"Isn't it?" He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "You think these people give a damn about you? They’ll use you up and spit you out just like before."
"Enough." My voice came out harder than I intended.
"Is this about the girl?" Connor's voice dripped with sarcasm. "The blonde girl way too young for someone like you? With her cookies? Are you... are you falling for her?"
"Connor," I warned, my fists clenching tighter.
"Wow." He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're serious, aren't you? Falling for some little café owner? This is rich."
"Shut up," I said, my voice low and dangerous.
"What's next, Daryl?" he snapped. "Gonna start writing love songs and serenading her? Maybe you can help her bake cookies too. Bet she'd love that."
My jaw tightened. "Don't."
But Connor didn't stop. He never did. "You think she's gonna fix you, huh? Think a few smiles and some baked goods will make everything better? Pathetic."
I stepped closer, the air between us thick with tension. "Watch your mouth."
"Oh, I get it," he said with a cruel smile. "You think she's different. Special. But she's just another pretty face that'll get bored with you once she sees the real you."
"Connor—"
"Face it, Daryl," he interrupted, his voice rising. "You're a mess. Always have been, always will be. And that girl? She's too good for someone like you. She'll realize it soon enough."
"Shut up." My voice shook with barely controlled rage.
"You really think she'll stick around?" Connor continued, relentless. "She's probably just playing with you, feeling sorry for the sad mechanic."
My blood boiled as he went on.
"And that singing?" He laughed harshly. "You probably think it's sweet or something. But it's just a game to her. She doesn't care about you."
"Enough!" I roared.
But he wasn't done yet.
"Once she fixes you, she'll move onto the next guy, and then the next," he said. "Broken's the only thing she wants. She'll fill up her pussy with someone else as soon as?—"
My fist connected with his jaw before I even realized I'd moved.
Connor stumbled back, clutching his face in shock and anger. The room seemed to close in around us as we stood there, breathing hard, eyes locked in a silent battle.
He wiped the blood from his lip and smirked through the pain. "Guess I hit a nerve."
He glanced at the wreath and spit blood.
"You're pathetic," he said, his words like daggers. "You should know better."
My breathing was heavy, each inhale a struggle. Deep down, I knew he was right. I hated admitting it, even to myself. But he always knew how to hit where it hurt most.
"Fucking pussy," he taunted, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Fucking bastard," I shot back, the rage boiling over.
Without warning, Connor swung at me. His fist connected with my jaw, sending a sharp pain radiating through my skull. I staggered back but quickly regained my footing. The garage blurred into a backdrop of shadows and flickering lights.
I lunged forward, landing a punch square on his nose. He grunted, stumbling back into the workbench. Tools clattered to the ground, the sound echoing through the confined space. Connor wiped the blood from his nose and charged at me like a bull seeing red.
