an instant. I whipped the remaining headphone from my ear, tossing it with the other one, then marching across the room to the boxing ring. “What the hell did you just say to him?”
Trenton glanced my way like I was nothing more than an annoyance. “Oh, hey Dempsey. Didn’t see you there.”
His obnoxious little friends who’d been watching this whole thing play out snickered from behind him.
Fucking sheep.
“Don’t talk to her,” Presley said casually, moving to the edge of the ring to lean against the corner ropes, as though the mounting tension in the room was a total bore to him. “How about you stop acting like the total pussy that you are and step into the ring like Dacre asked?”
The briefest hint of apprehension flashed in Trenton’s eyes.
Not so brave when he’s being called out, instead of skulking around pool decks offering unwanted neck accessories.
He scoffed with false bravado, reaching for the lowest rope and swinging himself up onto the mat. He ducked, dipping between the ropes, bringing him face to face with Dacre.
“You want to talk shit about our family, you’d better be prepared to back it the fuck up,” Dacre spat.
He was mean when he was angry. It was a side I hadn’t seen from him yet. He’d been surly on my mother’s wedding day when I’d first met him, but this outright rage was something else. And the fact he was acting this way in my defense was all kinds of… well, hot.
“Do you really think you can take me in a fight?” Trenton said with a laugh.
But Dacre wasn’t laughing. His hard gaze was locked on Trent with a seething intensity that would have me shaking in my sweats if it was directed at me.
“I know I can, pretty boy. Now fucking hit me.” Dacre motioned to his jaw.
Trenton turned back to his friends with a look of mocking disbelief. But without warning, the comic expression dropped, his eyes hardened, and he swung at Dacre in the most cliché fucking fake out.
“Cheap shot,” Pres called out, but it was more a heckle than a protest.
Dacre didn’t dodge the hit even though it was clear to everyone and their grandma what Trenton had been about to do. Dacre tested his jaw, eyes locked on Trent.
“Good. You got a hit in. Now you can’t run to Daddy crying about how I wiped the fucking floor with you.”
Dacre’s fist moved faster than lightning, whipping out to hit Trenton clean in the mouth. He stumbled back, hitting the mat and clutching his face. Dacre was on him in a second, throwing his weight at Trent like a seasoned pro. Dacre swung punch after punch at Trent’s jaw, alternating his hands.
“Dacre, Dacre, he’s our boy,” Pres sang like a cheerleader from his spot in the corner. “He’ll fuck Trent up like an old dog toy.”
Blood spilled from Trent’s nose, splattering against the mat, but Dacre didn’t let up.
“Stop!” I shouted, finding my voice.
Dacre stilled, both he and Presley staring in my direction.
“That’s enough, Dacre. Let him up.”
Dacre relented, raising both his hands and pushing to his feet.
Trenton rolled to his side, coughing up a mouthful of blood that he spat on the mat. “You’re a fucking snake, Aston.”
“The only snake here is you, you little b—” Dacre lunged for Trent, but Pres held him back with a firm arm across his chest.
“Let’s go,” I called, backing away from the ring and hoping my stepbrothers had the sense to follow. Dacre needed to cool off and distill some of the fury still clearly rattling him. And that wasn’t going to happen with Trenton mouthing off at him from his bloodied position on the floor.
The fucking audacity of that asshole.
“Listen to your new Mommy, Dacre,” Trent called, sitting up and wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.
Dacre made a move back to the ring, but both Pres and I grabbed him this time, hauling him back.
I rounded on him, getting in front of him. “Outside. Right now.”
He glanced down at me, those blue eyes locking with mine. They were laced with a mix of fury and something else I couldn’t name.
Shaking us both off, Dacre marched for the door.
“Fuck!” he shouted once we were outside.
He ran both hands through his hair, leaving them there. His biceps rippled, his t-shirt riding up to show a strip of toned stomach. Coupled with the masculine rage coming off him, the whole look was mouthwatering.
