Thank fuck.
Veronica showed up a week after I started therapy. We had the same appointment times. It was awkward at first. More so when I noticed the bruising on her wrist. But now it's better. She brings me Sour Patch Kids sometimes.
We don't talk about why we're there. Just sports mostly.
“I have something for you.” Connor reaches into his back pocket, pulls out an envelope, and then hands it to me.
There’s a law firm listed in the top left corner.
My heart slams against my rib cage, bottom lip trembling.
No. No. No.
“Ryan?”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “You said you loved me. Why are you asking for a divorce?”
“What?” Connor grabs my chin. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me.”
I take a shaky breath and open them.
He smiles softly and holds out the letter again. “I am not divorcing you. Fuck, this was supposed to be a good surprise.”
My hands shake as I take the envelope and open it. I unfold the letter, eyes scanning the legal document.
CERTIFICATE OF NAME CHANGE Suffolk County Supreme Court
This is to certify that: Connor Michael Walsh has legally changed their name to: Connor MichaelHenneman
The words blur. I blink hard, read it again.
Connor changed his name. To mine.
I swallow hard, the paper shaking in my hand as I look up at him. “You . . . you took my name?”
“You are more family to me than any Walsh ever has been.” He goes from gripping my chin to cupping my face. “I see the love your family had from the pictures you share. I see it with Larry. I want to be a Henneman, want to have a name that actually means something.”
Tears streak down my cheeks, my breath hitching in broken bursts. “You gonna stop making me cry at some point, or should I just expect it for the rest of my life?”
He shrugs.
So, I punch him in the shoulder.
That smirk appears again, then he stands and turns around.
Jesus fuck.
I let out a low groan, already getting hard.
For once in my life, I actually want to top because Connor’s wearing his Titans jersey with number eighty-six—his number—and Henneman across the back.
My name.
His new name.
He’s mine. He’s really fucking mine.
I reach into my joggers and start stroking my cock, staring at him in that jersey. What would he look like riding me reverse, his cute butt bouncing on me?
