Page 23 of Redeeming the Villain

He turns into his long driveway. “Trust me when I say that you can’t keep everything buried deep inside. It will find its way out, even if it has to tear through you to do it. It’s a hell of a lot easier if you free it on your own.”

“When did you get so wise?” I chuckle, my throat burning and getting tighter.

“When Blair forced me out of my comfort zone and showed me a mirror of who I had become over the years.” He rounds the oversize water fountain, parking near the grand staircase leading to the front door. “What’s going on? I know something is wrong, so don’t bother denying it. I was just trying to give you space, but clearly, it’s not going away on its own.”

My chest feels tight again, and I’m scared this conversation is going to send me spiraling. But I know what Griffin went through, growing up. He knows pain similar to my own.

At the same time, Griffin is one of the only people that I think would understand what’s going on and not judge me. But deep down, I’m scared that my wounds will never heal, that I’m cursed to be raw forever.

“Mal,” he hums, “come on, man. It’s just me.”

“I know.” My voice breaks, and I wince at the crack showing in my foundation. “I just … I’m …”

A fucking pussy. A fucking coward. Worthless. Garbage.The thoughts, said in my uncle’s voice, echo in my brain, vibrating against my skull.

A car comes into view behind us, pulling up behind Griffin’s pickup. It’s Mrs. Potts and Charlie, saving me from sharing anything I might regret, and I mentally thank them for their perfect timing.

“I’m good, Griff.” I end the conversation, throwing my door open and rushing out, probably noticeably fast.

But I don’t care. I need to be alone. This was too much. I can’t handle it. I know that’s pathetic, but vulnerability makes me want to peel my skin off.

After I take a quick shower, get ready, and eat, Blair, Griffin, Lumi, and I load up into Griffin’s pickup to head to the Kensingtons’.

Griffin’s wealthy because of the empire his parents built. But the Kensingtons are old-money rich, generational wealth on a whole other level. It’s daunting, to say the least. But somehow, those cocky shits turned out to not be complete douchebags.

It’s ironic that I grew up hating anyone and everyone who had this level of money, and now I’m surrounded by some of the most extravagant wealth I’ve ever seen or heard of.

But I think that has to do with the Kensington's parents. I’ve only met them once, but they seemed so down-to-earth and humble. It was shocking.

They even made the brothers move into the dorms for the first two years of college, just to be forced to be on their own and be self-sufficient. I respect the decision a lot.

Luckily for them, they only have this year left, and then they are free to get their own place or move back in with their parents.

As we pull into the Kensington estate, I can’t imagine not choosing to stay here. It’s ridiculous. I’ve only been here once or twice for team dinners, but I’m awestruck every time. I can’t fathom being used to this.

A tall wrought iron gate seals the property off from the world. We stop at the gated entry and are greeted by the older man who works in the booth.

“Good evening.” He smiles at Griffin.

“Hello, sir. Good to see you again.” He shakes his hand.

“You as well.” He presses a button, and the gate slowly opens, parting from the middle and revealing the breathtaking grounds inside.

It still blows my mind that people can live like this every single day and become accustomed to it. It’s insane.

Griffin pulls through, and the gate swings close behind us. He takes a right at the first intersection, heading toward the main house.

Picture-perfect landscaping stretches across every inch of the property. Pristine flower beds, trimmed hedges, water fountains, and controlled vines that cover the old brick. Birds decorate the baths scattered about. Life blooms all around us, like the grass is greener in between the Kensington fences.

Shit, it just might be.

A motorcycle revs behind us, and I turn my head to see two bikes racing closer, weaving to our sides and passing us. They salute-wave as they zoom by, beating us to the front of the house … if you can call this place a house.

The brothers take their helmets off and rest them on their bikes, both smiling at their victory of beating us.

Griffin slams on the gas, gaining speed and heading straight for Asher and Dean, only stopping at the last minute. Their smiles falter as fear flashes in their eyes.

We burst out laughing as Griffin parks next to their bikes. When we exit the truck, Asher and Dean greet Griffin and me with our habitual handshake, and the other two with a quick hug.

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