“Sorry,” Connor said, glancing at Trevor’s pensive expression. “For the tone, only.”
“I wouldn’t say I stomped,” Trevor replied after a moment of thought. “And it’s a sand path anyway, so what does it matter?”
“It matters if it wakes me up.”
“Now you can sleep in your bed, at least.” Trevor cast Connor a wary look. “You’ll be in a better mood after a few more hours of it, I suspect.”
Trevor suspected wrong.
Laurence waited on the porch for them. He looked as relieved as Trevor had when he’d seen Connor on the dock. Connor levelled his irritation at Laurence. “What did I say yesterday about waking me up this early?”
“You were sleeping out there?” Laurence asked, confused. “I was worried when you weren’t in your room.”
Connor walked up the steps to Laurence, stopping only when they were on level footing, and Connor could use his height to stare down his nose at Laurence. “And why were you in my room at five a.m.?”
Laurence’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hands grasping his sleeves as he jittered with nerves. “I just—”
Trevor’s hand clapped Connor’s shoulder and pulled him back a step out of Laurence’s space. “None of the intimidation tactics,” Trevor said pointedly. “Use your words.”
“I used my words yesterday,” Connor pointed out. “They did about as much as yours.”
“I do listen to Dad,” Laurence said defensively. “I thought you might be upset.”
“While fast asleep?”
“I thought you might not be able to sleep,” Laurence said. “I was going to offer a hug or something nice to eat if that was the case. Isnuckin, so I wouldn’t wake you if you were sleeping.” His face grew redder as he spoke, and Connor took in his embarrassed demeanour. “I was worried when you weren’t there, so I got Dad.”
The acid exterior of his grumpiness melted. He couldn’t be sharp and mean when Laurence had been worried about him. When he was just being sweet.
“I’m not upset,” Connor said.
“Yeah, okay.” Laurence looked away from Connor, his gaze skittering across the ground. His eyes were glassy like he was fighting back tears.
The guilt rose up, overwhelming and strong.
“Come on then,” Connor said. “Give me the hug.”
Laurence’s gaze jerked to Connor’s face, his eyes wide. “Really?”
“Yeah—ugh,” Connor grunted as Laurence launched himself against him. Very wisely, Trevor kept his hand on Connor’s shoulder to spare them from ending up in the sand. Laurence wrapped his arms tightly around Connor’s midsection. “You shouldn’t read anything anyone writes about you,” Laurence said into Connor’s shirt. Connor had to strain his ears to interpret the shirt-obscured words.
“I don’t,” Connor said. Since the very first few days after the story broke, he’d avoided all media like the plague.
“And you’re not going to go to jail,” Laurence said.
“Yeah, I’d rather not.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Laurence said fiercely.
Connor refused to snort or laugh—Laurence was serious about trying to help him, and Connor wasn’t going to mock him for it. He’d learned his lesson two seconds ago that he’d only regret it if he upset Laurence. And he’d end up taking it back, anyway.
Connor petted Laurence’s back. “And what was the nice thing you were going to feed me to cheer me up?”
“Homemade soup and bread. With the bread fresh out of the oven and still hot enough the butter melts onto it.”
“I’ll take you up on it,” Connor said. “And after.” He glanced at Trevor. “I’m going out on my paddleboard.”
“Please don’t tell me you go out on the water and fall asleep.”
