Connor couldn’t even finish the thought. Her not wanting them, that was one thing, but her not being alive anymore was a far different thing.
She peered at her lap instead of them.
Not a good sign…
“Hey there, sweet.” Trent leaned his hip against the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” she admitted, her finger tracing the designs on the blanket. “I can’t believe it’s over.”
“Aren’t you happy about that?” Garrison asked, taking a spot on the other side of the bed.
She nodded. “I just never thought it would be. These last years, I’ve always been on alert, waiting, you know? But there’s no way he’ll talk himself out of this. He’s going away, at least for a few years. I just…I don’t even know what to do with myself now.”
“Whatever you want,” Garrison said. “That’s the point. No more looking over your shoulder, no more worrying he’ll show back up. You’ll finally get to just do whatever it is you want.”
Would they be a part of that? Connor had a feeling he knew the answer. It was part of the answer as to why she hadn’t reached out to them, why she hadn’t called them, why she wouldn’t even look at them.
Not that he regretted doing any of it. He wanted her happy, even if it wasn’t with him.
At least, that was what he told himself. It was true, but hard to accept right then.
“Thank you,” she said.
“We didn’t do anything,” Connor said back, frowning. “By the time we showed up, you’d already dealt with him.”
She peered up, meeting Connor’s gaze. “I never fought him before. I always crumbled because I didn’t know I was worth anything. I thought that was my place. He spent so long tearing me down and making me think I couldn’t do anything back, that fighting was pointless. The only reason Icouldfight him tonight, the only reason I was able to survive, was because you helped me see that I could, that I deserved something more, that I could have something better.”
Connor reached out, wrapping his fingers around her ankle and squeezing once, trying to walk that line between comfort and too much. “I always knew you had it in you.”
“He said I was his, that I had always belonged to him, but I told him I didn’t. He asked me who I belonged to.”
Connor held some stupid hope that she’d said them, that she wastheirs. Maybe it was neanderthal, but he wanted her to be theirs, to want to be theirs.
“I told him I was my own.”
Connor ignored the ache in his chest at that, like a final nail in the coffin of his hopes.
Garrison nodded and took a step backward, as if he’d read it the same. “We should let you get some sleep. Offer still stands, Sunny, just like before. You’ve got our number—you know where we are.”
She nodded but didn’t ask them to stay, didn’t say she’d call.
And the reason was clear, wasn’t it?
Because she wouldn’t.