Page 15 of Connor

"Fuck," I muttered.

Aiden shut the door behind us and leaned against it, watching me carefully. "Wanna wreck it before he gets here with the estate agent? We can make a huge mess, let them clear it up."

I let out a humorless laugh. "Don’t tempt me."

He shrugged. "Just saying. Probably won’t help, but might feel good for a second."

He wasn’t wrong.

I clenched my teeth, dragging a hand down my face. My jaw still ached from earlier in the week, the dull throb reminding me what was in store if I did exactly that. I wish leaving meant some kind of freedom, but it didn’t. Same shit, different angle.

I looked around, suddenly at a loss. My father had yanked the rug out from under me, but the fucked-up part? I wasn’t even surprised. He’d probably been waiting for the excuse.

I should have seen it coming.

I should have donesomething.

Aiden sighed, adjusting his cane. "Look, man. You don’t have to figure this all out right now."

"Yeah?" I scoffed. "Then when? Before or after my shit gets thrown out on the curb?"

He didn’t flinch. "You can stay with me."

My stomach clenched. I didn’t say anything, but Aiden must’ve caught onto the hesitation, because his voice softened. "Just for now. Until you figure out what you wanna do."

I swallowed, staring at the floor. There was one question I couldn’t ask. One I wanted to askso fucking bad. But I couldn’t handle the answer to it. Was Mom there?

Would she be in the apartment, curled up on the couch, eyes red, hands shaking? Would she be avoiding my gaze, the way she always did when things got bad, pretending she couldn’t see the bruises on my jaw? Would she act like nothing happened at all?

My jaw locked. I didn’t ask. Didn’t have the fucking guts. I’d find out anyway when we got there. "Fine."

Aiden didn’t press. Didn’t ask if I was sure. Didn’t say a damn thing. Just turned to the kitchen and started opening up drawers. Hell,I guess I should get some boxes.

***

The superintendent had a few spare boxes in the basement, old Amazon packaging and shit from past tenants. He barely glanced at me when I asked. Just handed them over like he was already used to people coming through here, packing up, moving on.

I carried them upstairs, the weight light in my hands but heavy in my fucking chest.

Aiden was in the kitchen, still rummaging through drawers. Probably making sure I didn’t forget anything important. Or maybe just giving me space.

I dropped the boxes on the floor and let out a slow breath, staring at them.

Summer did this, too.

I could see her, clear as fucking day, sitting on her bedroom floor back home, shoving clothes into a suitcase. Her brows furrowed, lip caught between her teeth, eyes glassy but determined. She was running, but she wouldn’t call it that. Not her. She was leaving for something better. A fresh start. A new life.

She left because she wanted to. Because shechoseto.

Me? I wasn’t running. I was being shoved the fuck out.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I knelt down, opening one of the boxes. The sound of cardboard scraping against itself filled the silence.

Summer had been here.

She never stayed the night, but she left traces of herself everywhere. Little things I hadn’t thought about in months. Things I couldn’t get rid of. A pack of hair ties tucked under the couch. A forgotten T-shirt, buried under the mess of clothes in my closet. A book with a cracked spine that I’d buried in my nightstand drawer, the bookmark still stuck somewhere in the middle.

I reached for it before I could think better of it.

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