Page 18 of Rematch
Every part of my brain screamed that I should. That we were better off like this.
But, nothing felt right about whateverthiswas. We didn’t feel like friends. We didn’t feel like enemies. Hell, we didn’t even feel like strangers.
We were just two people with history.
And I don’t know if I liked it.
His fingers tightened around my hand, now past the stage of potential rejection.
The soft squeeze, like pushing a button, brought my limp muscles to life. My fingers stretched around his hand and I held it tight.
Our hands remained intertwined for the rest of the walk to the store, throughout our quick browse through the aisles, and the entire journey back home. Even as we stepped through the front door, we still didn’t let go.
Chapter 8
Max
“Max…? Max…? Maximiliano!”
I blinked out of my unseeing gaze at the loud sound of my full name. My eyes bounced around as I searched for the culprit, ready to punch them square in the face. I hated being called that shit. The only person who stilled called me that, without getting cursed the fuck out, was my father.
And, as expected, he was the one who’d said it.
We were sitting in the office of one of the clubs he owned. Apparently, I’ve done well enough to learn more about the legitimate side of his businesses too. Tonight, he was going over how he oversees the men running the books and monitoring the drug profits as the product floated throughout the club. Money-talk was probably the most boring part of the so-called “training” he’s been putting me through. I’d much rather be actually doing something rather than sitting here and being lectured. It’s why I parked myself in front of the double-sided mirror that overlooked the club. Watching the patrons mill around the vicinity, drinking and dancing, provided some entertainment. But even that wasn’t enough to keep me from floating off into space.
I was almost surprised when my eyes refocused into reality, looked at him and saw a crease of concern lay between his brows.
“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice somewhat sincere. “You’ve been zoning in and out all night.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Talk to me.” He rose from his seat at the desk and joined me near the mirror. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I hesitated on my next words, unsure if I really wanted to have this conversation or not. As much as I didn’t want to, there couldn’t be a more ideal time. It was just the two of us in the office with the door closed. The guards outside couldn’t hear us, and even if they tried, the music blaring through the speakers around the facility would drown out anything we said. Whatever was said would stay between us.
“I…I ran into Jayden the other night,” I started, using my words cautiously to gauge his reaction.
His face didn’t move an inch. Nothing flickered in his eyes. It was as if he were hearing a stranger’s name. He continued to stare, waiting for me to finish.
“He was fighting in one of the rings I was overseeing.”
My father remained silent, still unfazed by my report.
“He went up against a man twice his size and won. When I pulled him aside, he seemed more pressed about the money than he was about his victory.”
“So, he can fight. Good for him.”
“You’re not worried about that? I mean, the kid’s what, eighteen now -barely. He shouldn’t be anywhere near these rings.”
“You weren’t much older when you came around,” my father noted. “What’s the difference?”
“I fought because I wanted to. For him, it looks like he needs to - for the money.”
“Well, like you said, he’s eighteen now. Child support has been paid in full. Which means his financial situation is not my concern.”
My brows twitched, threatening to stitch together. “You really don’t care?”
“Why would I?”
