Page 96

Fifty
Conner
Once I knew what I was looking for, it was relatively easy to find.
A way to keep Henley.
A way for us to be together.
It took me less than ten minutes, but I‘ve spent the last several hours reviewing case law to make sure the argument will hold up in court.
I will. I know it will.
I should be doing goddamned backflips.
I should be pounding on her door, copy of Bradford’s trust fund provisions in hand, so I can show her what I found. A way for Jeremy to get his billions without her having to marry him.
Instead, I’m just sitting here, scared shitless. Not because now that I can finally have her, I’m afraid of what that might look like, but because what if, with all the roadblocks and bullshit out of the way, she still doesn’t want me.
Still doesn’t choose me.
I’m at my parent’s house because that’s where I keep the bulk of my law books. It’s late, almost eleven on a Wednesday night but I can hear my mom downstairs in the kitchen. My Da watching SportCenter. Six months ago, he would’ve been behind the bar, pouring dollar shots for a couple hundred drunk college kids, but since he’s signed the place over to Patrick, he’s been easing himself out, bit by bit. Makes me think maybe we do need to hire someone on, a few shifts a week. Give us all a bit of breathing room. Logan would be—
“I didn’t know you wear glasses.”
I feel my gut clench at the sound of her voice and look up to find Henley standing in the doorway of my old bedroom. She’s wearing the same thing she had on this afternoon—dark jeans topped with a cream-colored sweater. Brown leather, lace-up boots with a heavy tread. Cheeks and nose red from the cold. Looking at me like she expects an answer.
“Uhhh…” I reach up and snag my reading glasses by their bridge and pull them off my face, looking at them like I’ve never seen then before. “Yeah. When I’m reading microscopic law text, I do.” I toss them on my desk and try to smile. “What are you doing here?” I say, turning in my seat.
“Looking for you.” She aims a quick look over her shoulder before refocusing on me. “Can I come in?”
I nod, watching as she slips across the threshold, closing the door behind her. Looking at her, all I can think about is the first time she was here. The way she pushed her way into my room despite my protests. How panicked I felt, having her that close. Being alone with her.
“Your mom said it was okay.” She smiles, remembering the same thing I am. “And that she and your dad are heading to bed.”
I stand, my face crumpling into a frown. “How’d you know I was here?”
“I checked your place, but you weren’t home, so I decided to try Gilroy’s, but then I saw your light on…” She suddenly looks uncomfortable. Unsure. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” I take a step forward before I can stop myself. I shake my head, easing back a bit. “I want you to tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I…” Her gaze drops to my shoulder. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. Again.” She sighs. Shrugs. “Jeremy just showed up out of nowhere. “I had no idea—”
“You don’t owe me an apology or an explanation.” I cut her off because I don’t want to talk about her fiancé, despite the fact he’s all I can think about. “It was just lunch. Not a big deal.”
“Why do you always do that?” Her voice is suddenly loud. Sharp.
“Do what?” I keep my voice low. Even. Maybe she’ll get the picture and tone it down a bit. My parents’ room is down the hall. The last thing I need is them to hear us arguing.
She shakes her head at me. “Act like you don’t care.” Thankfully she takes the hint and keeps her voice down. “Like this doesn’t matter.”
“This matters, Henley,” I say, my jaw suddenly tight. “Trust me. It fucking matters.”
She laughs, rocking back on her heels so she can see my face. “You could’ve fooled me.”
“What do you want to hear?” Whatever it is, I’ll say it. Whatever she wants, I’ll give it to her. “That every time I think about you wearing that asshole’s ring, I have an inexplicable urge to put my head through the nearest wall? Or how about I almost murdered him when he kissed you this afternoon? Is that it?” I take another step toward her, closing the distance between us so quickly, she doesn’t have time to move away from me before I put my hands on her, closing them around her arms to pull her even closer. “Or, that every time I think I might be gaining ground with you, you always find a reason to push me away and somehow, you manage to make it my fault. Or maybe you want to hear about how, even though I know how this is all going to end, I can’t stay away from you because it’s too late. I’m fucking done. I was done the minute you walk back into my life. Is that what you want to hear? Does knowing how fucked up I am over you make you feel better?”
“I never wanted that.” She stares at up me, stunned. How we keep surprising each other, I’ll never understand. “I never meant to hurt you.” Her gaze falls to my neck, the intricate knot inked into it. Lower, grazing the point of the tattooed heart peeking past the collar of my shirt. “I always imagined you happy. That I’d been forgotten as soon as I left. That you’d moved on.”