Page 91 of Make Me Mean It

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THEO

Cold brick bites into my palms as I shove both hands against the wall and drop my head between my shoulders.

Breathe.

Fucking breathe.

My lungs don’t seem interested. Every breath comes back too fast, scraping against my ribs while my pulse pounds hot and vicious in my throat. I dig my fingers into the brick until the rough surface catches the splits across my knuckles and tears them wider.

I push harder, grinding already-raw skin against the wall until pain shoots through my hands and up my arms. Blood slicks beneath my fingers, but I barely feel it when I can still see Connor lifting that glass to his mouth. Still see Darren’s hand covering the top of it earlier, knowing what he’d planned to do while Connor sat there completely unaware.

My palms slam into the brick again.

“Fuck,” it tears out through clenched teeth as another jolt of pain runs up my arms.

Still not enough.

I’m burning up despite the cold air hitting the sweat at the back of my neck, too much adrenaline still trapped beneath my skin with nowhere to fucking go. My hands twitch against the wall, wanting to hit something again, and I curl them into the brick instead.

Because apparently beating Darren half to fucking death didn’t do the job.

The door bangs shut behind me, and footsteps cut across the pavement in my direction. They keep coming, closing the space I came out here specifically to fucking get, until my jaw locks and my palms press harder into the brick.

“Go home.”

“Can’t,” Connor says.

I push off the wall, turning straight into him, tipping my chin down to meet his eyes, a small crease forming between his brows while he looks over the blood on my face.

Having no survival instincts at all, he pushes closer, thumb brushing under my jaw before falling away again. “You drove.”

His cologne hits me with the movement, clean and familiar beneath the stale smoke clinging to my clothes.

“This isn’t one of those times where the stubbornness is cute.” I force the words through my teeth. “Go back to Marcus. Go home. Go anywhere that’s not fucking here.”

Connor’s shoulders square, his chin coming up, blue eyes locking onto mine with that stubborn fucking look I know far too well by now.

Usually I like this version of him. The one who digs his heels in when I push, who gets that little crease between his brows and looks at me like he’d rather choke than give me what I want.

Not tonight.

“Enough,” he bites out. “You don’t get to order me anywhere.”

I catch his wrists and turn us, driving him back into the wall. His breath punches hot across my cheek with the impact, but I’m already following him in, dragging his hands above his head and holding them there as I crowd him against the brick.

“Then fucking listen.”

Connor yanks against my hold, every movement pressing more of him into me until I’m aware of too fucking much.

“This isn’t a fucking game, Connor.” My fingers bite into his wrists. “Don’t come out here and act like he didn’t just-”

The rest catches in my throat as I see that fucking glass at Connor’s mouth again, Darren standing there watching. I’d barely made it in time, my hand hitting the glass when the rim was already against his lips.

If I’d been any farther away-

My stomach turns.