46

Vincent

The adrenaline from the fight was fading, leaving a dull, throbbing ache throughout my body. The ride home was silent, the steady hum of the bikes’ engines filling the air. It was a comforting noise, drowning out the chaos of my thoughts. I glanced at Jennifer , her face pale and tired, but her eyes still burned with resilience. She was tougher than I had ever imagined.

When we finally pulled up, I climbed off the bike and helped her down, my hands lingering at her waist longer than necessary.

“Let’s get you inside,” I said softly, my voice low as I guided her toward the house.

Inside, I led her to the living room and gently lowered her onto the couch. The soft glow of the lights illuminated her face, highlighting the streaks of dirt and the faint smudges of dried blood. My chest tightened at the sight, guilt washing over me in waves.

“Are you alright?” I asked, kneeling in front of her so I could look her in the eye.

She gave a small nod, though the exhaustion was written all over her.

“Just a little banged up. Nothing I can’t handle,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself. My hand instinctively reached for her face, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as my fingers lingered on her cheek.

She was breathtaking, even now.

“Let me check,” I said gently but firmly. “I need to see how bad it is.”

Carefully, I began to examine her injuries, my touch as light as possible. When I lifted her shirt slightly, my stomach twisted at the sight of a dark bruise spreading across her ribs. There were also small cuts scattered across her arms and legs—nothing life-threatening, but each mark felt like a punch to my gut.

I hated Rico more in that moment than I ever thought possible. At least now he was gone, along with his men.

“These aren’t too serious,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone calm. “But we’ll need to clean them up.”

Standing, I walked to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit, my mind racing the entire time. When I came back, Jennifer was watching me closely, her eyes glimmering with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. I sat beside her on the couch, the cushions dipping under our weight.

“This might sting,” I warned as I dabbed antiseptic onto a cotton ball.

She winced when the solution touched her cuts, but she didn’t pull away. Her quiet bravery only made me admire her more.

“I’ve been through worse,” she said, forcing a smile despite the pain.

I couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re tougher than you let on,” I teased gently.

“And you’re not nearly as intimidating as you pretend to be,” she shot back, her smile growing until it reached her eyes.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Guess we both have our secrets.”

As I finished wrapping the last of her cuts, she reached out and brushed her fingers lightly against my arm.

“What about you?” she asked softly, concern filling her voice. “You’re hurt too.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, brushing it off. The last thing I wanted was for her to worry.

She gave me a knowing look, the kind that said she wasn’t buying it.

“Let me see,” she insisted, her tone firm but endearing.

Reluctantly, I sighed and pulled off my shirt, revealing the bruises and cuts from the fight. Jennifer ’s eyes widened, and she reached out instinctively, her touch so soft it was barely there. My body reacted to her closeness in ways I tried to ignore.

“Vincent ,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “you can’t just ignore this. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Her genuine concern hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. “I’m alright,” I said, though the words lacked conviction. “It’s just a few scrapes.”

She shook her head and took the antiseptic from my hand. “Let me help,” she said firmly.

I nodded, letting her take over. Her touch was delicate, each movement filled with care. As she cleaned my wounds, I felt myself slowly relax. The tension that had been gripping me since the fight began to ease, replaced by a calm I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my gaze locking with hers.

“That’s what we do,” she said softly, her lips curving into a small smile. “We look out for each other.”

For a while, neither of us spoke. The outside world faded away as we sat there, her presence grounding me in a way I hadn’t thought possible. I took a deep breath, realizing for the first time in hours that the worst was behind us. Jennifer was safe, and Rico would never hurt her—or anyone else—again.

“Jennifer ,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

“What is it?” she asked, her eyes curious and focused on me.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure how to put the whirlwind of emotions into words. Finally, I took a steadying breath. “I’ve spent so much of my life trying to protect the people I care about. But sometimes, I wonder if I’ve done more harm than good.”

Her brow furrowed, and she placed her hand gently over mine. “Why would you say that?” she asked softly, her voice filled with empathy.

I looked down, the memories surfacing like a flood. “I’ve lost people,” I admitted, my voice rough with emotion. “My wife, Maria… she was everything to me. Losing her felt like losing a part of myself. Since then, I’ve been terrified of letting anyone get close. I thought that keeping my distance would protect them. But with you… it’s different.”

Her hand tightened around mine, her warmth grounding me. “I’m so sorry, Vincent . I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been through,” she said, her voice heavy with compassion.

“It was hell,” I admitted, my throat tight. “But meeting you has made me realize something. I can’t keep living like this—closing myself off, letting fear control me. I need to trust that I can protect the people I care about without losing myself in the process.”

“You’re not alone anymore,” she said, her voice steady and filled with conviction. She leaned closer, her presence both calming and electrifying. “I’m here, Vincent . I want to be here—with you.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, breaking through the walls I’d built around myself. For the first time in years, I felt hope.

“Thank you, Jennifer ,” I whispered, my voice thick with gratitude.

She smiled softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We’ll face whatever comes together,” she promised.

Unable to hold back any longer, I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall.

“I love you, Jennifer ,” I said, the words raw and honest, both terrifying and liberating to say.