Scarlett wasn’t alone. Standing beside her bed, his back to me, was Vincent. I’d recognize that buzz cut and number four kit anywhere. He must’ve come straight from the match. He turned, his face darkening when he saw me. Fuck. I hadn’t seen any news about me and Scarlett yet, but considering I’d missed my most anticipated match of the season so far to be by her side, I guess he’d pieced the puzzle together faster than the paps. I held up my hands as he stormed toward me. “Vincent, I—” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence before he hauled his fist back and slammed it into my face.
