Vincent’s message snaps the little restrain I have on my temper. I don’t bother with a reply. Holding his gaze, I place my phone face down so he knows not to send another text. The wanker thinks we are best friends now. Not in this life. I only brought Brianna here. I don’t give a rat ass what he wants to tell me.
“Brandon,” he says when my gaze redirects to Brianna. I help her up and my arm slides down her back. He palms his glass of water, his food untouched. No idea why he ordered it. “Please. It’s important.”
Brianna tugs on my sleeve, I believe that’s the main reason I pause. I sigh. “What is it, Vincent?”
His jittery gaze scrolls over Brianna’s face, he picks his phone and mine pings again. I stare out the window. I can walk out right now and nothing will happen. Brianna groans. I finally pick my phone.
Vincent: I’ll only be a minute. It’s important and we need to discuss somewhere private.
We walk out of the restaurant with Brianna in our middle. He darts curious glances at her, sometimes she smiles at him, other times, she doesn’t look his way. With a little assistance from me, Brianna gets into the backseat of the car. I jam the door close and lean on it, Vincent occupies the space beside me.
He doesn’t suggest a change of location so I take it to mean this place is private enough. My fist gently connects with the roof of the car and my eyes scan his face. He looks like I did when Bren was at John Hops. Vincent runs one hand through his hair and lets out a painful sound. I jump back to create some space.
“I fucked up, Brandon,” he whispers.
He slaps himself once, twice, then continues until I lose count. What the fuck is wrong with this dude? His cheeks redden with each slap but he doesn’t stop. He keeps at it like it will wipe whatever guilt he feels.
“Hey,” I call out to him. “Stop that shit.”
I don’t care if he hurts himself but Brianna is in the car. She might not be able to hear us but she can see us. A note of sadness hangs over him and he balls his hands by his sides. I shove a hand into my pocket, counting down until it’s okay for me to leave because he’s here to waste my time. I need to be with El.
“Brandon.” My head jerks up. “I fucked up really bad.” He smiles sadly, my heart leaps to my throat. “I made a grave mistake.” A second, two seconds, he doesn’t say more. “Thank you for letting me see her.”
“If I had my way, you wouldn’t.”
A hollow laughter tears out of his lips. “Did you read the diary?” He leans on the car, his arms stretched out on the roof to mimic my stance. I shake my head. I don’t need to know more than I already did. She probably filled half the pages with illicit fantasies about me. Fucking liar. “Do you have a favourite word?”
For some reason, his question doesn’t annoy me. “No.” I press my hands on the cool surface and smirk at our blurry reflections staring back at me. To Vincent’s reflection, I say, “Can you round up this talk?”
My woman is waiting for me so we can fix our marriage.
“Yes. You didn’t ask but my favourite word is asphyxiation,” he says with a bitter laugh that dies down immediately at my glare. I know that word alright and I will asphyxiate the fuck out of him if he doesn’t tell me the reason for this delay. “Sorry.”
Another painful silence passes. I don’t know if he’s contemplating his words or if they are too heavy. He draws a caricature of a car on the roof. My neck cranes to understand the lines he creates. Two lanes with a jeep in front and another behind it. He starts talking, his fingers strutting all over the surface.
“This is me,” he explains as a third car appears in the right lane. “This is Damien.”
Blood drains from my face. There’s only one Damien. “Da... Damien?” I stutter out.
Pointing to the car in the middle, he says, “Your Damien.” Oh, my fucking God. Who is this man? I clasp my hands behind my head. I need to leave this psychopath but my feet are stuck. “And this is Brendan.”
A chill runs down my back and I suck in a sharp breath. My teeth dig into my knuckles, I yank my hair from the roots. The searing pain tells me this conversation is real so I nod for him to continue. Vincent adjusts his jacket, his gaze lingers on me for a minute, then his attention returns to his car illustrations.
He makes another line showing a bend that leads to a new route. “Brendan is to make a turn here,” he says. “But his car is having problems.” Because I tampered with the car. “Might be his brakes, someone messed with it.” He throws me a pointed look. I shrug. I have made peace with my sins. “Well...”
