Page 32 of My Favorite Mistake

“But I do. I honestly do.”

Her mouth pulled into a sharp, quivering frown. She exhaled in a small, quiet puff of air and squeezed her eyes shut. He rubbed his thumb back and forth, catching the tears that spilled out. He wasso sorry,and he still loved herso much, and then she uttered a tiny whimper in the back of her throat as though she suddenly remembered the last time she’d cried in a car with him.

Rather than the memory causing her to haul off and slap him, Liza inclined her face, pressing her cheek into his palm, as if surrendering to total defeat.

“I made you cry.” The words escaped Connor’s lips without permission, but it wasn’t something they both didn’t already know.

“Yeah, you did.” Her voice barely held a sound beyond the hitch of her breath. She didn’t pull away from him, and he brought his other hand to her opposite cheek, framing her face with his palms.

“I hate that I made you cry.” Another unauthorized confession. Connor was perilously close to spilling the words he knew were pointless since there was nothing he could ever do to right all the wrongs. In a reflexive effort to silence himself, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her trembling bottom lip.

Liza’s eyelids snapped open, startled and catching his gaze. “Why did you do that?” she demanded, but she didn’t pull away.

“I don’t know.” He didn’t pull away either, rather he placed another kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I’m just sorry.”

She stared at his eyes, then dropped her gaze to his mouth. He perceived the sudden heat that rolled off her, heat of a different kind than anger, and she pressed her mouth to his.

Desperate, painful, Liza claimed his mouth and deepened the kiss, parting her lips and grasping his shirt. His tongue sought hers, and they were suddenly entwined once again, not all that different than the last time he’d kissed her in a car. Way back during that moment, he’d had a looming sense of dread it might be the last time he’d feel her lips on his. And now, knowing this was a temporary, emotionally-driven collapse of her well-fortified walls, Connor was aware it was a second last time of sorts, and he slid his hand to the base of her neck and pulled her closer.

One of Liza’s hands anchored into the fabric of his shirt while the other raked down his torso, around to his back, tugging and incessant. A quiet, tortured moan drifted from her mouth into his, andfuck.

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck.

The atmosphere inside the car crackled with warning. His cock strained at his jeans, and Connor would’ve given life and limb to rip them off, then remove hers, and pull her onto his lap exactly like he’d done when they were in this same situation ten years ago.

But it wasn’t his life he was toying with. It was hers. He’d already fucked her once—and not in the good sense of the word. He refused to do it again. He wasn’t good for her. That had always been the problem. And as a man who was defined by his decision to defend all manner of things, he knew the most dangerous threat he had to defend her from was himself.

Connor allowed himself one last indulgence in this moment of pure intemperance, and slid his hand down her back, pulling her so that her chest was flush against his, and wrapped his arms around her. He enveloped her in a cocoon of his body and wanted to plead with her,how can you possibly think I hate you when every cell in my body is screaming that I still love you and never stopped?

But Liza believing his love for her had abruptly dried up long ago is what would keep her safe, so he wouldn’t allow the words to surface from his lips. And fortunately—for her sake—she seemed to remember herself, and her lips broke away from his.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she whispered, so quiet it seemed she was more telling herself than him. And she was right.

“I know.” Connor let his hands slip from her body and shifted away from her.

He rested his elbow against the window and drew his index finger back and forth across his upper lip as he stared out at the deserted neighborhood. A street that once hummed with life and happiness and love, until the tumult of cruel fate washed away every good thing that once inhabited it. It wasn’t all that different from the void that separated him from Liza. A void where there used to be hopes and dreams, which was created by his utter failure at the most basic requirements of life.

Liza cleared her throat as she put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “Scott Latimer is a friend of yours?”

“Yeah. He’s my neighbor.”

And he was there when I fucked all this up beyond recognition.

“We need to go talk to him.” She eased down on the brake at a stop sign and picked up her coffee to take a sip while waiting out a turning car.

“What about?”

“Or you can talk to him.” She set down the coffee and then pulled across the intersection. “He should know that we’re offering Oscar a contract so he can write about it. He’s written about him before. The article was in the file you put together. Maybe he can do a follow-up.”

“Yeah, we can go talk to him.” Connor drummed his thighs with his fingertips. “He normally goes out and does home repairs on Saturdays, but I bet he’s back by now.”

His phone ringing pierced the atmosphere of the car, and Connor pulled it out of his pocket. He answered and placed the phone to his ear. “What up, Riley?”

“Sarge,” Brennan said. “What are you doing? Meet me at the gym, and then let’s go watch the game at the Old Point.”

Normally, hitting the gym and then watching basketball all day with Brennan, Luke, and whomever else was at the Old Point Bar would’ve been an ideal Saturday for Connor—but today was different. Especially after kissing Liza likethat. It was a terrible idea, but it stirred up his desire to spend the day with her, rather than the guys.

“Uh.” Connor rubbed his forehead. “I’m actually with Liza over in the Lower Nine. We went to talk to Oscar about signing with us.”

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