Conor Thames 2

by R. J. Lewis

  “Dead of the night kind of hour.”

  I shrugged. “He’s a busy guy, Jem. Sometimes he can only see me at those hours.”

  Jem’s gaze softened as he studied me. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

  I studied my nails. “What does that mean?”

  “I mean…if he is making you do things…” His words trailed off.

  Now I looked around us, pretending to be more concerned about the non-existent drivers in the empty parking lot. I wasn’t doing a good job pretending things were totally normal between Locke and me, but then I realized I didn’t have to be.

  “Charlotte,” he pressed, gravely, “sweetheart, please, Locke is a dangerous guy. I need to hear you’re okay.”

  “I’m alright,” I assured him.

  “I can sever whatever he wants from you.”

  “What?”

  His eyes hardened, and he looked scary. “I can pay him a visit.”

  “There are things about Locke that are…difficult to swallow, but…I choose to be there.” Then I added harshly, “I’m not fucking the guy if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

  Jem’s expression remained vacant, confirming he had thought just that.

  Oh, my God.

  “I’m waiting for Conor,” I pressed, feeling a little insulted he would think that.

  “Long time to wait for someone,” he reiterated. “Really long time.”

  “So?”

  “So, things change. We’re human. It’s okay to feel human, Charlotte. To… want things again.”

  I swallowed the hard lump in my throat away, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

  “This is kinda pushing the limits of our friendship, Jem,” I mumbled, but really, I was fighting the tears in my eyes. I sniffed and looked at the street harder.

  “Not trying to do that, sweetheart,” he apologized.

  “I’m not fucking Locke,” I bit out again, feeling my face flush now. “God, but yeah, I get what you’re saying, and yeah, okay, I have needs and sometimes there’s a horrible fucking ache in places, if you catch my drift, but…I’m not tempted to go out there and spread my legs just so someone can dip their dick in me and give me a shitty orgasm. It might feel good for like two seconds, but it would feel like shit after. I would hate the guy and I would hate myself more.”

  “You sure about that?” he wondered, watching me tenderly.

  I peered back at him like he was crazy. “How could anyone ever replace Conor?”

  “Feelings change over time, Char.”

  “Not mine. Never.”

  “What if he’s not the same?”

  “I’m not counting on him to be. I won’t be the same, either, Jem. I’m trying to be realistic about this.”

  “You think you’re being realistic by waiting around for years and believing you won’t feel any differently by the end?”

  “What we had was real, and I don’t need to prove that to anyone else who thinks otherwise. I know myself, and I know him, and I believe in our love.”

  He was in disbelief, but the way he looked at me…he sensed the conviction behind my words. “Wow.” He blew out a breath and then chuckled. “Conor fucked up, Charlotte. God, if any guy had a girl like you standing behind them, they’d be fucking fools throwing it away.”

  “He didn’t throw me away,” I replied, defending Conor without blinking. “Because I’m still here, and I’m waiting.”

  “Even after you learned he lost his chance at parole?”

  My breath slowed. Again, I blinked the tears back, not answering straight away. When Locke delivered that blow, I’d fallen into a week-long depression. I felt like someone had punched a hole in my chest. Worse than that, I saw the look in Megan’s eyes when she learned of it. It was the same look Jem gave me.

  The look of utter disappointment.

  To make matters worse, Ember had to mutter just loud enough for me to hear, “Who didn’t see that coming?”

  Ugh.

  Just remembering the pain of it made me breathless. That week-long depression took its toll on me.

  But I was out of it now.

  Because Locke told me to suck it up. Literally, he said, “What the fuck is wrong with your face these days? It’s weak. Quit being weak, Charlotte.”

  Then he proceeded to distract the crap out of me.

  Jem shook his head, irritated. “You ever wonder he’ll just get out and fuck it up again? That you genuinely might deserve better? That he’s in there and hasn’t reached out and maybe he’s gotten over you?”

