The Grean Household

50: A Resolution

Connor repeatedly apologized. Willow could tell he was terrified.

They managed to work it out, though Connor knew he'd have to spend money to fix the windows in his car. They both returned safely to campus. Willow was wondering if this was a story she could tell Sammy, or if he'd try to hit Connor for putting her in danger. Despite the literacy of it, Willow didn't feel any ounce of fear for being with him, though Connor kept apologizing like she did.

She knew he couldn't control the other people's behavior, or the fact that she was shot at more than five times. Perhaps it was her way of making excuses to continue being with him, even though it put her in danger. She decided it'd be better to bury the story, and continue on like nothing happened. Connor seemed to like the decision, though it didn't stop his apologies. Willow could tell by the way he rubbed his hands together often, picking at his fingernails that he was anxious that the incident would drive her away.

It almost did.

But there was something that kept pulling her back. Maybe it was the overlaying thought that Connor did everything in his power to protect her, despite being scared for his own life. She found it flattering, even though the entire situation was life-threatening and made her antsy to get back into a car with him.

They decided to keep their dates far from the city and on campus as small little movie nights and lunches. Willow was okay with it and Connor seemed overjoyed that she kept her promise of staying.

One question arose when they were snuggled together on a couch, watching a movie. She asked it quietly, which had Connor humming so she'd repeat the question. 

How'd you learn to drive like that? Connor seemed to take a moment to think of something. After a moment, Willow huffed, sitting up, hand on his chest. 

Don't lie to me. She said after a moment, her tone sharp, stabbing a hole in all of Connor's defenses.

Connor huffed, running his hand through his hair. 

To be honest...? Willow tilted her head, watching as Connor fought through whatever instinct that resided in his body. He desperately wanted to lie, Willow could see it, though her firm demand almost made it impossible for him to. 

Can you promise me something?

Anything. Willow muttered. 

Don't look at me like I'm a criminal, because I'm not. She started to prepare herself, though she knew there was nothing he could do that was worse than what she's done. 

I used to be a getaway driver for robberies. Those "friends" was the small crew that I was invited to.

When was this? Willow furrowed her eyebrows

When you left. 

Willow huffed gently, settling back down on the couch, hand still on his chest. 

I told you... those years were rough. Willow didn't want to reveal that the hand that was placed on Connor's chest had been used to kill two people. She wanted to laugh at his answer, though she knew it wouldn't make him feel any better. So she remained silent.

Are you-? Connor began to ask, his slow question illustrating just how much terror was coursing through his veins. Willow could see it in his soft brown eyes, yet couldn't feel it underneath her digits.

I'm not mad. Or disgusted. I was just wondering. Connor seemed to take it for half of its worth, beginning to explain why he did it: it was for money- money for him and his old man. Willow realized she never met Connor's parents. He barely mentioned them. Then, he spoke again.

I did it because I needed to. When we were comfortable again, I stopped. That made them angry, and- Willow stopped him. 

You don't need to explain anything to me, Connor. She wanted to get the confession of murder off her chest, but she knew it'd have to go with her to her grave. The burden never got lighter, and she had been carrying it for what felt like eternity. 

If anyone understands... She said.

It's me.