Page 15 of Adonis (Salt and Starlight #1)

Excitement seized Connor’s heart the moment he stirred from his dreams. Wide awake, he pulled himself out of bed and came to a jerking halt as his aching body protested. He groaned. The next day was always worse. Usually, Connor would take it easy and ease his body into the exercise, but he had no intentions of taking a rest day when Adonis was out there. Waiting to… hang out with Connor?

Connor padded across the wooden floor of his bedroom to his dresser, where he tugged a thick hoodie from its hook and pulled it on. He’d left his curtains open like he always did when staying here. Unlike the dorms where his window faced a street, here it was only the ocean. An ocean that put him at ease merely being in his line of sight.

He opened the window; he could barely see the ocean with the faint light from the sky, but he could hear the waves. The soothing, gentle lapping. He let out a relieved breath. The calm weather was holding true. Not that rain would have stopped me, he thought.

Connor moved around the house quietly, making his way into the kitchen and pulling the door shut behind himself to block out the sound of him rustling around. He turned on the kettle and searched the shelves for food. When the door behind him opened, he was taking out tomatoes and cucumber from the fridge.

His gaze darted to the clock above the window, the hands just shy of five a.m., to Trevor as he entered the kitchen. He blinked at Connor, eyes slitted as he shied from the fluorescent lights.

“Good morning,”

Trevor greeted, voice thick with sleep.

“Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s okay,”

Trevor said. He went to the coffeepot next to the kettle and set about brewing a fresh pot. The coffeepot was a new edition. They’d only ever had a kettle in the house, even when Connor’s dad had still lived here. But then again, Connor had been quite young the last time his dad had shared Edith’s bed. Maybe he had a coffee pot and took it with him when he left?

“You’re up early,”

Trevor noted. He leaned against the counter and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m heading out early today,”

Connor told him. Trevor had asked to be informed, and Connor didn’t see any reason to hide that he would be out on the water. So long as he didn’t mention Adonis, of course.

“Is your dad picking you up?”

Trevor asked.

It took Connor a moment to understand the question. “Oh, no. I mean on the water.”

Trevor frowned.

Connor quickly followed up, “I’m still waiting for the social worker to get back to me. Like I said, I’m not too eager to work ahead without knowing if I’m doing it right.”

He was surprised, actually, that it was taking this long for him to receive a response. He knew that government offices could be slow, but even he knew that his case was unique. Connor imagined the experimental punishment the judge had given him would be closely examined to see if it had the desired result. If it “erased”

Connor’s prejudice.

“Oh.”

Trevor’s gaze lingered on the side of his face.

Connor continued with his lunch preparations. “Is it okay if I use the last of these wraps?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,”

Trevor said, still troubled. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

“You don’t have work today?”

“I do, but I can call in a friend to cover for me,”

Trevor said.

“And will they cover for you tomorrow and the day after?”

Connor questioned, beginning to slice his tomatoes. He looked sideways at Trevor to see his defeated look. “You don’t need to worry about me,”

he said. “I’m well able to take care of myself. If I could do it when I was twelve, I can do it at eighteen.”

“You weren’t going out alone at twelve, though,”

Trevor said.

Connor took the iceberg lettuce and sliced through it. There was a long, awkward pause.

“Were you going out alone?”

Trevor asked when Connor didn’t answer.

“Who exactly do you think would have joined me?”

Connor asked him mildly. Discomfort slithered up his spine at Trevor’s line of questioning. The discomfort of being reminded of the loneliness, the forgottenness, of how he’d grown up. “Dad with his work? Mom?”

By that point, she’d despised Connor, thinking he was a rotten boy with a rotten personality. “All of my friends were hundreds of miles away, remember? At boarding school.”

And he had never had friends here. He’d had Sam and ruined that the moment the opportunity presented itself. An opportunity he made with his own hands.

Connor frowned as he cut quickly through the cucumbers. A feeling of exposure overwhelmed him; he’d revealed more than he wanted, and he didn’t like it.

Trevor’s hand covered Connor’s stopping his progress in his tracks. “Here, let me. You’ll cut yourself doing it like that.”

