Page 79 of Connor

I should have said something.

Should have asked what this meant. Should have pushed for something more, something I could hold onto, something that told me this wasn’t just another moment in a long line of almosts.

But instead, I just whispered, "Okay."

Connor exhaled, his forehead still pressed against mine. I felt the way his body softened, just slightly, like I had given him permission to breathe. Like I had given both of us permission.

I lifted a hand, hesitating only a second before I pressed my palm against his bare chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong beneath my fingers. I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

"I’m scared."

The words barely made it past my lips, but I felt the way his muscles tensed.

"Me too," he admitted, voice gruff.

I let out a quiet, shaky laugh, my throat tight. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His fingers trailed down my jaw, slow, thoughtful. "But I meant what I said, Summer. I’m here."

I searched his face, looking for any trace of hesitation, any sign that this was just another fleeting promise. But all I saw was him. His green eyes locked on mine, unwavering.

I believed him.

For the first time, I really believed him.

And that? That was almost scarier than him leaving.

Because if he meant it—if he was really staying—then I had to let go of the version of him I had been clinging to for so long. The version that left. The version that didn’t care. The version that was easier to hate.

I had to let this Connor in.

The one who had been showing up. The one who was trying. The one who wasn’t perfect but wanted to be better.

And maybe… maybe I was finally ready to let myself want that, too.

I swallowed hard, pressing my face into the warm skin of his neck. His scent wrapped around me, that mix of soap and something inherently him. My fingers curled against his chest, gripping him like I was afraid he’d slip away.

But he didn’t.

Connor held me.

His arms wrapped around me, solid, unyielding, anchoring me to him. His lips pressed to the top of my head, lingering there, his breath slow, steady.

And for the first time in a long time—maybe ever—I let myself believe this didn’t have to end in heartbreak.

Maybe, for once, I could let myself hope.

Chapter 25

Connor

I didn’t sleep much anymore.

Not because of the nightmares, or the ghosts I’d spent years chasing at the bottom of a bottle.

Not because I was restless, or angry, or trying to fight my way out of a life I didn’t know how to belong to.

I didn’t sleep because I didn’t want to.