Connor’s eyes narrowed for a split second before that insufferable grin returned. “Maybe so,” he conceded, stepping away from the Impala and towards the door. “But it’s mine all the same.”
His smirk widened as he sauntered toward the office. I followed him, the tension in my shoulders building with every step. He stopped short when he spotted the basket of cookies Beth had brought.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, picking up one of the cookies and inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. “What do we have here? You got yourself an admirer?”
My gut twisted. The last thing I wanted was for Connor to know anything about Beth. Something about her made me feel protective, though I couldn’t explain why. She was a bright spot in a world that had been nothing but dark for so long.
Connor took a bite of the cookie, crumbs falling to the floor. It felt like a violation; him tainting something pure and kind. The anger that had simmered under my skin flared up, boiling over.
“Put it down,” I snapped, my voice colder than I intended.
He raised an eyebrow, chewing slowly. “What’s got your panties in a twist? She got a hold of your balls?”
I stepped closer, fists clenched at my sides. “Leave her out of this.”
Connor’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Who is this bitch?”
That did it. I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him toward the door, my breath coming in sharp bursts.
“Get out,” I growled through gritted teeth.
He stumbled back, surprise flickering across his face before he regained his composure. Straightening his jacket, he smirked again.
“Touchy,” he mocked. “Fine, Daryl. I’ll leave you to your little love affair.”
He swaggered outside, the cold air biting at our faces. I followed him, my fists still clenched, fury thrumming through my veins. He turned, that insufferable smirk plastered on his face.
“Good cookie, you know,” he said, his tone mocking. “I wonder if everything else about her tastes as sweet.”
Before he could finish his sentence, my fist connected with his jaw. The satisfying crack echoed in the quiet night, my knuckles throbbing from the impact. Connor stumbled back, surprise and anger flashing in his eyes.
We'd fought before—more times than I could count—but this was different. This wasn’t about us. This was about her.
Connor’s face twisted into a snarl as he regained his balance. “You bastard,” he spat, swinging a punch that landed squarely on my cheekbone. Pain exploded across my face, but I stood my ground.
“Family is blood,” he growled, rubbing his jaw where I’d hit him. “Pussy isn’t going to get between us.”
We glared at each other, chests heaving with adrenaline and anger. My cheek throbbed where he'd struck me, but the pain only fueled my rage. His words echoed in my mind, each one like a knife twisting deeper.
This wasn’t about family anymore. This was about respect—something Connor had never understood.
We stood there for a moment longer, the tension between us crackling like static in the cold air. Neither of us moved, each waiting for the other to back down first.
I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
Connor scoffed, a sneer pulling at his lips. "It ain't even worth my time," he muttered before turning away, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
I watched him go, a mix of relief and regret twisting in my gut. Part of me wished he'd stay away for good. The other part felt guilty; it was just the two of us now. Family, whether I liked it or not.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and rubbed my sore knuckles. The cold night air bit into my skin as I turned back towards the garage.
Closing the door to the office, I leaned against it for a moment, letting the silence wash over me. The anger slowly ebbed away, replaced by a gnawing sense of emptiness. Connor always had that effect—leaving chaos in his wake and taking a piece of me with him.
My eyes fell on the basket of cookies still sitting on the workbench. A few crumbs lay scattered where Connor had taken his bite. I brushed them off, trying to erase any trace of him from this small kindness Beth had offered.
I moved to the corner where the Impala stood, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Running a hand over its hood, I felt the smooth surface beneath my fingertips. This car was more than just metal and machinery; it was a project that had kept me grounded when everything else seemed to fall apart.
Beth’s face flashed in my mind—her bright eyes and hopeful smile as she handed me that basket. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into my mess with Connor. She deserved better.
