Heartache and Hope: Heartache Duet Book One

by Jay McLean

  He sits up, his hand still on my nape, keeping me in place. He buries his face in my neck, his shallow breaths heating me. “Fuck,” he says again.

  “What’s wrong? Do you not want—”

  “No, Ava. Jesus Christ, of course I want that. It’s just… I don’t want this.”

  “You don’t want what?”

  He settles his forehead against mine, his eyes shut. He takes a few calming breaths, his shoulders heaving. Then he says, “I keep telling myself that I can do this—whatever this is. But we keep straddling the line between friendship and more… and sure, I can keep doing this with you. I can keep waking up every morning wondering whether that day will be a day I get to hold your hand or kiss you or touch you or just speak to you. I can do that every day for the rest of my life, and you’ll be worth it, but… but I don’t want to, Ava. I don’t fucking want to.”

  “I can’t give you what you want,” I whisper, tears pricking behind my eyes.

  His forehead drops to my shoulder, his single sigh the sound of defeat. He murmurs, “You keep saying that like you know what I want.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  He looks up now, his eyes locked on mine. “You, Ava. I want you. On your good days and your bad days—especially your bad days. I want you to let me in. I want you to come to me and look at me the way you’re looking at me now, and know that I’m all in. I just want you.” His voice cracks. “God, Ava. I want you so fucking bad, it’s killing me.”

  “I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes.”

  My mind tells me that it’ll never work, that our paths lead to different roads and the only possible outcome is heartbreak, but my heart…

  My heart says, “Yes.”

  His mouth is on mine before I can take a breath, his strong arms lifting me off my knees and on top of him. Then he rolls us over until he’s over me, his weight held up by his elbows. Every inch of him covers every inch of me, and he’s so warm. So solid. So safe. There’s no pain, physical or otherwise, when his hands drift up my side, along my breast, until he’s palming my neck. Careful of my burns, he places his mouth on my collarbone, licking, tasting, and I can’t breathe, but the good type. The type that comes with excitement and joy and anticipation for what’s to come. My foot makes contact with something on his bed, and I lift my head, look at the source. And then I laugh. I shouldn’t, but I do. It starts as a giggle and turns into an all-out grandpa wheeze laugh. Connor looks up, his eyebrows drawn. “What’s so funny?”

  “There’s a basketball in your bed,” I laugh out.

  He gets on his knees between my legs, the bulge in his boxers prominent. I try not to stare. I fail. He says, “I told you I sleep with a basketball.”

  “I thought you were joking!”

  He shakes his head.

  My laughter simmers down enough to say, “Show me how you sleep with it.”

  “Right now?” he asks, and I nod. He adjusts himself, his hand going in his boxers, and I let out a groan as I watch every one of his muscles shift. Disbelief laced in his tone, he adds, “You’d rather watch me pretend to sleep with a ball than continue what we’re doing?”

  I nod again, unable to hide my grin.

  “Fine,” he says, standing. He taps my leg. “Get off the bed.”

  “Sheesh, you’re my boyfriend for all of a minute, and you think you can boss me around?”

  “Boyfriend?” he asks, smirking. “I like that. A lot. You must refer to me as that for all of eternity.”

  I push him toward the bed. “Show me how you sleep with the ball, you fucking weirdo.”

  Chuckling, he fixes the covers, then gets underneath. On his side, one leg bent, he cuddles the ball to his chest and closes his eyes. “Nigh nighs, girlfriend,” he whispers, then sucks his thumb.

  With a short laugh, I ask, “Is it normal to be jealous of a basketball?”

  He throws the ball across the room, then lifts the covers. All humor gone, he says, “I’ll let you in if you do the same for me.”

  I don’t miss the double meaning in his words, and so I bite my lip, hesitant. “I can’t stay.”

  He smiles. “I’m not asking you to.” Because he doesn’t want anything more from me than what I have to offer. He wants me. Just me. Exactly as I am.

  I get into bed with him and settle in the crook of his arm, my head against his chest. And if magic didn’t exist within Connor, then it exists all around him. Because moments ago, I was dirty, dazed and damaged, and now…

  Now I was falling asleep under a starlit sky, surrounded by tiny glimmers of hope.

