"Don't." He points at her, then at me. "Don't you dare try to explain this."
The door opens behind him. Emma appears in her bathrobe, Jim right behind her. Great. Perfect. The whole family gets to witness this.
"What's going on?" Emma's gaze moves from Connor to us, and I watch the moment she understands. Her expression shifts from confusion to alarm—we've been caught, and she knows how badly this could go.
"Ask them." Connor's laugh is bitter. "Ask them how long they've been sneaking around."
My throat closes. "Connor, I know how this looks—"
"You know how it looks?" He comes down the steps, and I move in front of Lucy. Her hand finds the back of my jacket, gripping the leather. His eyes track the movement, track the way her body aligns with mine even now. "You're protecting her now? That's rich."
"I'm not—" I start, but he's not listening.
"How long?" Connor demands. "How long have you been lying to me?"
Lucy moves beside me, her shoulder brushing mine, the contact sending heat through my jacket. "We weren't lying. We just—"
"Just what? Just waited until you were sure before telling me? Just wanted to make sure he was going to stick around before getting me involved?" Connor's voice rises. "Or maybe you knew exactly what I'd say, so you figured you'd hide it until Christmas and ruin that too."
The words slice through me. Jim puts a hand on Connor's shoulder, but he shrugs it off.
"Connor." Emma's voice is gentle but firm. "Let's go inside and talk about this in a calm way."
"There's nothing to talk about." Connor looks at me, and the hurt in his eyes makes my chest ache. "What's the plan, Ryder? Long distance for a few months until you get bored? Or are you just killing time until you go back to Boston?"
Every doubt I've been carrying crystallizes in his words. Every reason I should have kept my distance, thrown back in my face by the person who knows me best.
"It's not like that," I say, but my voice sounds hollow even to me.
"Then what is it like?" Connor steps closer. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're using my sister for entertainment while you're stuck in Vermont. And when you leave—because you know you're leaving—she's the one who'll be destroyed."
"That's not fair," Lucy says. Her voice shakes, and I feel it in the tension of her grip on my jacket. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Connor turns to her. "You think I haven't noticed the way you look at him? You're in too deep, Lucy. And he's got one foot out the door."
The truth of it twists in my gut. I want to argue, want to tell him he's wrong, but the words won't come. Because he's not wrong. Not about Boston, not about leaving. I am going back. That was always the plan.
"Connor, that's enough." Jim's voice carries authority now. "This isn't the time or place."
"When is the time?" Connor asks. "After he's gone and she's heartbroken? After he's back to his real life and this was just a nice little detour?"
I should say something. Defend us. Defend what we have. But my mind is blank, every argument dying before it reaches my lips. Because what can I say? That I haven't thought about this scenario? That I don't wake up some nights in a cold sweat,terrified of hurting her? That Connor isn't voicing every thought that's been eating me alive?
"Ryder." Lucy's hand finds mine, her fingers threading through mine with the same ease they did an hour ago when we were alone in my room, when I had her pressed against the door and she made those sounds that drove me wild. "Say something."
I look at her face, tilted up toward me, trusting me to fix this. To make it right. And I've got nothing.
"I don't—" I start. Stop. Try again. "I never meant for this to happen."
Wrong words. I know it the second they're out of my mouth. Lucy's hand goes rigid in mine, her fingers still warm but no longer soft.
"You never meant for what to happen?" she asks in a quiet voice.
"For us. For this." I gesture between us, hating myself. "I knew it was complicated. I knew Connor would—I should have been more careful."
"More careful." Her voice is flat. "You mean you should have stayed away from me."
"That's not what I—"
