Thinking about the store makes the knot tighten and sink. As it moves down my body, it splinters and each splinter knots again. And again.
As always, talking about Havi makes me feel really off. Disoriented and strange. My ears ring and I feel like I did when I was a kid and gamed for too long.
“What happened to the store?” asks Connor. “Did you guys sell it?”
“No. Havi…uh, he just fucked off and left me to handle everything. I couldn’t deal, so I got a manager. It’s still ticking along, but just… I just can’t really be there right now.”
“He just left? What the hell? I can’t believe he bailed on you like that.” He shakes his head in the closest thing to disgust he can muster. Not disgust, really, that’s too strong. Displeasure, more than disgust. But I know displeasure is a lot, coming from Connor, because he usually gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, so it pleases me. “Must have been some fight.”
A storm of emotion gathers, rising and expanding so quickly it threatens to spray out of my ears. Guilt, confusion, disbelief, anger, and more guilt. “It was.”
I brace for him to ask me what the fight was about. That’s what everyone does. My mom. My dad. Caroline. All my friends from my previous life.
Connor doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t say anything.
At first, I’m relieved, but as the minutes tick by, relief morphs into something that’s crazy, even for me: disappointment.
When I’m able to do so, I meet his eyes. They’re sea green and steady. An ocean becalmed. He holds my gaze, still silent, until I’m left with no doubt about why he’s not asking.
He knows.
He doesn’t have to ask because he already knows.
“It must have been really hard for both of you.” His voice is soft and soothing, smooth with a gentle baritone purr.
A wave of heat rises in me, cresting in my chest and rushing up my neck. I wipe a bead of sweat off my upper lip, suddenly intensely aware that I’m overheating. I tug at my collar and hurriedly unbutton a couple of buttons, flapping the shirt to give myself some air.
“How did you know?” I ask, though I’m not sure when I decided to ask the question.
He smiles easily, but without humor. “You’re beautiful, Lennon, and you’re a good person. It would be hard for anyone who’s into guys to be close to you and not be crazy about you.”
Guilt strikes again, this time stabbing deep between my ribs.
“I’m not a good person,” I say stiffly.
His smile changes. It still lacks humor, but it’s laced with certainty, and something that looks like total honesty. “Yeah, you are.”
I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to get drawn into a conversation that opens a can of worms I can’t close. I’ve done that many, many times with people who know me a lot better than Connor does, and all it does is make me feel like I’m losing my mind. The problem is, his honesty gets me. The openness in his eyes. The lack of pressure. The lack of prying. It all rolls into a ball and loosens my tongue.
“No, I’m not. The thing with Havi… I handled it badly. It was my fault things went down like they did.”
25
Lennon
Asmoothvoicefindsme in the dark, wrenching me from a dead sleep. “Lennon.”
“Huh?” I say loudly. “What’s happening?”
I reach around on my nightstand, instinctively more than intentionally, trying to find my phone, as though the device will shed some light as to why I’ve been woken in the middle of the night.
Before I’m successful in my quest, my lamp flicks on, and glassy shades of blue paint pictures all over Connor.
“The fuck?” I splutter. He’s in my room, standing next to my bed, dressed, and looking pleased with himself.
“Told you I’d wake you for the sunrise,” he says matter-of-factly.
It’s true. He told me several times over the past week and a half, since I moved in, that this would happen. But I told him just as many times that it wouldn’t.
