Page 32 of What Lies Within

He rears back as though I physically struck him. "This?" He scoffs. "This is what happens when you hurt me, Rae. So maybe if you weren't such a fucking bitch, I wouldn't be this way."

"A bitch for what? Moving on? Knowing a dead thing when I saw it?" I chuckle, fingers grappling for the hilt of a knife I saw beneath a stack of papers earlier. "Pardon the pun."

"I was ready to forgive you?—"

"For what?" I cry out. "Forgive me for what, Connor? What the fuck did I do other than try to love you?"

"Try." He laughs at the word. "You did love me, Rae. At least, that's how it looked from where I was." He motions holding me across his hips, and thrusts twice.

"Christ. You want to know the difference between you and them out there?" I swipe up what I realize is a letter opener, using it to gesture toward the door. Connor's eyes widen."They'remen, Connor. Not fucking jealous little boys. They know how to respect someone. How to make them feel wanted. Notusedbut wanted."

"I do want you," he roars. "What the fuck is this? Me here? If not me fucking wanting you?" His voice cracks on the last word, arms dropping to his sides with a slap.

"You don't wantme," I explain. "You want the promise of what I am."

I've had time to think about this, to realize why the man's so damn obsessed with having me in his possession. Yeah, we had great sex. Like, off the charts intense. But there was never a connection. Even now, as I stare into his saddened eyes, I see it—we're friends. I care about the shit situation he's in, and he wants to help me through mine. But we're no good for each other. We never were.

We don't complete each other. We enable more of the same.

"I'm sorry." I take a step closer; blade lowered at my side but not forgotten. "But if you can't see that the only appeal I have for you is that I make your father angry, then you've got some deep work to do, Connor."

He drops onto the closest sofa with a sigh. "Shit, Rae." He scrubs an inked hand over his head, gaze distant. "I mean..." Another sigh, more laden than the last.

"What happens when the heat dies down?" I ask, edging closer still. "What happens when your dad dies? When it's just you and me? Have you pictured that?"

He lifts his chin, spearing me with a pitiful look that would make the most hardened heart soften.

"You haven't, have you? Because that future doesn't exist for us."

"Have you pictured that with them?" He's genuinely curious. Confused.

"Yeah." I duck my chin, surprised at myself. "I have." Fleeting as the dream has been, I've imagined what a future with Tyke and Digger looks like and how it could work.

I look up and find the last thing I fucking expected. Connor cries.

Soft tears slip free from the corner of his eyes, the rapid blinks of his lids not helping them stay put in the least. He swallows, once, twice, and then turns his head away, too ashamed to lift his hand and wipe the evidence away even though there’s no hiding his distress.

He's not sad for us. Not sad for what we'll never have.

He's sad because he thinks he'll never get it.

At that moment, it sinks in just how much of a light in the dark I was for him. I represented thepossibilityof change—maybe not the change he needed, but the idea that he could and should choose his own path.

"Hey." I tuck the letter opener away on the closest sofa and then slip beside him. "One day at a time, right?"

He sniffs, dragging the back of his hand beneath his eyes. "You tell anyone you saw me do this, I'll fucking gut you." He laughs, sad and bitter.

I slide my arms around his shoulders and pull him in. "It's okay. You don't have to pretend to be anything other than yourself around me. Got it?"

He nods against my collarbone, making a pitiful groan.

The door clicks open, Digger peeking through the gap with a frown on his handsome face that indicates he expected trouble. I lock gazes with him over Connor's back and shake my head.

Tyke reaches over Digger's shoulder and pushes the door the rest of the way open, attention falling on the man who breathes short and swift in my arms. Connor teeters on the edge, and I'm afraid if I don't show him this ounce of kindness or offer him this outlet, the fallout could be catastrophic.

"We all good?" Tyke asks, crossing to stand before us.

Connor twists his head, wiping his eyes on my shoulder before he straightens, jaw rigid as he stares down the man who made a promise to my heart.

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