I let out a sigh, feeling the tension leave my shoulders, and put down my beer. For now, the game was over—the pretending like we both didn’t want what we wanted.
I knew what happened now. I’d know exactly where I’d find her too. Waiting for me a few doors down from The Wharf. Her red hair billowing in the wind, those bottomless green eyes drinking me in as I walked toward her.
Stopping right in front of her, I cupped her face in my hand. She pressed her cheek to it, closing her eyes. A tear slid out of the corner of her eye, then another, pooling between her cheek and my palm. I brushed the third tear away, then pressed my lips tenderly to hers.
I kissed her softly. I hadn’t had a chance to taste her lips in weeks, but this kiss wasn’t about that, it was to comfort her. She sighed, her arms slipping around my waist. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, and she rested her head against my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Connor,” I said quietly, feeling her shake and tremble in my arms, the dam bursting.
She let herself cry in my arms for only a minute, but I held her tight, wishing I could take away her hurt and bring back her smile. Death was hard though. Especially for people who felt as deeply as Connor did.
I took her hand, holding it while we walked. Neither of us spoke, the only sound was our feet crunching the mixture of old snow and sand on the sidewalk and our breaths mixing with the cool night air.
There was so much to say, but neither one of us seemed to have the energy to say it. Connor looked ready to pass out as she walked.
I’d thought about getting a room at the inn in town, but I figured that’d be more scandalous than sneaking Connor in through the garage. Mom was sleeping, but the innkeepers were wide awake.
My mom’s house was a short walk from the downtown core, as most things in this tiny town were. I tried not to think too deeply about what I was about to do, or about the fact Connor had been fourteen last time she’d been in this space.
We entered through the separate entrance off the garage, sneaking down the basement steps until we were in the rec room. The house was dark and silent, and we wordlessly disappeared into my bedroom. I closed the door behind us, locking it. Connor’s hand slipped from mine.
I used to do this all the time in high school—sneak girls in. It made me feel like I was already a rock star, to have the band set up in the garage and my “pad” right off it. I’d loved the privacy, especially when I started bringing girls down.
I’d gotten away with a lot of shit that most kids my age probably wouldn’t have, but I had a lot of at home responsibilities too.
My mom was a single parent with no living relatives, she had to work full time to provide for us, so she trained me at a young age to be the perfect roommate. She had a list of rules and expectations, and she always knew if I hadn’t done something.
When I was younger, she worked days at the hospital and enrolled me in music lessons after school with the friend of her father—who just so happened to be the grandpa of my best friend. It kept me out of trouble and taught me discipline and drive.
She’d transitioned to nights when I was fifteen years old, because the pay was better. She didn’t argue when I asked if we could try to turn the basement into my room.
My mom wasn’t naïve, and I knew she knew I was up to no good with all the freedom she allotted me. But her motto was so long as I was being responsible and washing my own sheets, she didn’t need to know about it.
Connor was supposed to fall under that category—the things she didn’t need to know about. But my mother suspectedsomeonehad a hold of my heart, and her curiosity was growing.
I’d lusted after Connor for three years before I caved. The whole time I warred with my attraction in secret, I’d felt like I was wrong for it. For wanting her when I should have seen her the way I used to, as my best friend’s kid sister.
But Connor wasn’t a kid, and I no longer felt my feelings for her were wrong. They’d evolved like the both of us had. I’d wanted to go public for a while, but it seemed like anytime I got the courage to have the conversation about coming clean about what we really meant to each other, something would happen. Granted, nothing as big as this—Calum’s secret kid, a death of someone we all loved—but still.
Connor wasn’t ready: she wanted to stay veiled in secrecy, and all I wanted was to give her everything she wanted. The secrets didn’t matter so much, not when she reached for me at her most vulnerable times first. Not when her laughter filled my ears, or when creating music with her was a gift I desperately hoped we’d get to share with the world.
Connor had moved to the end of my bed and was attempting to reach the zipper at the base of her neck. I moved over to her, my hands going to it. I tugged it down, my finger stroking along her spine. She shivered against me, arching her back and rubbing her ass against my groin.
I moved the material over her shoulders, tugging it down her hips. She wore nude nylons that I couldn’t help but run my hands over, the material catching against my callouses.
Connor stepped out of her dress, lifting her chin to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were still watery, but she was biting her lower lip. “Can you just…hold me tonight?”
The vulnerability in her expression nearly brought me to my knees. I pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Of course.”
I gave her a T-shirt and a pair of my boxers to sleep in, then we crawled beneath the blankets of my bed. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me—holding her close. I felt her body trembling as she cried.
It was gut-wrenching, all I wanted to do was ease her pain. But loss was a void I couldn’t fill, all I could do was let her fall apart and hold her through it. Time was the only healing balm for grief.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Connor
Early the next morning,I awoke to Dare’s arms still wrapped around me, though he was fast asleep. I’d curled into him during the night, my hand on his chest. I could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. His expression was serene, his thick golden lashes resting against the top of his cheeks.
