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"I know what he said, Rory, but his story didn't add up," Connor explained softly.
"What are you talking about, Connor? There were no other witnesses and he's the one that got hurt. How exactly didn't his story add up?"
Locking his eyes on her, he gently took her good hand off his arm and placed it on the left side of his chest. When she opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, he glided her hand over his chest. It took a moment before a small raised line registered and when it did, she shook off his hand and traced her fingers over the three inch scar that she'd never noticed before. Not that anyone would have really had a chance to see the scar with his tattoo covering the area.
When he raised his left hand, palm out, her eyes landed on a long thin scar that ran across it. Without a word, she reached up with a shaky hand and traced the thin scar that ran across his palm that she'd always assumed was from working construction.
"Defensive wound," she said numbly as she dropped her hand to her side.
"Yes," Connor said, pushing away from the wall and moving away from her. When he sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped his head in his hands, it surprised her how badly she wanted to go to him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, leaning her head back and looking up at the ceiling, desperately trying not to lose it as something occurred to her.
He hadn't ruined her life.
That was all her. She'd ruined her life by getting drunk and going off with some ass**le. She'd put them both in that situation and because of her, Connor had been hurt.
"There was no point in telling you, Rory. It was done."
"You were in the cell with me the next morning, Connor. How did you manage that if you were injured?" she asked, trying to find a hole in his story, instinctively knowing that she wouldn't find any. For all his faults, Connor was not a liar.
"I let them stitch me up and then left against medical advice when they wanted me to stay the night," he explained softly.
"Why?" she found herself asking even though she wasn't really sure that she could handle anything more tonight.
"I couldn't stomach the idea of you being in a jail cell like that, Rory. By the time the ambulance came, you were already having problems. I made them bring you to the hospital, but they only kept you there long enough to give you some fluids before they released you to the police."
"Why did my father hit you?" she asked, wondering if her father knew Connor's role in everything. She doubted it. Her father would never strike someone that protected one of his children.
"He didn't know what happened. The only thing that he knew was that I followed you to Canada and that you were arrested, facing some pretty serious charges."
"You could have corrected him on that," she said, feeling her eyes tear up once again. She hated crying, didn't want to do it, but damn Connor if he didn't have her close to crying her eyes out.
"You had enough to deal with, Rory. It was simpler for me to take the brunt of his anger."
Taking a slow, steady breath, she dropped her gaze to Connor and for the first time in years she didn't know what to feel when she looked at him. She couldn't hate him, wanted to, but she couldn't. He'd saved her, cared for her and protected her and she'd been an absolute bitch to him over the years, not that he didn't deserve some of it, but there was no way that he deserved all of it.
"Why did you come after me, Connor?" she whispered, praying that he wouldn't say or do anything else that would rock her world. She really didn't know how much more she could take.
"In the top drawer," he said, tilting his head to the side so that he could watch her.
Heart pounding in her chest, she walked over to his bureau. She threw him one last look to find him sitting there with his head once again in his hands and she couldn't help but wonder just how bad this was going to be. After taking a fortifying breath, she reached up and opened the drawer.
It slid out easily, but that wasn't exactly surprising since there wasn't much inside, not much at all. In the middle of the drawer sat a small velvet jewelry box.
"What is this?" she asked, swallowing nervously as she picked it up.
"Your birthday gift, Rory."
Her hands shook so badly that she almost dropped the box, twice, but after a minute she managed to open it. Her chin trembled as she traced the tiny diamond with the tip of her finger. It was the smallest diamond ring that she'd ever seen, but it was without a doubt the most beautiful one that she'd ever laid her eyes on.
She pulled the ring out of the box for a closer look when something inside the ring caught her eye. Swallowing hard, she turned the ring over until the dim bedroom light hit the inscription just right and when it did, she almost dropped it as she read the three letters engraved on the ring.
LRJ
Chapter 29
Him and his big f**king mouth.
If he'd just kept his mouth shut and his feelings for her to himself, at least for a little while, they wouldn't be sitting here rehashing all of this bullshit. This wasn't how he wanted her to find out. Actually, he never planned on telling her, but he knew the moment that he walked into that bathroom to face her that the choice was no longer his to make. Now she knew what a pathetic ass**le he really was.
"What does LRJ stand for?" she asked softly as she knelt down in front of him.
"Little Rory James," he admitted with a sad smile, knowing that he'd truly gone and f**ked up his one chance with her.
"May I?" she asked, gesturing with her broken hand to his chest. With a small nod, he leaned back and wasn't too surprised when she traced her fingers over her initials that he'd had tattooed all those years ago when he'd had a little bit too much beer and not enough common sense not to tattoo the name of a woman who hated him on his body. He'd been young and foolish and now he just felt old and stupid.
"The suites are yours, Rory," he said when he couldn't think of anything else to say.
"I know," she said softly as she continued to trace the letters, looking mesmerized by the tattoo.
"The deal's off, too," he needlessly explained, licking his lips and trying not to moan when her fingers teasingly traced over his nipple.
"Yes, it is," she said, running her fingers to the other side of his chest while he sat there, trying to remain unaffected, but it was nearly impossible with Rory touching him.
"What were you hoping to get out of this deal?" she asked, slowing her movements as she looked up and met his gaze.
"It doesn't matter," he said truthfully, because none of it mattered without her, not Strawberry Manor, not his business, nothing. It might have taken him a while to figure it out, but he knew that the only thing that mattered to him was Rory. Her touches gave him hope that they might have a future, but he wasn't a fool. He'd pissed her off and she'd be justified in toying with him.