An eyebrow lifts, daring him to say more but Vincent purses his lips. The tightness in my chest has my hands moving to undo my buttons to keep me from suffocating and I roll my sleeves to my elbows.
“They didn’t do such a good job at it,” he quietly adds.
My chest deflates, laughter sputters out of my lips. This bloody idiot. What’s his point? I did a good job. Better still, Damien did a good job of it. I laid down step-by-step instructions for him to carry out and he did. We did it together. Damien was only sent as a backup to ensure Brendan never made it out alive.
“So his car stops before he runs off the cliff,” Vincent continues. My heart drops. For a second, my mind blanks and there’s a buzzing in my ears. “Have you ever wondered what you can do with two fingers?” He presses his middle and index fingers together. A shadow falls over his face, he snaps out of whatever trance he’s in and a thin line of sweat breaks out on his forehead. He stares at the cars. “Damien stopped too. I also stopped.”
My heart stops, then it crashes against my chest. I am not sure what he’s getting at but the possibility scares the shit out of me. His fingers halt on the surface but his face remains blank. I want to hurry him but I don’t want to hear the rest of his words. Vincent knew Damien. No one is supposed to know him.
Vincent’s lips quirk in a half-smile. “I read it out to him,” he says, “every single entry in her diary that was about him.” Hiding his face in his palms, he shivers. “He should have left her out of it, you know?” His voice is muffled, when his hands lower, tears are lining his eyes. “She just wanted you to love her.”
There’s no blame. No anger. Using the hem of his sleeves, he wipes his cheeks. I pat his shoulder and he shrugs off my hand. He has had his fair share of suffering, maybe I need to stop being so hard on him.
“Bri is waiting,” I mutter.
“Yeah. Sorry.” On a sigh, he nods. “She looks like her mother.” Brianna waves at us. “She’s pretty.” He smooths his hands over the front of his shirt.
“I read it to him. I wanted him to be sorry, Brandon. He ruined her life and her kid’s. He must have been sorry, right?” he says more to himself. Sweat forms under my armpits. He’s scaring me. “It was a mistake.”
“Vincent.”
He stops. His hands slide into his pockets as he spins to face me.
“Sorry. I keep getting distracted.” Scratching the back of his head, he asks, “Where was I?”
I fold my arms on my chest without offering a reply and a slow smile breaks out on his lips.
“Right,” he says, “I read it to him.” I spare a glance inside the car, Brianna is curled on the seat. “It would have ended there...” His words filter in and out of my ears before I can process them. “The car started...”
I tune him out but something he utters cuts through me like broken glass. I grab him by his collar.
“What did you say?”
His face spells defeat. “You heard me, Brandon.”
My grip tightens. I shake my head. “You are a liar,” I yell. Vincent struggles against me but I apply more pressure. Not so tough now, eh? I swear to God I’ll kill him. His face quickly turns blue and it encourages me to twist his collar so I can effectively cut off his air supply. “You did what, Vincent?”
He didn’t do it. My eyes sting, I push the tears down. He made that story up.
The banging on the window stops me from doing anything stupid, I shove him and he collapses to the ground like the pathetic human he is.
Is he telling the truth? His gaze meets mine, no trace of remorse.
He is a liar. Brendan was dead on impact. He died from traumatic brain injuries and internal bleeding.
“Stay away from my family.” My finger juts in his direction. I don’t mind that Brianna is watching us. I will break every bone in his body the next time I see him around anyone I care about. His lips twitch but he says nothing. God. I feel a sob coming so I take a deep breath. “Stay away from me. Stay away from Bri. If you don’t...” I pause to let the words sink in. He steels his gaze. “I will ruin you, Vincent. I’ll end you.”
Vincent picks himself up. His head dips in a curt nod and I walk out of him. Brianna stares at me through the rearview mirror, she doesn’t speak and I am grateful for the silence as we start the journey home.