Page 72 of Defend Her Heart

I give him a soft smile. “Well, let me get out of your way.” I start to walk around him but don’t get farther than two steps when I feel his hand on my upper arm. I stop and turn to face him and am met with a beatific smile.

“Avery. I was waiting for you.”

He drops his hand and I push my hair out of my face nervously. “Oh.”

Connor laughs, and it’s music to my ears. “Yeah, oh. We’ve barely spent any time together since I got back from Sweden and I wanted to see you. Even if it meant I only got to walk you to your car and say good night.”

I want to squeal with joy but I also know he doesn’t need the ego boost. Somehow I manage to stay calm when I respond.

“Actually, I didn’t drive today. Do you think you could give me a ride home?”

His eyes narrow, and I know he wants to ask about my car, but instead steps behind me and places a hand on my lower back. “It would be my honor.”

Connor leads me to the players’ exit and helps lift me into his truck like it’s second nature. There’s no hesitation in the way his hand settles on my waist, no flicker of uncertainty in my chest when I place my hand in his. And maybe that’s what this is now—second nature.

A few weeks ago, every touch felt loaded, like one wrong move would snap whatever fragile thing was building between us. But now there’s a quiet confidence in it. His hands don’t hesitate, and I don’t pull away.

Somewhere between our first run-in at the hospital, the test, and the quiet moments in between, the sharp edgesbetween us have worn down. What’s left feels easy. It’s still him. Still us.

It feels like we can finally stop pretending we don’t belong here.

Connor pulls out of the parking lot and this time he turns left to head toward Tamara’s place, instead of his. The disappointment I feel takes me by surprise. What was I expecting? To go hang out at his place? I guess maybe a part of me was. But this is better. The lines between us can’t be blurred. This thing that’s happening between us is for one reason only, and that’s for me to get the help I finally need.

I push the disappointment aside and reach for his phone. “Can I turn on some music?”

He glances my way quickly and nods. “Sure.”

Picking up his phone, I swipe the screen but it asks for a passcode. I go to hand him his phone. “It’s asking for your code.”

Connor keeps his hands on the wheel and doesn’t so much as look my way when he says, “0-1-1-1-9-8.”

I pause for a beat, surprised he so easily gave me access to his phone. No suspicion, no hesitation, no grabbing it back from me. Just immediate trust.

And then the numbers register and all of the air is sucked from my lungs.

Seconds tick by and I still haven’t moved. When I still haven’t played any music, Connor finally turns his head toward me. He glances to the road and back a few times.

“Need help picking a song?”

He’s just going to pretend like this isn’t a big deal? Yeah, not going to let this one pass by this time.

“Your passcode is still my birthday?”

I barely recognize my own voice when I say it. It’s quiet and uneasy in a way I didn’t mean for it to be.

Connor doesn’t answer right away. The air in the truck is thick with tension now. His hands stay locked on the wheel, hisfocus fixed straight ahead on the road. But I see it, the slight tightening in his grip, the way he struggles to swallow.

“It’s easy to remember.”

His words do something to me. Because it isn’t just the passcode.

It’s his apartment, built from pieces of a dream we came up with together. It’s the way he showed up for me, took care of me, like there was no other option for him. It’s his phone still secured by a piece of me like I never stopped mattering to him.

Like I never stopped being his.

The spot between my ribcage aches with it all. It’s too full, like I don’t know what to do with this information and don’t know where to put all of it.

I should say something, but my words fail me. I should make him explain and demand to know why he held onto all of this when I thought he completely moved on from me. But the words won’t come.