Page 10 of Connor (Total Sinners #2)

Summer

The can of ginger ale sweated against my palm, condensation dripping onto my fingers, but I barely felt it. My stomach was still a mess, my head pounding, but none of it had anything to do with the nausea. Quinn and North knew.

I hadn’t said anything, but somehow, they still knew—and just like that, all the tension and remorse about what happened two summers ago was gone.

I had my friend back again, and she refused to leave me in that bathroom stall.

She brought me home, not forcing me to admit it even as she told North to call Connor.

Not Vic.

Connor.

And now he was coming.

I forced a sip of the ginger ale, but it tasted like metal. The bubbles burned down my throat, but nothing settled. My fingers flexed around the can. Quinn sat across from me, curled into the far end of the couch, scrolling through her phone like she hadn’t just been forced into playing babysitter.

North was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. Watching. Waiting. He hadn’t said anything since he ended the call, but he didn’t have to.

I knew exactly what he was thinking. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have chosen this school. And I definitely shouldn’t have let my legs carry me into that goddamn diner, because if I’d known—I would what? What would I have done?

God, I didn’t even know. The weight of it settled on my chest, pressing, crushing. My stomach clenched harder.

"You're holding that can like you're about to crush it," Quinn muttered, not looking up from her phone.

"I’m fine," I lied.

Quinn’s laugh was hollow. "Yeah? You didn’t look fine when you sprinted to the bathroom like you were running from a murder scene."

North said nothing, but I could feel his eyes on me. Assessing. Calculating.

He wasn’t stupid. Quinn wasn’t, either. I had maybe five minutes before Connor got here, and I had no idea what was going to happen when he did. Would he be angry ? Would he be hurt ? Would he tear through the door, eyes burning, teeth gritted, voice sharp enough to leave me in ribbons?

I didn’t know. And that was the problem.

I shifted, trying to get comfortable, but the couch felt too soft, the tension crackling.

Quinn sighed and finally set her phone down, tilting her head. "You want to tell us what the hell is going on?"

I stiffened. "Nothing’s going on."

She scoffed. "Right. So you just happened to be puking your guts out in a diner bathroom, pale as a ghost, looking like you were one second away from passing out?"

I swallowed. My stomach twisted again, and for a moment, I was terrified I’d have to bolt for the bathroom a second time.

Quinn’s gaze flicked to North, then back to me. They were waiting. For the lie. For the cracks. For me to admit it. I looked away, forcing another sip of the ginger ale. "I just wasn’t feeling well."

"Try again," North said, his voice low, unreadable.

The bubbles burned all the way down. My heart beat too fast, thudding against my ribs like it was trying to escape. I squeezed my eyes shut.

I wasn’t ready.

BANG.

The first knock made me flinch. A heartbeat passed. Then—BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The entire door rattled in its frame, the aggression behind it vibrating through the floor, sinking into my bones.

“NORTH!” Connor’s voice slammed through the apartment, sharp and vicious , and my stomach dropped.

I was halfway to putting the can of ginger ale on the table, but hearing his voice had it slipping from my fingers. It hit the coffee table with a sharp clatter, but I didn’t move to grab it. My pulse roared. My vision blurred. I wasn’t ready for this.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Where the hell are you? Fucking open up!" he snarled. I grabbed the couch cushion, every muscle locking up.

North was already moving, his steps slow and deliberate as he crossed the room. Quinn stiffened beside me, her phone forgotten.

Connor slammed his fist against the door again, the entire apartment vibrating with the impact. "I swear to fucking God, North, if you don’t open this fucking door in the next three seconds—"

North twisted the lock. The second the latch clicked, the door flew open—slamming against the wall with a deafening crack.

Connor stood in the doorway.

Wrecked. Wild. Livid.

His chest heaved, his breathing harsh and ragged, his green eyes burning with something lethal. hHe was barely keeping himself from tearing the entire place apart.

His gaze flicked to North first. Then to Quinn. Then—to me. His entire body went still. And in that moment, I knew. I was so, so fucked.