“You’re on probation.You’llbe the one in trouble.”
“Not when we’re standing under a camera and you swing first,” Connor said. “What will your dad think about you acting like a violent thug? How’s Laurence going to look at you afterwards?”
Nick was furious but not so furious as to lose his reason.
Nick pulled himself back from the edge, restraint swarming back into his expression. “Stay away from Laurence,” Nick spat. He turned on his heels and stormed back to his coffee machine. Jugs and cups clattered together as he violently worked on making a cup of coffee.
Connor leaned against the counter, waiting and wishing he could be anywhere else. Longing for the ocean. The open waters… If only Trevor trusted him enough to leave him alone for the weekend.
Wishes became prayers as the day went on.
The cafe quickly filled up with people, and Nick spat at him to go take orders. Connor was surprised by the attitudes of people and the mildness that he was treated with, even when he was recognised.
“Well, well. How the mighty have fallen,” a girl taunted.
Connor, in the middle of wiping a board, turned. A red-haired belle with dark eyes stared at him from the small gap that gave them access to the floor. His back straightened under her scrutiny, and then stiffened as he saw the was obvious delight swimming in her gaze.
“What do you want, Mary?” Connor asked. The air shifted behind him and knew Nick was looking.
“Why so defensive? Are you embarrassed at the sorry state you’re in now? How you’ve—”
“Stop it,” a male voice cut in. From around the corner came a bigger guy with the same red hair but lighter, greener eyes. Those eyes flicked toward Connor, studying him. Connor hated those kind eyes.
If there was anyone in the town delighted to hear the mess Connor got himself into, it was these two. And rightly so.
“How’s life treating you?” Mary asked, lips curved into a sly smile.
Sam didn’t seem to get the same perverse delight out of seeing Connor. “I said stop,” his voice was stern. “Go order the coffee.”
Mary cast Connor another grin before making her way to the Nick at the coffee machine. Sam stayed there, eyes on Connor.
“What?”
“Can we talk outside for a minute?” Sam asked.
Connor stayed rooted to the spot. What could they possibly have to talk about? Sam wasn’t sharp the same way Mary was, but he certainly wasn’t soft. Not toward Connor, not for years, now.
“Why?”
Sam glanced uncomfortably toward Mary and Nick, then back to Connor. Connor didn’t need eye contact to get that this wasn’t something he wanted to say within earshot of them.
“I called you,” Sam said. “You didn’t answer.”
“Doesn’t that tell you enough?”
Sam’s lips pressed together, thinning into a hard line.
“You’re always such a shit, Connor,” Mary said, voice sharp.
“Mary, I’m serious. Stop it.” Sam scowled at her.
Nick didn’t seem smug that someone had taken up the role of verbal abuse, nor did he seem opposed to it. He glanced at Connor as if curious how he was going to respond. And what could Connor even say? He didn’t want to be sharp to Sam. But what choice did he have? If he showed weakness, he’d be eaten alive.
“Fine,” Connor said. He joined the siblings on the other side of the counter. “Let’s talk.” He paused as he passed by Mary. “Me and Sam, all alone, with no big sister to save him from me.”
Anger flared in her eyes. “Don’t you—”
“I’ll be out the side door,” Connor said over her head, directing it toward Nick. Connor didn’t wait for anyone’s reply; he strode down the side hall that led to the bathrooms and went outside the staff exit. He stood on the gravel path that lined the building, and a second later, Sam joined him.
