I frown. “Uh… okay. Of course you do.”
He chuckles and turns the hat over to look inside. He runs his fingers over the name inside. Shaking fingers. Bowed shoulders. Then he turns the hat so I can see.
“Your name?” I ask.
But he shakes his head. “My grandpa’s name.” He turns it over, and taps the hat like it’s an old habit, then, looking toward the stars, he brings it onto his head and finally relaxes. His shoulders shrink, and the vein that stands out against his neck turns smaller. His hands stop balling, and his feet come together.
I didn’t even realize he looked like he was ready to storm toward me. But now that he undoes it, I realize how close to danger I might have been.
Swallowing, he looks into my eyes and gives a gentle nod. “Thank you. Thank you for not damaging it.”
“I didn’t know it was special,” I murmur. “I wouldn’t have taken it if I knew how much it would hurt you.”
He wrings his hands together and shows me, for what may be the first time ever, Bryan Kincaid unguarded. “You can keep that one.” He nods toward the top of my head. “It’s special too. But not like this one.”
I reach up with slow hands and pull mine off. Nervously, I flatten my hair, smooth out the flyaways, and study the cap in my hands. It’s such a dark blue, it’s almost black. The brim is similarly rounded, and inside, it says Kincaid.
“Why is this one special?” I look back up and meet his eyes.
“My grandma gave it to me for my birthday a few years back. I like it, and I wear it to make her happy. But I wear this one,” he points at his head, “because…” He shrugs. “I feel like I have to. Like it’s really important I carry my grandpa around and show him the world he never got to experience.”
He coughs, like he’s nervous. “It’s dumb, I know. But he never got to live his life. He was put here to work hard, to love hard, create a family, then he was gone again. So… I dunno, if I share his name and wear his hat, maybe he can live mine with me.” He waves me off. “I know. It’s stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” I whisper.
“You don’t?”
I shake my head. Reaching up, I finger the locket that hangs around my neck, and because it’s so small and delicate, he comes closer as I open it to reveal a picture of my mom.
Bry stops so close that the toes of his boots touch my sneakers. He’s so tall that he has to fold a little, and because of that, his forehead almost touches the top of my head.
“Um… I guess the sentiment is the same with my locket. My mom died a long time ago,” I explain, and then shrug. “She’s gone, but I’m not. And maybe, if she’s somewhere in the universe and wants to check in sometimes, she can do it through me.”
He sighs. “You’re not actually a bitch, are you?”
My eyes snap up to his. Strangely, his question seems to be sincere. His eyes say it is.
“I try not to be,” I croak. “I’m flawed, just like everyone else is. But I try to be kind and fair. I did actually come to the track last week with the gossip about you in my head, but I wasn’t going to judge you.”
“Until the first thing I said was piggish and rude?”
Snickering, I release my chain, and nod. “Right. You kinda asked to be kicked in the nuts.” I swallow. “You really didn’t sleep with Jenna?”
“She’s your best friend, so what I’m about to say won’t help you think better of me. But the thought of sleeping with Jenna Price makes me sick to my stomach. I’d have to be way too fucking close to her for that, and in my mind?” He grits his teeth. "Pretty on the outside doesn’t mean shit if you’re a two-faced cunt.”
I bounce back with a jolt, like I’ve been hit by a bolt of electricity. “Bryan!”
“I’m sorry.” He shrugs. He’s not sorry. “I’m not gonna lie.”
“You talk to your mother with that mouth?”
He chuckles. “Absolutely not. She’d beat the shit out of me.”
“Do you have a daughter?”
Now it’s his turn to jolt away. “Huh?”
“That little girl from the gym. She looks a little like you, and when you walked in with her, she was holding on tight.”
His grin now is… well, pretty, I guess. “She does look a little like me. The dark hair. Dark-ish eyes.” Then he shakes his head. “She’s my niece. She’s not actually blood-related to me at all, but the fact she looks like one of us is a nice perk.” He sighs. “I love her like she’s mine. And the thought of anyone fucking with my family…” He shakes his head. “I’ll take just about anything from anybody. I won’t even come looking for payback most of the time. Especially not if fists were involved, and we already got it out of our systems. But fucking with my family is just…” He ends his sentence with a pained grunt. “It’s unforgivable. My grandparents didn’t sacrifice everything just so some snooty bitch with a bad attitude can feel superior by picking at the people I love.”
“Me?” I frown. “I’m the snooty bitch?”
“I actually meant Jenna. But…” He shrugs. “If you’d asked me ten minutes ago, I probably would’ve agreed and said you were just as bad.”
I bring a hand to my stomach. My time is running out. I’ve been gone ten minutes at least, and Jackson knows which direction I went. But still, I can’t walk away just yet. I can’t end this conversation when my gut says to stay.
“And now?” I swallow. “What do you think now?”
“That maybe we’re both misunderstood. Guilty by association. You choose shitty friends, and I tarred you with that same brush. And me…” He chuckles. “Well, perhaps I propagate and encourage misinformation. There’s a possibility that I’m obnoxious, and bored enough sometimes to start rumors just for the sake of it. I’m not a good person, Maddi. But I’m not a bad person either. I’m just…” He sighs. “Really happy to have my hat back.”
“Maddi?”
I snap my gaze to the left when Jackson’s voice carries above the crowd.
“Maddi, you still in the bathroom?”
I look back to Bry with wide eyes and a pounding heart. “Oh my god. Shit!”
“What?” He completely disregards the panic that slams through my blood. “He’s a fuckin’ bitch.”
He looks in the direction of Jackson’s voice, then back to me. Then he grins, massive and beautiful. “Ride with me? You don’t even like him anyway.”
“What?” I hiss. “Are you insane?”
“Certifiably.” He chuckles. “Ride with me, Maddi. Come find out what it’s like to ride with someone who actually wins.”
I point in his face. Angry. Energetic. Baffled. And running on adrenaline. “You’re obnoxious. And I have to go.” I turn to run, only to come to a screeching halt when he grabs my pointing finger and yanks me back.
I slam against his chest with a grunt, breathe in a lungful of his oxygen, shiver when his breath bathes my neck in long, warm waves, then I stumble back again when he releases me.