“Um, you want a beer?” I sound ridiculous, but I don’t know what to do around Declan. He’s unnerving. I’m not sure howDina handles this guy, but maybe he’s different around her. Less intense.
Outside, tires screech.
“That’s my cue,” Declan says and sprints out the back door, which slams shut behind him.
Footsteps pound toward the house, my front door flies open, and Connor storms into the house, gun drawn. Half his face is painted blue, matching the butterfly on Hanna’s cheek. He assesses me with a single glance and sprints after his brother. I hear muffled popping sounds.
Oh my God, he’s shooting at his brother!
I start to rush after him, but he walks back inside and closes the door quietly as if not to wake the baby.
“Motherfucker jumped the fence before I could shoot him.”
This is why Declan wore a vest. He knew Connor would come in, guns blazing.
At the back door, near the small mud room, Connor unscrews the silencer from his pistol and tucks the gun and the silencer away. He’s wearing jeans and a blue polo shirt with ketchup and paint stains all over it.
I love this man.
This is my man.
I know it like I know he won’t look at me because he’s so broken that he knows if he does, he’ll want me back. If Connor sounds complicated, it’s because he is. Loving me isn’t simple for him. It’s not even kind.
And loving him is complicated because we’re not meant to understand matters of the heart, and yet we seek to understand the heart. We seek to justify, explain, even map the way we love someone. Thing is that when it comes to love, there are no plans, no rules, just feelings, while trauma and loss teach us the skill of loving and appreciating people who love us back.
Which is precisely why I walk up to him and cup his cheeks, force him to look at me.
Blue eyes hood when they lock with mine.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he says.
“Yet here you are.”
“Declan forced my hand.”
“I’m glad he did. Shall I pack?”
Don’t say no. Please don’t say no.
When Connor hesitates, tears run down my cheeks. I have to try harder with him. He’s not like the rest of us. “Don’t deny yourself because you think you’re a monster or crazy or anything. You can think whatever you want about yourself, but you can’t think that for me, and you can’t think instead of me. I have a mind of my own, and I get to think whatever I want, and I’ve made up my mind about you, Connor Crossbow. So if you nod, I’ll come with you. I’ll stay with you. We can make us work. You and I are really good together.”
Connor’s gaze stays sharp and a little scary, but if I can’t handle his brand of scary, then I have no business being with this man, because I sure as fuck don’t want to change him. I didn’t fall in love with a pit bull so I could spend my life with a golden retriever. No, thanks. I’ll take my pit bull. He’ll protect my baby and me with his life. In turn, I’ll love him for all that he is and more.
If only he would let me.
And I’m not sure if he ever will.
“Please consider that you don’t know everything. Just for a second, consider that you don’t know how I feel about you because you’re wrong about yourself. About us.”
His thumbs swipe over my cheeks, but Connor stays quiet.
“I’m in love with you. The distance only made it worse.”
Connor frowns. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
He purses his lips. “You love all eight and a half inches of me?”