Page 147 of Rules of Association

CONNOR

Something had changed.

Somewhere between hoping Ceci would just look at me with that happy smile on her face and having her lips on mine—her tongue exploring me just as much as I wanted to explore her. Her little whimpers disappearing into my throat as she enjoyed that fucking kiss just as much as I had. Somewhere between then and now I had become fed up with pretending.

Which is why I immediately decided I wasn’t playing her little game anymore. Not with her friends, not with her family, and definitely not with her.

I cared about her. Hell, I more than cared about her. I needed her. Needed her like a fish needed water. Like balloons needed helium to float. Like the air I fucking breathed. And it was doing neither of us any favors acting like I didn’t.

The confused reaction I kept getting from her every time I poured myself out to her was my fault.Partially my own fault at least.I had let it come to this. Let her push us into a box smaller than the reality of us, and now that this thing between us was seeping out of the edges of that box, she was freaking out. I should have put a stop to it way, way sooner. But it was that same face she carried after I kissed her. That same scared to hell expression that always gave me pause. That had me thinking maybe if I just gave her a little more time, a little more love in the small ways maybe it would come back around with the remarkable synergy I knew we had.

I was done being small. Her lips had made me big. Her smile had made me whole. And her love had made me new.

She loved me. I believed that. I had to believe that. Because if she didn’t…

Fuck that. She did, and just like I let whatever we were doing before run its course, I had to be okay with letting her settle into what she knew in her heart was the truth.

I was okay with waiting, but not with pretending. Not anymore.

Which was probably the reason why I was standing in front of my mother and brother in the executive offices of a building I’d grown up at with two stacks of papers in my hands.

One, was everything I knew about Mateas Ricardo. An old employee from back when my mother was acting President and CEO of Ferguson Enterprises. A senior level financial analyst on the executive track. A termination after evidence of professional misconduct. And the name that would be taking the fall for my father’s well-timed recklessness.

Ricardo’s name and IP had been one of the first hits my security scans clocked back when I started at Ferguson years ago. He had tried to access company information multiple times from his personal computer and had since been sent a cease a desist letter before he actually got to anything important. And since the “misconduct” he’d been terminated for wasn’t only the result of his professional malpractice but also the copious amounts of sexual harassment violations in his HR file, I had no problem throwing him under the bus. I didn’t know what my mom and brother were going to do to the poor guy, but I’m sure it was no less than he would have received if Ferguson had decided to take action back then, rather than simply taking his job.

“What’s this?” my brother asked as he looked over the papers in his hands. When I nervously started to tell him about Ricardo, hoping to God he wouldn’t notice me blundering—he shook his head, waving me off. “No, Connor. Not the stupid hacker,this.”

He was wagging the stack of papers in front of himself. The white sheets crumpling just slightly in his too tight fist. The gesture had me pausing and wondering if this was a good time. But then I remembered that I was no longer waiting around for it to be a good time for those around me to accept who I was. They either did or they didn’t.

With the quickest look to the corner of the room where my father leaned “uninterested” against the wall, I caught the subtle movement of his head in a nod. A nudge that said,‘go on.’

Returning my gaze to Clint, I slid my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and let out a long, readying breath. “Thatis my letter of resignation, boss. Effective immediately.”

“Excuse me?” the cold deadly sound of my mother’s voice said. But she was quickly collected by my father. Pulled to his side and placated with soft words.

“Holy shit,” Clay whispered in shock and glee.

But it was Clint I watched. My older brother who wore an impenetrable mask ninety-nine percent of the time, but who had just looked as if I shot him in the back for a fraction of a second. The same brother who still wouldn’t let himself off the hook for what happened to our sister years ago and would probably never forgive himself for this either if he thought it was because of him.

He was who had my attention as he swallowed and stared back at me, begging for an explanation. “Why?”

I thought of all the answers I could give. Snarky ones, smartass ones, angry or frustrated or annoying little brother ones. Self-righteous ones that said I told you so or serves you right or a million other things. But really that’s not what I wanted. I wasn’t mad; I was done. So instead of any of that, I just shrugged, saying, “This just isn’t for me.”

Clint was quiet. His body tight from his head down to his toes, but his eyes calculating, like they always were. And after a minute, maybe two, he began to relax. Inch by inch he released that tension that wound him tight and he just sighed. He just looked at me and he sighed. Then he said. “But programming is?”

I nodded.

He nodded too. “Always has been.”

“It has,” I agreed simply.

Clint’s eyes held a regret I’ve only seen in him a couple of times, and that might as well have been an apology in my eyes. Clint didn’t do regrets. Or second guessing. So when he did, he did them big.

Shaking his head he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t know, didn’t care to ask. I swear I am trying to be less shitty.”

This had me smiling.

“I don’t think you know how to be shitty at anything, Clint.” I wrinkled my nose. “Never mind—You’d be pretty shitty at being in jail. So you might want to handle that sooner rather than later.”

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