  Oh, my God. It felt like Jem ripped my heart out. I sucked in a breath, but the tears fell anyway. His face broke with remorse, like he realized he’d fucked up.

  “I’m not saying that he has,” he whispered sympathetically. “I’d just hate for you to wait for nothing.”

  I wiped away my tears, but they wouldn’t stop. It was fucking Niagara Falls in the car. Even my nose started to run. Goddammit. I wiped all of it with the hem of my shirt, not caring how improper I looked.

  “I don’t know if he’s waiting, you’re right,” I choked out, my vision blurring. “But my heart keeps saying to hold on. He killed a man that hurt me, and he did it out of love for me. Nothing would betray our love more than if I gave up on him. He’s in there, and he could be thinking of me right this second. How could I ever let the chance of us being together go?”

  This time, Jem nodded, like he was finally getting his head wrapped around my point. But it was too late to pick up where we left off. I cut the lesson short and raced back home.

  There, I paced the house for hours, almost tempted to pick Penny up from Megan’s house just to fill the void.

  In the end, I was glad I didn’t.

  I sat on the porch overlooking the backyard, staring through tears at Conor’s workshop. It was so empty without him. I closed my eyes just to picture him strutting around in his overalls, smiling at me from the distance as I watched him from this very step.

  “You got snot all over your face,” Billy said, appearing right next to me. “It’s kind of disgusting, Charlotte.”

  I let out a short laugh, wiping at my face. “Who am I trying to impress, Billy?”

  “I don’t know, but it should be someone.”

  “I don’t care what people think about me.”

  “It isn’t that,” he murmured. “Taking pride in yourself might shake you out of this storm. Might make you see me less, too.”

  I looked over my clothes. I was in a baggy sweater and house pants. “You think I don’t take pride in myself?”

  “You look like trash. Not even a caveman would drag you into his cave. I get that you’re trying to ward people off, but you could do it with a bit of fucking taste.”

  I scoffed, aware that Billy’s words stemmed from my insecurities. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Don’t think, just do it. Hell, make Locke’s head turn for once. He barely blinks at you, you know.”

  I shot vampire looking Billy a dry expression. “I don’t want Locke’s attention.”

  “Yes, you do. Part of you would feel good if a powerful hot guy like that turned to look at you a little more.”

  My insides warmed. I let out another laugh. “I’m so crazy right now,” I exclaimed, slamming my palm against my forehead. “I’m talking to myself out in the open.”

  Billy waved his hand in a dramatic fashion around us. “In front of all the people?”

  I bit my lip at the deserted yard, chuckling. “You’re just a figment of my fucked-up imagination.”

  “Yeah, and how cool am I now?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Alright, Billy, you can fuck off now.”

  “No more crying, Charlotte. Time to toughen up.”

  “Toughen up by dressing good?” I asked dryly.

  Billy grinned, eyeing me closely. “If you get into the habit now, think of how gobsmacked Conor will be when he sees you for the first time in eight years. If he convinced him
self to move on, how long do you think it’ll last when you’re looking your best?”

  Ghost Billy had a point.

  I wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my face in my knees, daydreaming about the moment I reunited with Conor.

  What was it going to be like?

  “Are you thinking of me right now?” I wondered aloud, lost in my trance. “Are you in your cell, remembering how good we were together?”

  Billy leaned back against the step and looked up at the sky. “He’s thinking of you, Char.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he loves you. Because he killed me…for you.”

  Tears fell from my eyes as I looked at Billy. “I like you better this way.”

  “This way?” He dramatically looked himself over. “All manly and pale and dead?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Billy, all manly and pale and dead.”

  “Just think,” he said with a sad smile, “we were friends once. You slept in my bed and we made forts out of pillows and blankets. We were close. What happened to us, Char?”

  I frowned, feeling my heart slow. “I don’t know, Billy. Time changed you…and it changed me, too.”

  Would time change Conor?

