33. Connor
Chapter 33
Connor
“El—“ I begin, only to stop short when I see him slumped on the couch in the living room.
Broken glass litters the floor, and I nearly step on the shards, catching myself just in time. Most alarming, though, is the blood seeping between Elijah's fingers and dripping onto the floor.
“Jesus, what the fuck?” I ask.
His eyes are hollow and distant, fixed on the coffee table. “Leave.”
“You’re bleeding all over the place. What the hell?” I rush to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit we all keep stocked for emergencies.
This isn’t the first time I find my cousin in a state of reckless devastation over a woman. But I’ve never seen him look so utterly lost before .
Dropping it on the coffee table in front of him, I sit down, taking his hand. “What happened?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He tries to wrench free, but I grip his wrist firmly.
“I know Gemma was here,” I say.
“We had a fight. She left. I got angry and…”
“Idiot.” I carefully disinfect the cut. “Want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“You know what.”
“I need that engagement. And by needing it, I failed her.”
Elijah’s so damn stubborn. His father doesn’t give a fuck who Elijah marries. He just wants to see his son smile for once in his miserable life.
And I’d like to see that, too. Elijah is the closest thing I have to a big brother growing up. He looked out for me, stood up to the bullies, and taught me how to talk to girls.
“I don’t think your dad meant to marry any woman,” I say.
“She said the same thing. I never meant to hurt her.”
“But you did.” I wrap the wound. “What did you expect? Stringing her along while you play fiancé with Esther?”
“I didn’t know what else to do. Dad wanted me to settle down. Esther was convenient, and I thought I could keep Gemma on the side until…”
“You’re a goddamn fool, cuz. Gemma’s not the type of girl you keep on standby.”
“You think I don’t know that? ”
“So what now? You gonna keep up this charade with Esther while Gemma walks away?” I finish bandaging his hand. “Bash will kill you.”
“I know.”
“If you’re so in love with her, why not make her your fiancé?”
His eyes meet mine, full of vulnerability and fear—a side of him rarely seen. “I asked her.”
“Really? You got down on one knee? Before or after she called you an asshole? Or was it bastard? A more classy one? Prick?”
“Fine. I didn’t do it properly at all.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t have a plan yet. But I will.”
“Talk to her. Tell her how you feel. Sweep her off her feet. And for fuck’s sake, end it with Esther.”
“Is that what you’re doing with Mary? Talking?”
“Why did you tell Mary about us being at the party that night?”
Elijah sighs. “Look, I know you’re pissed. But I was only trying to help… move things along between you two.”
“What are you talking about?” Though I already know the answer.
“You’ve been circling each other for weeks now. It’s time you make a move before it’s too late.”
I shake my head, torn between annoyance and appreciation .
Elijah has always been the meddling type, for better or worse. And his heart seems to be in the right place, even if his methods are questionable. As much as I want to argue with him, I know he’s right. My relationship with Mary has been stuck in limbo, and if I don’t act now, I may lose her forever.
“Did you really think that was going to work?” I ask.
“Didn’t it?”
“Cuz, you really don’t get it. I was this close to getting that fucker Chris out of her head. But after your little stunt? He’s everything she thinks about.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, man. I couldn’t sit back and watch you suffer in silence.”
“I don’t suffer in silence.”
“Right.” Elijah holds up his hands in acquiescence. “My bad.”
“Focus on Gemma. I’ll handle things with Mary.”
“No more interference from me.”
I move to the bar cart and grab a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. After pouring us both a drink, I settle on the couch next to him. He downs his in one go.
“Another?” I refill his glass and clink it with mine. “Cheers.”
The warm liquid burns down my throat, and I welcome the sensation. It seems fitting for the moment—an acknowledgment of the burning emotions within me that I can no longer ignore.
“Remember when I was called to the principal because I hacked into the school system and got caught?” I say .
Elijah grins. “How could I forget? I got you out with two hours’ detention.”
“Bran still gives me shit about it. The only time I got caught unintentionally.” And it’s going to be the last time. Mary can’t know it’s me.
“We should ask him. Bran.”
I snort. “Seriously?”
“I’m dead fucking serious,” he says. “He got things sorted with Naomi.”
“This is the same Brandon who uses ‘Are you from Tennessee?’ as a pickup line?”
“Seemed to work for him. At least 50% of the time.”
I shake my head. “Never thought I’d see the day we’d ask Bran for relationship advice.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, cuz.” He shrugs.
“Truce?” I hold up my drink.
“Truce.” He clinks his glass with mine.
“Man, I could really go for one of Bran’s burgers right now.” Elijah rubs his stomach.
“Good Idea.” I check the time on my phone. Just past midnight. “He’s probably still up.”
I pull up Bran’s number and hit the call button, putting the phone on speaker. It only rings once before he answers.
“This better be good,” Bran grumbles. “I was about to beat Bash. ”
Bash’s voice appears in the background, mixed with video game music. “Dream on.”
“We’re in dire need of food,” I say. “Think you can spare some for a couple of pathetic souls?”
“Pathetic is right.” Bran’s eye roll is audible through the phone. “You two need to learn how to feed yourselves.” There’s a pause, then, “Be over in twenty. Want Bash to bring the good whiskey?”
“Please,” Elijah and I say in unison.
Bran sighs like it’s a huge inconvenience, but I can hear the smile in his voice. “Alright, you ingrates. But you owe me. Big time.”
Some things never change. Brandon used to feed Bash and me in college, too.
I end the call and bring up the tracking app that shows Mary’s location. A dot blinks on the map, safely within the walls of her apartment. Good, she made it home.
The man she loves… I’ll come up with a plan tomorrow.
Satisfied that she’s settled in for the night, I—
“You should go after her,” Elijah says.
I glance at him in surprise. “What?”
“Mary.” His expression is knowing, almost gentle. “Don’t wait. Don’t second-guess yourself anymore. Go after her.”
I’ll be whatever she needs me to be, but fuck—
How? The only way… If I want any chance at a future with Mary, I have to come clean. The idea terrifies me. But the alternative—losing her for good—is unbearable .
“Yeah,” I say. “I will.”
Telling her means confronting my own hypocrisy and cowardice, exposing the ugly reality of who I am and what I’ve done. And after everything that’s happened, she may never forgive me.
I don’t know if I have the courage to face her, to watch the light in her eyes dim and die when she learns the truth.