Page 59 of Connor

I told them about the affair, about the fact that Vic still didn’t know about us. About how she deserved better than what I could give her… afterward, there was only one thing left to tell her and I hesitated, scratching my jaw before blurting it out, “There’s more, but I swear, I didn’t know until just a few weeks ago.”

Mom’s brows pulled together, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Know about what, baby?”

“That Summer was pregnant.” The words tasted different out loud. Heavier. Real. And for a second I couldn’t believe I’d actually said it. Or that it was actually happening.

“Oh.”

I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “Yeah. Oh.”

Aiden stiffened slightly beside her, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t react. He just watched.

Mom’s eyes softened as she took me in, reading me like she always had. She might’ve been blind to a lot of things, but never me.

I dragged a hand through my hair. “I don’t—I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with that. I don’t want to be a father. I don’t even know how.” My chest was tight, my pulse hammering against my ribs. “I mean, look at what I came from. Look at who raised me. You think I could ever be good at this?”

She was quiet for a moment, her hands folding neatly in her lap. Then—softly, simply—she said, “You are not your father, Connor.”

I flinched. The words were so gentle, but they hit me like a wrecking ball, knocking the air from my lungs.

“You hear me?” she continued, her voice stronger now. “You could never be him.”

I clenched my jaw. “You don’t know that.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “Yes, I do.”

I looked away, swallowing hard.

She sighed, reaching for my hand, fingers weak but steady as she held on. “Do you care about her?”

I stilled. The question wasn’t unexpected. I knew it was coming. But still—it felt like something sharp against my ribs.

Aiden’s eyes were on me now too, waiting, watching.

I could lie. I could say it didn’t matter. That Summer didn’t mean anything anymore, that I’d fucked things up too much for it to matter anyway.

But then—her face flashed through my mind.

The way she’d looked at me when she told me she was pregnant. The way her voice had cracked when she said she wasn’t getting rid of it. The way she had let me in, over and over again, even when she should’ve slammed the door in my face.

The truth was sitting heavy on my tongue, burning, demanding to be spoken. And I couldn’t lie. Not here. Not now. I swallowed hard and nodded once.

Mom smiled, like she already knew the answer. “Then that’s all that matters.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “It’s not that fucking simple.”

She squeezed my hand firmly. “It is.”

“I don’t even know if she’ll let me be around.”

Mom’s gaze softened. “Then you show her that she should.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just held onto my hand like she wasn’t ready to let go yet. Like she needed me to understand something before I walked away.

Finally, she said, “You just do the opposite of what your father and I did. You don’t hurt her, and you don’t leave.”

The words were simple. Too simple. But fuck—they hit hard. Because she was right. I’d spent my whole life running. Running from him. Running from Reverence. Running from the things I couldn’t fix. Running from the things I didn’t want to feel. And I’d run from Summer, too. Just like I’d hurt her. Even when I should’ve stayed. When I should’ve told her she didn’t have to worry because even when I was with other women, she was a film reel that played constantly in my head.

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