Connor had never been out of the Bronx for longer than a couple hours until he enlisted with the navy. At first, it had been because his family couldn’t afford vacations, or hell, even a trip to Ellis Island, on his father’s disability check. Connor couldn’t remember a time when his father hadn’t sat on their living room couch, bitter and disgusted with the world. Demanding meals, arguing with his insurance provider on the phone, drinking. Always, the drinking.
His father’s penchant for imbibing too much whiskey and turning violent had been the latter reason Connor hadn’t strayed too far from the Bronx. Maybe at one time he’d been too young to protect his mother, but around age thirteen, that had drastically changed. Over the course of a summer, he’d outgrown his father in every way possible. He’d started to meet the fists that had been flying at his mother since he could remember with blows of his own. He could still remember the first time he stopped his father’s fist in midair and felt bones creak in protest against his palm. Connor felt no shame admitting there had been ample satisfaction in seeing his father’s shock.
By age sixteen, Connor thought he’d had his father handled. There was an unspoken threat that if something happened to his mother ever again, Connor would make him sorry. His father had even cut back on the drinking, even attending the odd AA meeting. It had been a rare snippet of time in their household where it had felt almost peaceful. His mother, Joanna, had started to smile again. Started going back to church since she didn’t have to hide the black eyes anymore. He’d gotten comfortable, even dating a couple girls in his sophomore class.
The night his father died, Connor had walked into the house after one such date and stopped cold in the entryway. It wasn’t even late, but all the lights were off, except for in the kitchen. He could see it emanating from beneath the still-swinging door. Silent. So silent. He’d known before he even entered the kitchen that he’d find his mother. She sat with her back against the refrigerator door, knees pulled up to her chest, pressing a bag of frozen carrots to her eye.
“How was your date?” she’d asked him, words muffled because of a busted lip. Then she’d promptly burst into tears.
Connor could remember mentally checking out, almost as if there’d been an audible click. He’d left his mind in the kitchen and taken his rage-filled body elsewhere. Operating on pure testosterone, he’d stormed back through the house to find his father attempting to sneak down the stairs with his jacket. They had both frozen for a split second, long enough for Connor to communicate what he was going to do. But his father fell out the door first, fast on his feet despite his obvious inebriation. Connor had sprinted after him out onto the sidewalk.
What happened after that remained clear in his head. It might as well have happened last night. Or this morning. It was his greatest shame and yet only the beginning of what the following years would bring.
He turned his attention to Erin, who sat beside him silently, pressed up against the window of the bus. So petite, yet so bold. Some of the time. Her sadness was seeping into his bones with every passing moment, and he needed to fix it. There was a part of him that wanted to shout and put his fist through more glass, but it would only confirm to her that they’d failed. And he didn’t think they had. Not by a long shot. How could he when she’d shaken from pleasure on his lap? It was a sight he’d be replaying in his head for a long, long time. What happened afterward didn’t have to take away from it.
“I want to take you somewhere.”
She met his gaze in the window. “Okay.”
Just like that. She trusted him not to take her somewhere she’d be uncomfortable. It made him even more determined to prove today had been amazing. Because, Jesus, he was still hard as fuck in his jeans just thinking about it. Suspected he would be for a good, long while. Sex wasn’t the answer right now, though, badly as he wanted it to be. Badly as he needed her. No, she’d been vulnerable in front of him this afternoon, and for people like them, that was a tough pill to swallow. So he’d make sure she didn’t have to do it alone. Even if the thought of exposing himself made his head pound.
“I was discharged from the SEALs for beating a civilian.”
Very slowly, Erin straightened. She blinked a few times, as if trying to figure out why he would reveal something like that. On a bus. Out of nowhere. “Why?”
Connor fought the urge to yank her onto his lap, bury his face in her hair while he told the story. “We were on a mission. I can’t tell you where.” He cleared his throat. “For days, we were in a safe house, waiting for our target. Just…waiting. Not moving or talking. We couldn’t.”
“I’d go crazy.” She frowned. “Crazier, I mean.”