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Luca had seen them last night, and they’d made him feel murderous.
“He shook me,” Harper said, her voice trembling.
“Never again,” Conor muttered darkly, in that tone that reminded Luca of the captor in the woods.
“Once your stitches are out, Conor and I will teach you some self-defense moves.”
“I’d like that,” she replied.
Luca raised a finger. “But only if you promise not to use them against us the next time that guy visits.” When he said that guy, he jerked his thumb in Conor’s direction.
His joke—thank God—had the desired effect, as he managed to get a smile out of Harper…and Conor.
She gave them both a kiss on the cheek. “Deal.”
Luca returned her kiss, placing a soft one on her lips and she sighed, the tension in her body loosening until she sagged against him, more relaxed than he’d seen her since they’d left the cabin.
“Talking to the two of you, being here with you…”
“It helps?” Luca asked.
Her contented sigh was all the answer he needed.
She nodded. “You make me feel safe.”
“Safe,” Conor whispered.
Luca turned to Conor. “Your turn. Talk to us.”
Conor rubbed his neck wearily. “Okay.”
Chapter Sixteen
Conor followed his lovers as they headed to the living room, dodging the stacks of books, as they claimed their usual spots on the sectional couch. Harper took the corner, with Luca sitting right next to her. It wasn’t lost on either of them that Conor had elected to put some distance between them by sitting at one end of the sectional.
He wasn’t sure he could say the words with the two of them in such close proximity.
“Conor.”
He knew Luca was going to demand that he shift closer, but Conor held up his hand to stop him. “I have some things to say—a lot of things, actually—and I…” Conor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. “It’s not easy for me, but I need to explain why I’ve been trying to keep my distance from you.”
“What is it?” Harper asked softly.
“I didn’t come last night because I had…” He swallowed heavily. “A panic attack.”
Luca and Harper looked at each other, and Conor could tell they were at a loss for words. He didn’t blame them because he hadn’t given them enough. Panic attacks, like Gage pointed out, weren’t exactly unusual.
He raked his hand through his hair. God. He had already said these words once today to his brothers, so he couldn’t understand why this was still so hard.
Probably because there was a tiny part of him that was terrified they would decide he was too weak and move on without him. He knew that negative feeling was driven by his fucking father again, the man never once treating his youngest son as if he had any value. Dante Russo had his heir and his spare, which meant Conor was unnecessary. The only time Dad ever paid attention to him was when he screwed up.
“It was a bad one, probably one of my worst,” Conor continued.
“One of your worst?” Harper asked.
He nodded.
“Do you know what brought it on?” Luca asked.
