Page 24 of Connor (Total Sinners #2)

Summer

I woke up feeling like hell.

My eyes were puffy, my limbs heavy, my heart a slow, aching thing in my chest. Sleep had been a joke—tossing, turning, fighting off the weight of last night. Fighting off the truth I wasn’t ready to face.

Victor had punched Connor. Connor had let him. And I had stood there, letting them rip each other apart, while I cried in the other room.

I dragged myself out of bed. My body was stiff, my muscles tight, but I ignored it. I needed to get out of this room.

I’d fallen asleep in my a maternity bra and panties.

It was the most comfortable thing when you were sweaty and exhausted.

So before I left the room, I put on the first thing I could find—a tank top and some sweatpants.

I didn’t care. I just needed air, needed something to distract myself from the fucking mess that had become my life.

The moment I opened my bedroom door, I heard them. Voices. Low, sharp, heated. They were in the kitchen. Still arguing. For fuck’s sake.

I stormed down the hall, my pulse thudding in my ears, irritation curling hot under my skin. Hadn’t I made myself clear last night? I stepped into the kitchen just in time to hear Victor say— “You really think you can just sit here like you belong?”

Connor scoffed. “Jesus, Vic, I’m not trying to—”

Then Victor’s eyes turned to me. He was rubbing at his face, dark circles under his eyes pointing out how little sleep he’d had.

But I saw when he looked at my stomach, and it felt like the whole world stopped turning for a second.

The anger melted into something else. “Vic?” I started, confused by the way his gaze had zeroed in on me.

Or more specifically—on my stomach. My stomach.

Fuck. The baby belly. I wasn’t wearing a hoodie like last night, so it was more visible.

The oversized sweaters, the loose-fitting clothes I’d been hiding behind were still in my room.

And now? Now there was nothing to conceal the truth.

Victor’s face twisted. His jaw locked, his eyes burning with something wild and unforgiving. Then— He lunged at Connor.

“You got my sister fucking pregnant?”

Connor barely had time to react before Victor’s fist collided with his nose. The sound—sharp, brutal, raw—cracked through the kitchen. Connor stumbled back, his head jerking to the side, blood spraying. But he didn’t fight back.

He just wiped his mouth, and braced for more. Even I could tell my brother wasn’t done.

“You piece of shit!” he roared, going for him again, his fury uncontainable.

“Vic, stop!” I screamed, my voice piercing.

But neither of them listened.

Victor shoved Connor, his rage blistering, his body vibrating with pure, unfiltered wrath.

“Say something!” he snapped at Connor. “Fucking say something, you goddamn coward!”

Connor didn’t argue. He didn’t defend himself, and he didn’t deny it, and that? That only made Victor angrier.

I felt sick as I watched them. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. My hands were shaking. My breath was uneven. And I couldn’t fucking think.

They were still fighting, still throwing words at each other, but I didn’t hear them. All I heard was the roaring in my ears, the sound of my own pulse pounding, the way my entire body felt like it was shutting down.

I couldn’t do this.

“Both of you, get the fuck out.”

The words came out cracked, and that seemed to get their attention.

Victor snapped his head toward me, his chest still heaving. Connor wiped his bleeding lip, his shoulders tense but resigned. Neither of them moved. Neither of them listened.

I lost it.

“Did you fucking hear me?” My voice shook, my vision blurring with rage and exhaustion. “I said GET OUT!”

Victor looked at me like he couldn’t believe it. Like I was taking Connor’s side just because I didn’t want to watch them tear each other apart.

“Summer, he—”

“I don’t care!” I cut him off, shoving past them,. “I don’t fucking care! You don’t get to do this, Vic. Not in my home.”

His nostrils flared, his jaw locked. “He knocked you up, and you expect me to just fucking let that slide?”

“Yes!” I shot back, my voice cracking. “Because this isn’t your problem.”

Connor stiffened beside me. But I couldn’t look at him.

I couldn’t breathe.

Victor tugged at his collar, looking like he wanted to argue, fight, punch something else. His lips pressing into a thin, furious line.

“Fine.” His voice was rough, dark, edged in betrayal.

Then, before I could say anything else, he stormed out, slamming the door so hard behind him that the walls rattled.

Connor didn’t move.

He just stood there, his knuckles still bloody, his expression unreadable. Waiting. For what? For me to say something? For me to tell him that I was okay? I wouldn’t, because that was a lie, and I didn’t owe him one. Regardless of how he was feeling.

“You too.” My voice came out quieter this time, but no less sharp.

His brows furrowed. “Summer—”

“Get out, Connor.”

I turned, walked into my room, and slammed the door right in his face.

A few seconds later, I heard the front door open. Then close.

And just like that, I was alone.

***

I wasn’t sure how I got to the library. The whole day was a blur.

One second, I was standing in my room, trying to catch my breath. The next, I was on autopilot—showering, dressing, grabbing my bag.

The air outside had been too sharp, too heavy, and my phone had been blowing up with missed calls from Victor, Connor, and Quinn.

I ignored them all. Now, I sat at a corner table in the library, my textbooks spread in front of me. But I wasn’t reading. I was staring at the words on the page, but not really seeing them.

Because my mind? It wasn’t here. It was back in my apartment. Still replaying the fight and hearing Victor’s voice, raw and furious. Still feeling Connor’s hesitation. The way he just stood there, silent. The way he let me kick him out without a fight.

I was getting so fucking tired of being the responsible one.

I was so fucking tired of his non-reactions, and how he always run away instead of staying to fight for what he wanted.

If he even wanted me, because with the way things were going, I wasn’t sure about that anymore either.

For a while, I thought things were getting better.

I thought maybe—just maybe—he was in this. But someone who stayed quiet, who didn’t fight back when they were getting accused of something? He’d just let Victor beat him up, not doing or saying anything both times until I did something about it.

The chair across from me scraped against the floor and I looked up. For a second, I thought I was imagining things. Because Quinn was sitting down, pulling out her books, flipping open a notebook.

Like this was just another study session.

Like this was how it had always been.

I blinked. “Quinn?”

“You’d never guess who showed up at my place this morning,” she murmured, her eyes speculative. I didn’t have to guess, I already knew it was either one or both of the fucking idiots I kicked out.

“There was a whole lot of fighting, but I guess you already know about that.” I didn’t respond and she shrugged.

“Let’s just say it made me late for class and now I have a new assignment to finishbefore the end of the week so I came to the library. Saw you… and figured, if we’re both miserable, we might as well do it together. A nice little pity party slash study session.”

Things between us hadn’t been normal in a year. But now? Now she was here. Acting like it was nothing.

I swallowed hard. Nodded.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice a little too soft. “That’d be nice.”

And for the first time in a long time, it actually felt like the truth.