Page 39 of Rear View

Xavier

I rolled my shoulders and chucked my phone onto the weight bench, trying to shove the text to the back of my mind.

Castillo: He’s out.

Shit. The reality of it—knowing my old man was free—made my gut torque. Something that only got worse when an email followed a few minutes later.

Xavier,

We should talk.

Dad

“Fuck him,” Alec snarled.

The gym walls were black, the floors gray. Dark, just like my damn mood.

I inclined my head. Heavy bass from the music pumped as I set my position side on to the wall.

Holding form, I rotated and launched the medicine ball at it as hard as I could.

Trying to blow off some steam. It hit with a crack before it bounced back and I caught it.

I was working my core before the Shakedown in a few hours.

Not that we needed it, home field advantage, and all.

Alec looped a towel around his neck. “He’s pushing real hard to get to you.”

“Yeah.” He was. And it put me on goddamn edge. No doubt, he wanted Ma, but there was another game plan at play. One I couldn’t peg. And the idea that Ryah could get mixed up in any of it…

“You gonna write him back?”

I barked a hard laugh. “Not interested.”

“Good.” He grinned. “Didn’t wanna have to sack you.”

My mouth arced up. “Dick.” I whipped the medicine ball again. “Sheila doin’ alright?”

“Fuck, man,” Alex said, facing me, sweat slicking his brow as we worked together. “Monday was a rough night.”

Damn right it was, until Ryah and I worked things out.

Thoroughly. That’d been three days ago, and I’d spent every free second I had with her since, which’d been mostly at night.

And I loved sleeping beside her while she wore those tiny little tank tops and booty shorts she liked so much.

Ones that made my cock twitch. Damn thing wouldn’t stop.

But I never slept so good as I did when she was next to me.

My head was clearer, my focus on point. And I liked it. A lot.

I was eager to have her and Miles at the race the next day. Knowing they were there for me felt pretty goddamn great.

I cleared my throat. “You two good now?”

“Yeah. We’re good.” He loosed a rough exhale. “My socials have blown up though. Not sure of how to feel about it.”

“Same.” I’d gained fifteen thousand followers in a forty-eight-hour stretch. Pretty much all women. My DMs were flooded with them trying to flirt, or talk dirty, or ask for dates. When I got the first set of nudes, I stopped looking, mass deleted and set my messages to private.

Alec grunted when he caught his ball. “Fucking Trina.”

“Fuckin’ Trina,” I echoed. Heading over to the low-hanging rings, I hooked my feet into them, then set myself face down on the floor. Pushing up with my arms, I pulled my knees to my chest, then counted out. My core burned, and it felt good to work that stuff out.

Alec’s ball cracked the wall again. “How’s Ryah?”

My movements were gettin’ harder when I gritted out, “Better.” She’d understood, thank Christ. But I still wanted to do more. For her, yeah, but to send a message that I was taken. A loud one.

An idea hit. The picture Sheila’d taken.

Head jerking up, my eyes lit on my phone across the room. I grinned, my breath heavy when I jumped to my feet and made for it, ’cause shit, if I didn’t have just the goddamn thing.