Page 48 of Connor

This wasn’t him. It would never be him.

Nate thrust harder, groaning in my ear, his fingers digging into my hips like he was trying to leave a mark. But all I could feel was the absence of something.

The space where Connor should be. I squeezed my eyes shut, nails biting into Nate’s shoulders, and let it happen. Let him use my body the way I was using his.

Let him finish, let him shudder against me, let him murmur something sweet that I didn’t fucking hear. And then—it was over and he collapsed beside me with a breathless, lazy grin stretching across his lips. “Jesus, Summer,” he murmured. “That was—”

So fucking terrible? Yeah.

I rolled away from him, sitting up, pulling the sheets around me as I ran a hand down my face. He was still talking. Still looking at me like we were something now. But all I felt was empty. I let out a slow, shaky breath and forced myself to smile. Fake it.

“Yeah,” I whispered, staring at the ceiling. “It was something.”

It was nothing. I didn’t feel better. I felt like I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. But it was too late for that now. I turned to Nate, brushing a hand over his chest, leaning in just enough to fake interest. “You want some water?”

He grinned, still basking in his post-fuck haze. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

I nodded, slipping out of bed, wrapping a sheet around me. But as I walked to the kitchen, as I caught sight of my reflection in the hallway mirror, I stopped. I didn’t recognize myself.

My lips were swollen. My skin was flushed. My hair was messy, tangled.

But my eyes…

My eyes looked fucking dead.

And I hated that. I hated that Connor had left me feeling like this.

But I hated myself even more for wondering how the fuck he managed to fuck other people—or if maybe he preferred it this way.

Chapter 15

Connor

I should have stopped.

I fucking knew I should have.

Every day, I told myself it would be the last time. That I’d get some goddamn sleep, sober up, and let Summer live her life without me dragging her down any more than I already had.

But then night fell.

And I found myself back here.

Standing across the street from her apartment, hands shoved deep into my pockets, stomach twisted in knots. I didn’t go inside. Didn’t knock. Didn’t do a damn thing except watch. Like some fucking stalker.

"This is fucking weird."

North’s voice came from behind me, but I didn’t flinch. I’d been expecting it. Him or Quinn. They’d been keeping tabs on me ever since I got kicked out of the dealership just before the last fight with Summer. I had a feeling that they were afraid I’d go completely off the rails.

Joke’s on them. I already had. Why else would I go back to my Dad to ask for my job, then fuck it all up and leave with a concussion and bruises across my face?

I know what Summer thought they were, but there hadn’t been another woman since the bitch who begged for my cock in her ass. I couldn’t really deny it though, not after all the other time’s I’d shown up like that. Beaten and bloody, with only one excuse on my lips. Someone’s husband. Someone’s boyfriend, or brother. She didn’t need to know it was always the same person. None of them did.

North stepped up beside me, hands in his jacket pockets, watching Summer’s window like he could see what I saw. "You look like some Lifetime stalker villain."

Quinn crossed her arms, unimpressed. "If you’re trying to prove you’re father material, this ain’t it." She buffed her nails against her pants, then blew on them like she wasn’t shoving a fucking knife into my ribs. "Maybe try, I don’t know, flowers? An apology? Getting down on your knees and promising you’ll never be a dickwad ever again?"

I ignored them both.

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