  Would what we had survive all these years apart?

  That night I dropped Penny off at Megan’s for a sleepover with Lily. Then I loaded up on wine and decided to feel sorry for myself. I drank myself stupid on the couch, crying over pictures of Conor and I, while I had soft music playing in the background.

  It was so pathetic.

  But I told myself I would be this pathetic one last time. Billy was right. I would toughen up. I would smile and be positive and I would make the most out of life. Not for me, but for Penny.

  I was filling up on another glass of wine when a soft knock sounded. I sat still, straining to hear. When they came again, a little louder than before, I stood up and wandered to the door.

  I didn’t unlatch the chain lock or turn the porch lights on when I opened the door a bit to peek out. My tense shoulders relaxed at the sight of Jem, standing in front of me, looking uncertain. I shut it again, unlatched the lock, and opened the door wide.

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  “Hey,” he whispered back, looking over the state of me.

  I was aware my eyes were glazed, and I looked wrecked. It wasn’t my finest moment, and I wished he hadn’t come around to see me a mess. As I took him in, though, I noticed he wasn’t any better. His hair was ruffled, like he’d raked it through his hand many times. His leather jacket looked wrinkled, and his face was exhausted.

  “Look at us,” I chuckled dryly.

  He smiled sadly. “Aren’t we a happy bunch?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stepped closer and leaned down to my level, looking sincere when he said, “Darling, I’m so sorry for what I said this morning. I haven’t stopped seeing your crying face in my head all day.”

  I looked sincere. “Don’t be sorry, Jem.”

  “I feel like I have to explain myself,” he rushed out, looking distraught now. “Can I come in?”

  I nodded and opened the door wider for him. I stepped aside, but as he came through, I noticed how close he was to me. His hand grabbed mine and he took me to the living room. He sat me down on the couch but didn’t sit next to me. Instead, he knelt in front of me, his face at my level, his concerned eyes looking deeply at me.

  “I was worried Locke was making you do shit,” he spoke, calmly. “I know rumours mean nothing. I know that, but after you hear them so many times, they just seed themselves in your brain and they fester. I kept thinking you were with Locke intimately, and that got me thinking you weren’t going to wait for Conor…which got me thinking, I should have been more open to you about the way you make me feel.”

  My eyes widened in surprise. Oh, no. “Jem –”

  “Not like that,” he quickly amended as he pressed a finger to my mouth, silencing me. “You make me feel alive.” He smiled warmly. “I remembered how I used to be as a partner, a family man. And Penny reminded me of Addison, and it made me think of how fortunate I was to have had her however brief it was. Because we come and go, don’t we? We’re so temporary. The world blinks and we’re gone and we don’t matter anymore. Except…well, here, in the now, it’s important to matter to someone. It’s important to feel like you’re not just existing. You go to bed feeling like you got something to look forward to. You got someone, out there, caring for you. I want to believe that there’s someone out there for me now.”

  My heart burst at his words. “There’s someone out there, Jem,” I told him quietly. “I believe it.”

  Now his smile turned sad. “I want to feel like I’m deserving of that.”

  “Everyone deserves love.”

  He looked weighed down all of a sudden. His eyes misted over. “I’m not so sure, Charlotte. I keep waiting for my own penance.”

  My brows came together. “Penance for what?”

  “For all that I’ve done wrong. The guilt I carry isn’t enough. I deserve punishment.”

  I shook my head slowly, but no words came out. I watched him as he looked away, momentarily shrouded in his thoughts.

  “All of us used to be so close,” he suddenly said, his voice ragged. “Conor, Max…Dominic. The four of us were like brothers against the world. Each of us with our own demons. Each of us battling the hurt.” His lips twisted down. “Then, one day, we scattered. I won’t pretend not to know why.”

  I wanted to ask him why.

  But the look of sheer pain in his expression halted me entirely.

