The Bad Boy's Brothers

Chapter 7

"Why don't you have a seat?" Vincent says, gesturing to an empty stool.

I slowly move to the stool and set myself down, never losing eye contact. I have to admit I'm nervous. I'm all alone in the kitchen with Vincent. He's obviously upset with me and the only people I can imagine would come in are also upset with me. No one would hear if he did anything. This house is so fucking big and all the neighbors are miles away.

"We need to have a talk, Will." Vincent's eyes stared straight into mine. I quickly shifted my eyes to the ground so I wouldn't have to suffer his glare. The way he was staring at me felt like he could see all my secrets through my eyes.

"Look at me, Will."

I turn my eyes back up at his.

"There we go. Now we can have a proper conversation," Vincent says.

Proper conversation? More like a lecture I'm sure. Probably how he knows I've had a rough life, but this is a safe space. And even though it is a safe space, there will still be rules.

"Look, Will, I know you've had a...rough life," Vincent states, looking uncomfortable. Who could've seen that statement coming? I wonder if Becky told him the details that weren't in my file, the ones that were apparently just between me and Becky.

"Ok," I say with no emotion.

"I just wanted to let you know that if you ever wanted to talk about anything, I'm here and so are all your brothers. You don't have to talk about any of this with us if you don't want to, but we're your family and we're all here to support you. No matter what. Ok?" Vincent asks.

"Even my mom?" I ask. I know I probably shouldn't have asked that, it was a total dick move, but I wanted to see his reaction.

"Excuse me?" Vincent's voice is dangerously low.

"You said that you were my family and that all of you were there to support me. Isn't she my family?" I ask innocently.

"It's clear you don't remember your mother, Will," Vincent replies.

"What makes it clear?" At this point, I'm basically flat out asking for information on my mom. I don't have any memory of her, and I know she probably wasn't the best person, but there's still a part of my heart reserved for her.

"We are not having this conversation right now!" Vincent slams his fist against the counter, making me jump.

"Sorry," I whisper, keeping my gaze trained on his tightly clenched fist laying on the surface. I knew he didn't want to talk about it, but I didn't think he would get this upset.

"Will," Vincent's voice softens as he notices my panicked expression, "Will, look at me."

I slowly lift my eyes up to his, keeping my head down.

"Will, I'm sorry, I just don't want to talk about your mother. I'm not mad at you, alright? And even if I get mad at you, I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, right?" Vincent says, relaxing his hand into his lap.

"I guess," I reply.

"You don't have to guess, Will. No matter how mad me or any of your brothers seem, we would never hurt you. I know Leo hasn't been the most welcoming, but it's just because he misses you and doesn't know how to act with you back. We all love you and Luca so much and we want to be there to help, love, and support you."

"Okay," I say quietly. It's a nice sentiment, but I don't think Vincent has had any major problems with his kids and he's in for a shitstorm of trouble with me. He doesn't know how rage blinds someone, makes them forget all their previous promises of kindness.

"However," Vincent starts, "As part of supporting you, there will be rules."

Called it again. Despite what Vincent thinks, however, there is no way in hell I will be following any of these rules.

"I wanted to discuss this with you, so we could come up with the best rules for you," Vincent continues.

"You want me to make my own rules?" I ask in disbelief.

"Not completely," Vincent shakes his head, "I just think it's important that you're included in this conversation."

What is this man on? Not once in my life has anyone ever asked me what I thought rules for myself should be. Just before I'm about to say that I don't need any rules at all, I stop for a second.

Here's my logic, if I say I don't need any rules, Vincent isn't going to believe me, which will inevitably lead to a long list of ridiculous rules that he came up with. So the better option is to suggest a few minor rules that I can easily not break. Like I have to walk Luca to and back from school. I already do that, easy peasy.

"I could walk Luca to and from school every morning and afternoon," I suggest, keeping my voice quiet.

"That's not necessary, one of the boys or I will drive you, Luca, and Theo to school and back every day," Vincent replies.

Although that's really nice and no foster parent has ever taken me to school, he basically just kicked my one easy suggestion out the window.

"What about a curfew?" Vincent asks, "Do you have an idea of a reasonable time that you would have to be back here, lights off?"

I stay silent, fidgeting with my hands as I shove them further into my lap.

"How does 10 o'clock sound?" He asks.

My eyes shoot up, "10?"

"Yes, 10 pm, every night. Do you have a different suggestion?" He replies, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm never going to be back here by ten," I tell him truthfully. I usually returned to my foster homes around midnight unless I had a reason to be there earlier. And if my foster parents were abusive, I would sneak in at 2 am or not even go back for the night.

"Did you have a different time in mind?" Vincent asks.

"Maybe 1 o'clock, if it has to be lights out," I suggest.

Now Vincent's eyebrows raise, "One o'clock AM?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Unfortunately that's not an option," Vincent informs me, "How about a compromise? 11:30."

"Sure," I say. That's one rule I'll be breaking.