Conner Burke.
“We need to talk,” he demands. There’s no room for arguments in his tone, but I’m going to give him one right now.
“It’ll have to wait. Mila’s not asleep yet.”
“It’s okay. Leila came along. Said she’ll watch her.” He motions to his truck, and seconds later his sister steps out.
“I don’t . . . I mean . . . She doesn’t really know her,” I finish lamely. That’s a pathetic reason.
“And whose fault is that, Sofie?” Conner’s eyes harden, ice edging his voice.
I open my mouth and close it again. “I know,” I say on a swallow.
“The least you can do is let our daughter get to know her aunt while we try and sort out the shitstorm you created.”
“Watch your language!” I snap.
“If you want me to watch my language, I suggest you get your ass into my car in the next five seconds.” He pulls his keys from pocket. “You’ve already taken enough of her from us, so cut the crap.”
“Conner!” Leila smacks his arm. “You can’t say that!”
“No, he can. He’s right.” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. I meet Leila’s eyes, soft and warm, and bite my thumbnail. “There are juice boxes in the cupboard next to the fridge. If she wants one, lift her up and she’ll pick which color. And if she wants a snack, her star chips are in the cupboard next to that one.”
Leila smiles and squeezes my arm. “We’ll be best friends by the time y’all’re done.”
I watch my best friend walk into the front room and say hi excitedly to Mila. My baby claps her hands and squeals, the noise like a knife to my heart.
What would she do if she knew her father was standing ten feet away from her?
“Get in the car,” Conner orders, turning and walking toward it.
I swallow and pull the door closed behind me. The gravel crunches beneath my feet with every slow step I take.
“Sometime today, Sof.”
I pull the door open with a deep breath and slide into the passenger seat. I’ve barely buckled my seat belt when he revs the engine and tears out of my driveway.
This is the closest we’ve been in forever. I can practically touch his anger it’s so tangible, but I can also feel the warmth from his body. My eyes flick to him and back to my lap, away from the flexing of his biceps as he drives, to the fidgeting of my fingers.
And honestly, I’m trying to forget the last time we were in this truck.
I’m trying to forget how with both our parents home, a truck parked in the woods was our only option. I’m trying to forget the giggles as we negotiated the seat and the heat of his mouth and the softness of his fingers across my skin.
I’m doing a really, really bad job of not thinking about it.
The tension ricochets and the silence tightens, intensifying with every tap of his finger against the steering wheel. With every flick of my foot against the floor. With every breath, every heartbeat.
I wish he’d say something. Anything.
Just . . . something.
We reach his house and he pulls up, exhaling heavily before pushing his door open. The two cars outside belong to Tate and Kye, and I eye them wearily as I get out.
“We’re going to talk here?”
Conner doesn’t answer. He simply shoots a hard look over his shoulder at me and turns on his heel. I watch him for a moment, hesitating. If there’s anything worse than an angry Conner, it’s an angry Conner, Tate, and Kye.
Shit. It doesn’t even matter. I don’t owe the Burke brothers anything—just one of them. The others can kiss my sweet Southern ass.
I follow Conner around the side of his house and into the yard. He keeps walking until he reaches the beach, and I reach down to pull my sandals off. I set them by the big tree in the yard, the one that holds the twenty-year-old tree house we spent so much time in before.
The sand is hot and soft beneath my toes. I pause at the edge of the beach and stare at Conner. He’s standing with his back to me, his hands in the pockets of his shorts, staring out at the water. His shoulders rise and fall with every breath, and he hangs his head.
Still nothing. No glances. No recognition. No words.
And I want it all. I want the yells and the shouts and the screams. I want him to tell me he hates me and that he’ll never be able to look at me again. I want him to tear into me and rip my soul into pieces the way I did his.
I want him to break my fucking heart.
“Talk!” I yell at his back. “You’ve dragged me down here, the least you can do is say whatever is on your damn mind!”
His shoulders heave, but he doesn’t respond.
I storm down to him and grab his arm. He tenses beneath my touch, his bicep hardening against my fingertips. I shove him. “Fuck, Conner! Lay it on me! I know that’s what you want to do. I sure as hell deserve it!”
He’s barely turned to face me when his hands are cupping the sides of my face and his lips are on mine. The kiss is hard and angry, the rough way his mouth moves against mine almost a punishment. His fingers tangle in my hair, keeping me against him. I fist the sides of his shirt, taking this sudden assault, as tears burn in my eyes.
Because this hurts. Because it’s a small slice of the past, a memory brought to life. Because through the pain, it feels like everything I’ve wanted since I walked away.
“I really fucking hate you, you know that?” he says, his short, sharp breaths ghosting heat across my lips. “I fucking hate you for keeping her from me.”
“You should. I want you to.”
“Why, Sof? Why the hell would you keep her from me? She’s my daughter! Fuck!” He lets me go and fists his hair, his eyes shining with an angry pain. With accusation and blame.
Blame I deserve.
I squeeze my eyes shut. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe.
“C’mon, then, Sofie! You told me to talk. You wanted me to talk—now it’s your turn. You’re the one with the answers to the questions I can’t figure out, so fuckin’ talk!”
“I didn’t want her to ruin the band!”
“What?” He freezes.
“You guys were so close—so close to breaking out, and you did. You did, and I couldn’t tell you.” I wrap my arms around my stomach as it churns. “I couldn’t pull you from that, Con. It was all you’d ever wanted.”
“And you didn’t think I’d want my daughter more?” he shouts. “You didn’t think she’d mean more to me than the band?”