Dacre swivelled, looking at me, then Presley. Another one of their silent conversations passed between them.
“I’m out of here,” Dacre said, still vibrating with anger.
He took off down the path towards the parking lot before either of us could protest.
Presley pulled his phone from his pocket. “Sin? Dacre’s out of it.” He glanced my way, phone pressed to his ear. “Trent was shit-talking Dempsey at the gym so he hauled him into the ring and beat the shit out of him.”
He paused, listening to whatever Sinclair was saying.
“Nah, Dempsey called him off, got him outside, but he just took off.”
He paused again.
“Can do. See you later.”
Presley hung up and slid his phone back in his pocket, a broad smile spreading across his face. “So, should I walk you to class?”
My face contorted. “Are you serious right now? What the fuck just happened in there?”
A part of me loved that Dacre had come to my defense like that, and I knew better than anyone that Trenton deserved it. But raging out on someone like Trenton could have serious consequences.
Pres shrugged. “Dacre is a complicated guy.”
An understatement. They were all fucking complicated. Presley with his chronic drinking and Dacre with his secret rage. Who the hell knew what Sinclair’s issues were. He probably had at least seventeen of them, given his permanently icy demeanour.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me? That he’s complicated?”
He sighed, blowing out a long breath. “Dacre gets real protective of those closest to him. Especially family.”
“I’m not your family.”
Presley chuckled. “Well, whether you want to be or not, Dacre considers you family. Me and Sin do, too.”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, jostled me against him in what I think was meant to be a hug.
“We meant it when we said you’re one of us now, Sass. Assholes like Trent don’t get to talk shit about you without D reconstructing their faces.”
I mulled it over, trying not to get distracted by his body touching mine. Dacre’s reaction had been protective, but his fury had levelled up the moment Trent mentioned his birth family.
“Was it because Trent talked about his mom?”
Pres ran a hand through his hair, looking more uncomfortable than I’d ever seen him.
I’d quickly learned that Pres was well practiced at masking any kind of discomfort with his panty-dropping grin and signature charm.
“Dacre is crazy protective of those close to him. It’s just what happens when you’ve gone through the system.” He glanced out over the campus, choosing his words carefully. “When you’ve been abandoned more than once, you learn how to protect the things that are important to you. Dacre just does it with his fists sometimes.” He shrugged like what he was saying was nothing. But it was a whole lot of something.
He stopped on the path, looking down at his feet in a move that caught me off-guard. When he glanced up at me, the bravado was gone, replaced with a vulnerability that was edged with regret.
“It hits Dacre the hardest when I get shitfaced all the time. He takes it personally. Thinks he hasn’t been there for me, or isn’t being a good enough brother to stop me spiraling.”
I stilled at his tone, my stomach clenching at the remorse lacing every word.
The bonds between the three of them ran deeper than I’d ever realized. The issues plaguing them did, too. I’d judged them from the first day I’d met them as rich playboys whose biggest problems were whether or not their father was going to gift them the latest Maserati or where they’d find a vacation villa big enough to house them and all their nepo baby friends for the summer. But Dacre, Presley, and Sinclair were the walking wounded, carrying a crazy amount of baggage around. Even if their problems were gold-plated.
I reached out and took Presley’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I wasn’t entirely sure how else to comfort him in this moment. Both Dacre and Presley were battling issues with abandonment, just in very different ways. Presley opted to write himself off on the regular, while Dacre’s manifested as a fierce protectiveness that he could barely control. The altercation with Trent had started over me, but how much of it had really been about me and how much of it had been about his mom?
“Dacre had been ready to break Trenton’s entire face.”
Pres scowled. “He deserved it. The guy is a monumental douche.”
I tilted my head at him. “Trent’s a tool, no question, but Dacre looked like he’d kill him if I hadn’t called him off.”
I wouldn’t have been opposed to the idea of Trenton being severely maimed. But I was opposed to the idea of Dacre getting arrested because of me.
He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Sass. You’re in the inner circle now whether you want it or not.”