Page 68 of Connor

Victor was still pissed. And that was saying something, considering he’d already broken my nose this morning. I thought maybe the bruises on my face would’ve been enough to satisfy him for the day. Guess not.

After Summer kicked us both out, we ended up at North’s. The conversation didn’t start civil. Victor let loose the second we walked in, and I let him. Because he wasn’t wrong. Because I didn’t have a single fucking argument against anything he said—even if he was repeating shit from the night before. But it was the last thing he said that stung enough for me to leave.

"You don’t deserve her."

That one. That one fucking hurt the most. Because he was right. And just to fucking prove that, I ended up back at the bar while I kept my messages open to the last thing I got from Summer. That message warning me Vic was at her place. I don’t know why I kept looking, it was already past eight at night and she hadn’t phoned or messaged. I knew she wouldn’t. I didn’t know why I wanted her to, but I knew she wouldn’t.

I had three whiskey shots lined up in front of me, the burn hitting deep, dulling the ache in my jaw, in my ribs, in my fucking chest when the woman slid in beside me. Before I even looked up, I felt her. Close. Too close.

The brunette from before. The one I’d fucked with her little blonde friend. From another fucking night that got me into this mess with Summer.

She didn’t say anything right away. Just reached out, her long fingers trailing up my arm, her nails scraping lightly over the fabric of my shirt. Her touch was practiced, confident. Like she’d already decided how this was gonna go.

Like she’d already had me once and knew she could do it again.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here again,” she whispered, tipping her head to the side.

I didn’t respond, didn’t even look at her, but she took that as an invitation. Her hand drifted lower, teasing, brushing just over my ribs. Familiar. Like she thought she already knew the outcome.

“Rough night?” she asked.

“You could say that.”

She hummed, leaning in, her perfume too strong, too sweet. Nothing like Summer. But her lips grazed my jaw, offering a familiar comfort, and her fingers traced down my arm, her thigh pressed against mine. I closed my eyes at her touch, and for a second—just a second—I almost let it happen. Almost grabbed her waist. Almost let her drag me into the dark. Almost let her wipe away the mess of emotions I’d been drowning in all fucking day.

Because that’s what I did, right?

I ran.

I distracted myself. I buried my hands in someone else. I let someone else’s body drown out the guilt. And fuck, I wanted that right now. Needed it. But then—I saw her face the night before. Summer’s. The way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Then I heard her voice this morning, the way her voice cracked when she told us both to leave. The way she looked at me when I didn’t fight it.

The way I just stood there, saying nothing. And suddenly, my stomach fucking twisted.

The brunette shifted, sensing my hesitation. She let out a quiet, knowing hum. “You overthinking it, baby?”

Her brows furrowed. “Oh, come on. You were all over me last time.”

Yeah. Because I was a fucking idiot last time. I pushed back my stool, tossing a few bills on the bar. “Not tonight.”

Her lips pursed in annoyance, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t matter. I was already walking away. I pulled out my phone, my fingers already flicking to my messages.

Nothing. Of course not. I swallowed hard, my thumb hovering over her name. Summer. I should leave her alone. Connor was right, I didn’t deserve her. I should go back to North’s place and sleep this off.

I should—

But I was already out the door.

Already heading home.

***

The apartment was dark when I finally managed to get the key in the door and open it. I locked it behind myself, swearing all the while. I could barely see a fucking thing. But by the dark and the quiet, I could assume Vic wasn’t here at least. Good. Probably still at North’s, venting, drinking, maybe planning another hit to my jaw for the next time he saw me.

Didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was here. Even though I shouldn’t be. Even though I knew Summer probably didn’t want to see me. Even though I’d told myself I wasn’t going to crawl back to her again. Yet here I was.

I shut the door behind me, locking it out of habit, my boots heavy against the floor as I moved further inside. I could feel her before I even saw her.

Summer.

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