Connor kept his face turned down and stepped over. He put his hands flat on the counter and stared as Trevor sliced through the cucumber skillfully. It was only then he realised the butchering job he’d done to the cucumber. There was a lump in his throat, and he resented the burn at the back of his eyes.

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t let himself. But he hated that he’d let himself get worked up at all. He reminded himself that he didn’t get upset by this anymore. That he accepted his childhood for what it was, and he had moved past it.

It was Trevor’s fault. Because Trevor was an attentive dad who took care of his kids, of course he would find the way Connor had grown up strange.

“What happened to Laurence’s mom? I haven’t heard about her from anyone,”

Connor asked. He saw Trevor working himself up to say something, and he didn’t care to hear whatever heartfelt assurance it was going to be. Not when he was afraid it might push him further toward emotional instability. Not when a kind word would upset him more than a raised voice ever could.

“Hannah,”

Trevor said after a pause. He set down the kitchen knife next to the sliced cucumber.

Connor knew from one glimpse at Trevor’s face that this wouldn’t be a story of a runaway bride or a terrible mother who Trevor had to save his kids from. Connor didn’t want to hear about how Laurence had a perfect mom as well as a dad.

“I don’t want to know, actually,”

Connor said before Trevor could continue. It was a moment of utter weakness. Trevor looked at him, and Connor was caught. “It’s going to be a sad story, isn’t it? I asked because I thought you’d separated. I don’t want to bring up bad memories. It’s too early in the day for that.”

“Seems I was doing the same to you only a moment ago.”

Connor pressed his lips flat together to keep his expression level. “I don’t have any bad memories of being out on the water,” he said.

Trevor’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Hannah passed away giving birth to Laurence. I lost her, and the boys never got the chance to know her, which is…”

He turned and set his back against the counter. “I can’t put into words how that still feels, even now. ‘Sad’ doesn’t do the feeling justice.”

“Of course it doesn’t,”

Connor found himself answering, despite the sharp prickle of pain against his heart. From the moment he’d met Trevor, he’d seemed confident and sure, like someone who’d never had to deal with anything bad happening to him. But the heavy sadness in his eyes now was overwhelming.

“Laurence is a lot like her,”

Trevor said, his voice brightening.

“So she was a spoiled brat?”

Trevor laughed.

Connor released a relieved breath, glad he’d risked voicing the jab. Glad that Trevor understood him enough to know that the remark had been in no way negative.

“I suppose I do spoil Laurence a bit…”

Trevor admitted. “Even if he is wilful, he listens to me. Sometimes.”

He looked sideways at Connor.

“And I don’t?”

Connor interpreted the look. “I’ve always been a troublemaker. Just ask Edith.”

“I’ve heard all about it. And there was the incident with the wedding, which I’ll admit, did throw me a bit,”

Trevor said in good humour. “But now that I’ve met you, I think the issue is more to do with you being too smart for your own good.”

“I’m a smart alec?”

Connor asked, raising his eyebrows at Trevor.

“I mean it literally. You’re too clever, and I can only imagine how you would have run rings around me if I’d been around when you were younger than you are now.”

Connor let out an amused breath. “You’re the first to accuse me of that.”

“Ah ha, I don’t believe that for a second,”

Trevor said, amused. “I’ve seen your school transcripts. You’ve had straight A’s in everything since you started class.”

“And what did the behaviour margins say?”

Connor asked. “I’m always in trouble at school.”

“That you get bored,”

Trevor said. “Rush through the work to read whatever book you’ve brought with you. And no matter how often you’ve been told otherwise, you refuse to do anything else.”

Connor let out an amused breath. He knew that there was far more than that written in the margins; his mom made sure he knew how exasperating all his teachers found him. “I do listen to you, by the way. But I’m not going to do what you say if it’s unreasonable.”

“Not going out alone on the water is unreasonable?”

“For me? Very.”

“If I get you another phone, one that you bring out on the water, can you message me updates? Just to say that you’re okay? I know this might feel heavy-handed to you, but I really will feel more at ease,”

Trevor asked him, his expression open and coaxing as if to will Connor to agree with him.

“Fine.”

Connor couldn’t say no to the earnest request, and it wasn’t like it would take much effort on his part.