Page 100

Fifty-two
Conner
As a closeted over-thinker, this has been a rough couple of hours.
I shouldn’t have said it.
Logically, I know she can’t stay.
Won’t stay.
This isn’t her life anymore and no matter what she says, she can’t just walk away from them.
Her mother.
Bradford.
Even if I discount the obscene amount of money she’s been drowning in for the past eight years, even if I accept that she does love me, and that she finally believes me when I tell her I love her, nothing has really changed for her. She’s still Henley. She still thinks it’s her personal responsibility to take care of her family. That she’s the only one who can.
The ugly truth of it is if she does love me, want to stay with me, that makes me the low man on the totem pole. Henley has never made her own wants and needs a priority.
Except when she’s rejecting you. Pushing you away… so maybe it’s not her own wants and needs that don’t rank. Maybe it’s just you—huh, fuckface? Maybe she just doesn’t think you’re worth the risk.
Swiping a rough hand over my face, I start to sit up. Pull away from her. It’s how I survive. Keep myself together. I pretend that she’s right about me. That they all are. That I’m just another blue-collar local, graced with good genetics and loose morals. The guy who winks and grins and fucks his way through life without giving a shit about the path of destruction he leaves in his wake.
But that’s not who I am.
I’ve never been that guy.
Never really wanted to be.
Being with Henley, then and now, showed me that. Showed me that I was more. That being who I really am is okay. That I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.
That’s why she’s dangerous.
Because she makes me want things I can’t have. Be someone I can’t be.
Not without her.
As soon as she feels my weight shift beside her on the mattress, her arm tightens around my waist and she raises her head from my chest, frowning slightly. “Con—”
“Thirsty,” I say, letting her pull me closer, angling my head to catch her mouth with mine, ignoring the twinge in my chest when she sighs against it when we part. “You need anything?”
She shakes her head, letting it fall against the pillow we were sharing, her eyes slipping closed. “Just you.”
Fuck.
She doesn’t know what she’s saying.
She doesn’t mean it.
Remember that, genius.
Finding my pants, I pull them on, zipping up on my way out the door. Shutting it softly behind me, I take a quick trip to the bathroom before hitting the back stairs that feed directly into the kitchen. The light is on. Seeing it slows my stride. Sticks me in place. Brings back memories.
“If you come down here, I can’t promise you it won’t be awkward.” My mom’s voice floats up the stairs to meet me, making me smile. “But I can promise I won’t give you the talk.”
Laughing softly, I take the rest of the stairs, landing in the kitchen to find her at the table in her bathrobe, looking up at me, a mug of tea sitting in front of her. “Why are you awake?” I say, dropping a kiss on top of her head as I head to the cabinet to pull out a mug of my own.