  I’d caught this look in Conor. When he talked about Jem or Locke or even Dominic, he would sometimes go quiet. His mind would stray in what I suspected was the very same place Jem’s mind strayed to.

  Something happened to these boys.

  A pain they shared, perhaps.

  Returning his focus to me, Jem offered me a warm smile. “I’d give anything for you to call me up one day and tell me you need me for whatever reason. I’d be there for you. You know that, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “Yes, you’ve proven that.”

  “I care, Charlotte, more than I’m willing to admit.”

  “I care, too.”

  “Conor’s my brother. I want to protect what’s his because he’d do it for me in a heartbeat.”

  “Thank you, Jem.” I meant it from the bottom of my heart.

  He sat down next to me and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me to his side. He was warm and despite looking like a wreck, he smelled nice. I shut my eyes at the affection. It took everything in me not to bawl my eyes out. I’d forgotten how nice it felt. I’d forgotten how much I needed it.

  We were just human beings at the end of the day, and we had basic needs. I pressed my face into his chest and inhaled. Then I wrapped my arm around his middle and hugged him tightly to me. He squeezed me back, and for a while, we cuddled like that, warm in each other’s arms.

  I hated that I pretended it was a different figure holding me, but even pretending felt all wrong.

  Conor’s arms would have swallowed me whole. He would have dragged me up his front, made me straddle him, and then he would have kissed the life out of me.

  I missed him.

  God, God, God, I missed him.

  “You look pleasant,” Locke said when I arrived for work.

  He said it without actually looking at me. He’d been standing by the window behind my desk, his eyes attached to some random spot. His compliment came out of nowhere. I had to pause at my desk and turn to look at him.

  “Are you…talking to me?” I asked, curiously.

  He toyed with his cufflinks, glimpsing down at them. “Yeah, I am.”

  “You think…you think I look good?”

  “I do.”

  Heat warmed my insides.

  Locke had never, ever complimented me.

  This was such a victorious moment.

  I looked over my work clot
hes. I was wearing a black pencil skirt and a flattering white top that showed off my cleavage. It was the first time in a long time I had spent longer than ten minutes getting ready.

  It was also nice not hitting up thrift shops for office attire. Ever since going full-time here as Locke’s accountant, my pay checks were very healthy looking.

  I was learning to enjoy the present and the comfort that extra bit of cash bought me.

  “Thanks,” I finally said, smiling broadly. “Laura came to visit me on the weekend, and we shopped ‘til we dropped. I never got that saying until now.”

  Glancing at me disinterestedly, he briskly retorted, “I don’t care, Charlotte.”

  Then he walked away, never looking back at me once.

  Yep, that was Locke for you.

  One second semi-nice, and the next…a complete cunt.

  This would never change.

  When Penny learned to speak fluently, it was adorable for five minutes. Then shit deteriorated fast.

  We argued, all the time, and her little heart couldn’t handle the word no. One second it was,

  “I love you.”

  The next, it was,

  “I hate you.”

  And then,

  “Go away, Mama.”

  But when Penny came down from her vicious little moments, she would find me waiting nearby, and she would come to me and wrap her little arms around me. We held each other because she was all I had, and I was all she had.

  And years would pass like this.

  She was my best friend, my partner in life. Without her, I dreaded to think where my path would have led. I fought the monsters in her closet. I nursed her when she was sick. I bathed her in the evenings. Made her breakfast, lunch and dinner. Tucked her into bed every single night. Read stories to her, hung her scribbles on the fridge with a magnet of her smiling face, and I listened. I listened because that was what a child needed the most. They needed to be heard.

  I was never heard.

  I had never been given time by my mom.

  I had learned to grow on my own and figure things out along the way with a father who knew little to nothing about raising a girl. I navigated the years of growth spurts, periods, and boys alone. I’d never resented my father for it. I’d never even resented my mother, either. I simply didn’t know to. You couldn’t expect someone to know the better side when they’d never experienced it.