“It’s not that simple,” he tells me, a tremor in his usually brick-walled voice.
“It is!” I shout at him. I point at my chest. “You either fucking played me or you didn’t!”
“I love you,” he refutes, his gaze daggered on me.
It takes me aback. Because Connor has admitted to only loving himself. To then loving Rose. No one else. But I know this isn’t sexual or romantic. It’s the kind of love that I have for my brother. The kind that Rose has for her sisters.
He grimaces like the fact is hard for him to accept. “Lo, I don’t…love many people. But there is no manipulation in what I feel for you. The truth is, I gave you what I thought you needed, affection and praise, but I had no motives for it. I didn’t use you for anything.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he raises his hand quickly.
“Wait, let me finish.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “You’re my liability because I love you. The night you relapsed, I thought you were going to die.” He pauses. “…and that fact nearly crippled me. I couldn’t even drive, Lo.” He shakes his head like he doesn’t want to imagine that night. “I care about you, what happens to you, and it’s a weakness any way I look at it. Like your father once asked, what do I get out of it? I told him the truth. I get your friendship. That’s all I want.”