Page 27 of Connor (Total Sinners #2)

Connor

Summer’s curled into me. My arm still draped over her waist, my palm pressed against the soft skin of her stomach. It’s a thoughtless thing, something I must have done in my sleep.

Because for the first time, I really saw it.

The bump.

It’s small, barely there, but it’s there. Real.

That’s my kid. Our kid.

My pulse hammered in my ears as my fingers flexed slightly, brushed over the curve of her stomach.

The heat of it seeped into my skin, and fuck—fuck—this wasn’t just some abstract concept anymore.

This wasn’t just Summer saying she’s pregnant, or Vic swinging at me because I knocked up his sister, or North rolling his eyes. This was real.

And I haven’t been acting like it.

I’ve spent so much time fighting everything.

But Summer’s right. Vic was right. North was right.

Even Quinn, who can’t fucking stand me, was right.

I needed to grow the fuck up. I needed to start acting like someone who deserved to be here, someone who deserved to be in this kid’s life. Someone who deserved her.

Because I’ve spent too many years looking for something to numb me—women, alcohol, fights, running away. Always running. But there was no running from this. No escaping the weight of what I’ve done. What I’ve created.

And for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to run.

I just wanted to be better.

Summer shifted slightly. She murmured something in her sleep, her body pressed closer to mine. Like she felt it too. And fuck, my heart was hurting with how much I wanted this. How much I needed this.

No more fucking up.

I pressed my lips to her temple, inhaled the soft and familiar scent of her before whispering, "Time to wake up, sunshine."

She groaned as she buried her face in my chest. "No."

"Yes. You’re going to be late for your classes."

She grumbled something I can’t hear, but I caught the way her lips twitch. That alone made me feel something unfamiliar.

Something like hope.

She finally peeked at me, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and fuck, she’s so goddamn beautiful I almost forget what I’m supposed to do. Almost.

Then she blinked, her brows furrowing slightly. "You’re still here?"

That hit somewhere deep. And it fucking killed me that she had to ask.

"Yeah, baby," I brushed my thumb over her hip. "I’m still here."

Her expression flickered —like she doesn’t know whether to believe me or not. I pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and slid out of bed.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

That woke her up fast.

"What?"

"You heard me."

She’s sitting up now, watching me like I just said I was planning to rob a bank. "I would love anything you make."

***

Twenty minutes later, she was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, watching me like I’m some kind of alien.

"I love when you cook."

I smirk, flipping the eggs.

She snorted but sat down at the counter. Eggs, toast, bacon—simple, but delicious.

I grabbed my own plate and leaned against the counter.

"Mhhhmmmm."

I grinned. "That good?"

I chuckled, shook my head as I took a bite. She kept eating, still watching me, still wary, like she’s waiting for me to fuck it up somehow. And I got it. I really did.

I’ve given her every reason to doubt me.

But I was ot going to let her doubt me anymore.

After breakfast, I helped her grab her things for school, and tossed her bag over my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Connor," she started. "I can carry my own bag—"

"I got it," I say simply.

She stared at me for a second. It was so fucking domestic, I almost laughed.

But I liked it.

I loved it, actually.

I walked her to my car, opened the door for her without thinking. She slid in, while she was still watching me like she was waiting for the catch. L

I hated that I’ve made her feel like that.

I got in, started the engine, and started driving. We pulled up in front of the university, and I put the car in park.

"I’ll be home by dinner."

She blinked, startled. "What?"

"What? You think I was just gonna disappear?"

She pressed her lips together like she didn’t want to admit that, yeah, she kind of did.

I leaned in, pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. "I’m not running anymore, Summer."

She still didn’t say anything.

But when she got out, she hesitated for half a second. And I saw a faint smile across her face.

My chest ached.

Because fuck, maybe that wasn’t much.

But it was something.

And I would take every little something I could get. I was a complete asshole to her all this time and I must win her back. It is my duty as a man, as a father to be and as a man who fell in love with the most kind and beautiful woman there is.

With one last glance at the entrance, I pulled away from the curb and head toward home. Mom was getting out of the hospital today, and it’s time I faced my childhood home.

***

I pulled into the driveway of the house I grew up in. It looked smaller than I remember. Or maybe I just grew up. Either way, it was unsettling to see after spending so much time trying to forget about it.

The windows were dark, the paint was faded, and the porch sagged slightly—like the house suffered just as much as the people who lived inside it.

I killed the engine and came out. My boots hit the pavement with a dull thud, and the sound grounded me. Taking a deep breath, I headed toward the door, pushing it open without knocking.

Aiden was already inside, and by the look of things, he was sorting through boxes in the living room.

He didn’t look up when I entered, but must’ve known I was there. "Took you long enough," he muttered, pulling a box off the shelf and setting it down with a heavy thud.

"Nice to see you too, asshole," I shot back, shutting the door behind me.

He finally glanced up, his expression unreadable.

"Mom’s in the kitchen," he said, nodding toward the back of the house.

I nodded, my stomach twisting as I walked through the hall, past the scars in the walls, past the memories I wished I could erase.

I found Mom standing by the counter, a half-empty cup of tea in her hands. She looked up when I entered, and for a moment, she just stared.

Then, slowly, she smiled.

"Hey, baby," she murmured.

I cleared my throat, rubbing at the back of my neck. "Hey, Mom."

I expected her to comment. To lecture me, to sigh in that oh, Connor kind of way she always did. But she didn’t.

Instead, she set her cup down and stepped closer, lifting a hand to my face.

I froze.

Her fingers brushed over the bruises gently, like she was trying to fix something she couldn’t. Her expression changed, her mouth pressing into a thin line.

"You got into another fight," she said, but it wasn’t really a question.

"Not really," I muttered.

Her brow lifted, and I sighed, shifting my weight. "Vic punched me."

A pause. Then— "I see."

She didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask why. Didn’t push. Because she already knew. Her hand dropped, and she stepped back, exhaling as she looked around the kitchen.

"I’m leaving this place behind," she said quietly. "For good, this time."

I swallowed hard. It was weird, hearing her say it out loud. "Where are you gonna go?" I asked.

"Aiden’s helping me find a new apartment. Something small. Safe."

I nodded. It was the right call. Still, standing in this house, in this place—I could feel it. The past, wrapping around my throat, whispering all the old doubts, the old fears, the old version of me.

"You’re not staying," she said suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts.

I blinked. "What?"

She turned to me, her gaze sharp. Knowing. "You’re here now. But you’re not staying."

I crossed my arms. "No, I’m not."

She nodded like she had expected that. "Because of her?"

"Because of both of them," I admitted.

Her lips twitched slightly. Not a full smile, but something close. "Good," she murmured. "That’s good."

I glanced away, swallowing hard. "You think I can do this?" I asked quietly.

She didn’t hesitate. "I know you can."

I huffed a humorless laugh. "You have a lot more faith in me than I do, Mom."

She shrugged. "Then borrow some of mine."

Something in my chest clenched.

She patted my arm, stepping past me, heading toward the boxes Aiden had stacked in the corner. I watched her go, my mind still a mess, my emotions tangled into something too complicated to unravel right now.

But one thing was clear. This place didn’t own me anymore.

I turned, heading back into the living room, where Aiden was still sorting through shit, muttering under his breath.

"You ready?" he asked without looking up.

I nodded.

"Yeah," I said. "Let’s get this done."

And for the first time in a long fucking time, I meant it.