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“Fuck, I need coffee.” I walk over to the coffee maker on the counter.
Chrissy was old school. No K-Cup maker for her. She likes to brew a full pot.
“Need coffee, huh?” I jump at the sound of Conor’s voice.
A yelp passed my lips. Startled, I jumped. Turning around, I hit my hip on the counter.
“Shit,” I hissed. “You scared me. Wait? What are you doing here?” I asked
Conor leaned forward on the sofa he was taking up space on. “I came to see you, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Where is Chrissy?” I asked looking around the apartment.
“She went to take a shower,” Conor rose from the sofa and made his way over to me.
He pulled out a stool to sit on the island.
“When the hell did you get here,” I asked.
“I came back last night to talk to you, but the door to the room was quiet. So, I didn’t want to wake you,” he said.
I poured my cup of coffee. For a moment, I was thankful that things didn’t go any further with Ryan because if Conor had caught us, he would have murdered both of us.
“I want to talk to you. Can you come sit with me?” he asked, after adding a little cream to my coffee, then returning it to the fridge.
I moved around the island and sat down beside my brother.
His head was bowed and focused on his coffee. I knew he felt guilty. I knew he was hurting for me. I knew he was worried—they all were.
I put a sympathetic hand on his arm and squeeze just a little, enough for him to know I was here.
“Ugh, Kenna, I’m sorry for what I said to you last night. I didn’t mean it. When I saw you walk into my office yesterday with bruises, these bruises.” He placed his hand on my cheek. “Fuck, it killed me.”
I leaned my cheek into his hand and smiled at my big brother. “I know it did. I love you too.”
“I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to protect you . . . I should be keeping you safe,” he said in a defeated tone.
“Conor, you were not there to—”
“Fuck, Kenna, I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I hadn’t heard Conor’s voice crack like that since he was a teenager.
“Conor, no. That isn’t what I mean. You’re my brother. I love you. I really do. But you can’t keep thinking you’re going to protect me all my life. I moved away. I made that choice. I left home, so I could take care of myself, and become independent.” I took Conor’s hand from my cheek and placed it into mine. “I’m okay now. I’m here away from Brad. I’m safe.”
The pain in my brother’s face was breaking my heart. Here was this giant of a man at least compared to me. Big and strong. He was a fighter and a trainer but most important, he was compassionate. Above all else, he was a gentle giant who would never hurt a woman.
Holding my hand, he looked at me. “When did it start?”
Not wanting to answer that question, I glanced down and blew into my coffee to avoid answering.
“Micky, answer me, please.”
“It wasn’t always that way. When I met Brad, he was a charmer, romantic. He would buy me flowers, take me to dinner in these quaint restaurants. He would hold me hand, give me his jacket when I was cold. He would open the car door for me. Then little things started to change. I can’t tell you exactly when, it was very subtle. He would get jealous over the stupidest thing.”
“What else?”
“He would make a comment about the way I dressed and thought I was seeking attention.”
