Page 33 of Grind
Connor
Adrenaline pounds through my veins as I enter the club. Ignoring Sully’s curious look, I head straight behind the bar and drink straight out of a bottle of cheap whiskey. I take it back to my office. We don’t open for hours. Be good and drunk by then.
I told her I wanted to be with her.
God, and I’d meant it. What an idiot I am to get caught up with a woman in the first place, especially that woman. The look on her face when she told me she couldn’t handle my life, my work, my family.
It’s burned into my brain—the disappointment in her eyes. What did that sniveling asshole Brooks say to her? I’m not ashamed of what my family does, and I’ll be damned if a woman wants me to think less of them.
What she’d seen at the club last night had not been good. I should have handled that better. Should have had a different plan. Fuck.
Getting mixed up with the Stacys was bound to bring a world of pain raining down on us.
But I’d promised Ava I’d keep her safe, and I let Brooks Stacy hurt her. Another swig of the whiskey burns all the way down. It needs to erase the memory of the fear in her eyes as that son of a bitch choked her.
Still gripping the whiskey, I drop onto the leather couch. I want to punch something. Someone. I want to finish the job on Brooks. Ava may not want me in her life anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of her problem.
“Connor.”
Right on cue. I slam the whiskey down on the coffee table, resting my head in my hands.
“That didn’t take long, Seamus.”
He sits next to me. Once again, he’s overdressed.
“Well?” I just want to get the lecture over.
“Brooks Stacy was taken to the hospital,” he says finally, his voice low.
“He’s lucky he’s not going to the cemetery.”
Seamus laughs, a sharp, barking sound. “Bad joke, little brother.” He drops a hand on my shoulder.
It wasn’t a joke, but I realize I sound stupid. Like I sounded when I proclaimed my feelings for Ava in the middle of a fucking fight in a seedy diner. Jesus. No wonder she wanted me to get the hell out of there.
The hell out of her life. She needs stability, safety, strength. What am I bringing to the table?
“Yeah.”
“Listen. I also heard he hurt your girl, I don’t…”
“She’s not my girl,” I growl, grabbing the whiskey again and taking a deep draw. “She’s going to be a lawyer. Can’t be in bed with organized crime.”
The memories of her body flood my brain as I think about being in bed with her again. A stab runs through my soul, anger, regret, and something else deeper and harder. Something I can’t handle thinking about right now, an ache better left unidentified.
Seamus snorts. “I’m a lawyer, Connor.”
He grabs the bottle from me, takes a swig, and hands it back. “Jesus, that’s disgusting. Kind of hits the spot though.”
We sit in silence for a minute.
“I know it’s hard, Connor, but give her time. You’re too young to remember the toll Dad’s work took on Mom. If you really like this woman, you need to think about what she’ll be getting into.”
He’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s selfish of me to assume Ava wants any part of something so complicated, especially after everything she’s been through. It’s true that it’s not black or white. But it’s not easy, either. Ava deserves a safe, comfortable life.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still want her to spend it with me. That I couldn’t give it to her.
“Seamus, I need to ask you something.”
