Page 28 of Connor

"Because this family has been broken for far too long, Connor, and I should’ve done something about it sooner. Because when my baby comes home smelling like random women, I want him to be able to tell me why he’s acting like his heart’s broken."

My heart stopped. Heart broken? As fucking if.

I barked out a laugh, opening my mouth to speak—but I couldn’t. What was there to say?. "How does going home fix that?" How long would it take her to realize that it only ever got worse when she went back?

Summer was silent. I let go of the suitcase handle, and it hit the floor with a hollow thud. I didn’t move for a second. Didn’t speak. But something inside me cracked. I was done.

“Stay,” I warned Mom before turning toward the door, already reaching in my pocket for my cell phone.

“Connor,” she sighed, but I was already shaking my head.

“No. Just stay, I’ll fix this.”

I had to.

My hands were shaking as I scrolled through my contacts to find Aiden’s name and number. My pulse hammered against my skull, my mind spinning, searching, scrambling for something—anything—to fix this.

I needed Aiden. I needed him here. Now. He was older than me. He was better at this. The phone rang. Once. Twice.

Pick up, damnnit.

Three times.

"Come on, Aiden," I muttered under my breath, pacing near the curb.

Voicemail.

"Fuck!"

I ended the call and immediately dialed again. Ringing. Again. No answer. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, in my skull, in the backs of my eyes. The reality of it hit hard. She was really gonna go. She was really gonna walk out that door, willingly, just to fix my mess.

My own mother thought I was too far gone to help myself. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing through the anger, the helplessness, the suffocating fucking guilt. No. I could fix this. I had to.

Maybe if I—

Maybe if I just—

Think, Connor.

If I could convince Aiden to come home, maybe she’d stay. Maybe she’d believe we could be a family again. Because that’s what this was really about, wasn’t it? She thought she had nothing left here. She thought I was incapable of making responsible decisions..

Jesus.

I swallowed hard, staring at my phone like it might suddenly give me the answers I didn’t have.

She wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. The drinking. The women. The self-destruction. It wasn’t just a bad phase. It was me, running myself into the fucking ground, and for what? To spite my father? To forget about Summer?

I sucked in a slow breath. My fingers hovered over my contacts again, scrolling to Aiden’s name. One more time. The phone rang. Twice. Then—finally—he picked up.

"Connor?" His voice was sharp, alert. "What’s wrong?"

"Where are you?"

A pause. Too long. Then, "Connor—"

"Don’t fucking ‘Connor’ me," I snapped, my voice edged with something too raw, too desperate. "Just answer the goddamn question."

Another beat of silence. Then a quiet sigh.