Page 69 of Connor

Like some kind of gravitational force, pulling me in, keeping me anchored to a place I wasn’t sure I had the right to be anymore.

Her bedroom door was open just a crack. Enough that I could see inside, enough that I could see her. My stomachclenched as I moved forward. Instincts driving me to her side while the rest of me was still trying to make sense of what I was feeling.

Summer was asleep when I nudged the door wider and slipped in. She was curled on her side, her breathing slow, steady, her hands tucked beneath her cheek. She looked… peaceful. And fuck, something about that hurt.

Because I wasn’t peaceful. I wasn’t fucking anything except a mess. A disaster of a man who had no business standing in her doorway, watching her like some creep.

I knew I should’ve turned around. Walked away. And I almost did it, too. But then she made a sound. Soft. Small.

And then another sound—a sob.

My jaw locked and I stepped forward before I could stop myself.

She shifted in her sleep, her brows pinching together, her lips parting around a small, broken sound that made something inside me snap.

She was dreaming.

And whatever she was dreaming about—it was hurting her. I hated that. Hated that she was still feeling like this, even in her sleep. Hated that I might be the reason. I hesitated, my fingers twitching at my sides, itching to reach for her. To wake her up. To pull her close. To tell her I was fucking here.

But I didn’t. Because what the fuck would that even fix?

She shifted again, rolling slightly onto her back, her breath catching, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. And before I knew what I was doing, before I could think about how fucking stupid this was—I moved. I crouched beside her bed, careful, slow, watching the way her breath hitched.

My fingers itched to brush that tear away. Intent on fixing something I didn’t have the knowledge or the experience to fix.But I knew—I fucking knew—that I was probably the one who had broken her in the first place.

And how the fuck do you fix something when you’re the reason it shattered?

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “…Sunshine.”

Her lashes fluttered, a small tremble moving through her.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, even though I wasn’t sure if I meant for her to hear it. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe it would just float in the air, lost between us. But I needed to say it anyway. Even if she didn’t believe it. Even if she didn’t hear me at all.

I should have left.

I should have turned around, walked out, and let her sleep in peace.

But when she sighed my name—so soft, so fucking wrecked—I stopped breathing.

Her fingers twitched against the sheets, flexing open, closing again. Reaching. Searching.

For me.

I stood there, frozen, my heart slamming against my ribs.

I wasn’t strong enough for this.

I wasn’t strong enough to walk away.

So I didn’t.

I moved without thinking. Without hesitation. Like some part of me had already made the decision before my mind could catch up.

My fingers went to the hem of my shirt, it over my head before I let it drop to the floor. The jeans were next, the belt buckle clinking softly in the silence before I shoved them down. And then I was slipping into bed beside her.

She sighed at the movement. It should have been awkward or wrong. But it wasn’t. It felt too fucking natural.

Her scent curled around me, that familiar mix of vanilla and something softer, something that had haunted my fucking dreams for months. The warmth of her body seeped into mine, and I could feel it—the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing, the way her chest rose and fell in perfect time with mine.

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