  Chapter 33

  Connor

  Ava: Good morning, boyfriend. My alarm went off at 4:30 and I had to get home. I didn’t want to. I could’ve stayed in your arms forever.

  Connor: New phone. Who dis?

  Ava: Sorry. Wrong number. I meant to send that to my other boyfriend.

  Connor: I’ll beat his ass.

  Ava: Before or after you get done sucking your thumb, you giant baby.

  Connor: Listen here, you little shit.

  Ava: I miss you.

  Connor: Me too. I’ll be around earlier to take you to school. I have a lot of apologizing to do today, remember?

  Ava: Oh yeah. Sucks to be you.

  Connor: Not really. Last night I had a girl sleep in my bed for the first time ever, so that was kind of cool.

  Ava: Yeah? Was she hot?

  Connor: Eh.

  Ava: Listen here, you little shit.

  Connor: I can’t wait, Ava.

  Ava: For what?

  Connor: Everything.

  “Damn, I did a number on you,” Peter says, coming down Ava’s porch steps.

  “Yeah, you got me pretty good,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. I’m feeling a little ashamed, to say the least, and even though my anxiety had me practicing my apology speech before I got here, I’m stuck on how to start.

  He backhands my stomach, and I wince at the sudden pain. “If it makes you feel any better, you got in a few good shots, too.”

  “I wish it did, but no.” Groaning, I look at him but keep my head down. “Look, I’m sorry, man. I wish I had more to say than that, but…” I trail off.

  He lets out a heavy sigh, then motions for me to follow him. He walks down the driveway and onto the sidewalk, far enough that Ava can’t hear us from the house. Leaning against his car, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m not going to lie; I spent most of yesterday pissed. But I think it was more that you messed up my pretty face than the fact that you did it at all.”

  “So, you’re not pissed at me, specifically?” I ask.

  “No.”

  I exhale, relieved.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like that would be worse. You’re obviously important to Ava, and she’s important to me, so the last thing I want is to jeopardize that by becoming your enemy.”

  “You’re not my enemy,” he laughs out. “And even though you were dead wrong about what happened, your intentions were in the right place. And I can’t be mad at you for thinking you were protecting Ava. That’s…” He looks toward the house. “That’s kind of why we’re all here, right?”

  I nod, though my gut tells me there’s an underlying meaning to his words that has me questioning his intentions.

  “Look,” he starts, standing taller. “Ava’s had it rough, and she might come across as tough, as though she’s fine, and sure there are days when she might be, but those days, Connor, those days are rare. And if you want her in your life the way I know you do, you have to prepare yourself to care about her during all the times in between. Because you don’t get to pick and choose.”

  “I know,” I reply, my voice hoarse. “I’m aware of all of this.”

  Nodding, he asks, “She stay with you last night?”

  I return his nod.

  He smirks. “Five hundred bucks and I won’t tell Trevor.”

  “Dude, I d
on’t have five hundred.” I don’t even have five.

  He chuckles. “I’m kidding, man.”

  Ava opens the door, saying bye to Krystal and her mom over her shoulder. Then she turns to us, her eyebrows raised. Her grin warns me of what’s to come. “You guys are so cute,” she hollers. “Now kiss!”

  Peter shakes his head. “It’s good to have you back, Ava,” he says, widening his arms for her to embrace him, which she does. “I’ll be gone when you get back from school, so this is goodbye.”

  Ava pouts, looks up at him. “I’ll see you soon, though, right?”

  “I’m a phone call away if you need anything.” He kisses the top of her head, but his eyes are on me. “Anything, Ava. I mean it.”

  “What’s with you?” Ava asks, squeezing my hand that’s settled on her lap as we ride to school.

  I ask, distracted, “What do you mean?”

  “You’re being weird. Distant.” She starts to release my hand, but I hold hers tighter.

  “Sorry. It’s just…” I struggle with my phrasing, then just come out and say it. “Peter gives me the creeps.”

  She giggles. “Maybe you should go beat him up.”

  “Maybe,” I say, pushing away those thoughts. “Hey, just curious. If you had to score that fight, who do you think came out on top?”

  She doesn’t skip a beat. “Me.”

  “You?”

  She shrugs. “I got the guy.”

  I barely sit my ass down for first period when the teacher calls my name. “You’re needed in the principal’s office. Now.”

  Rhys is already in the office, along with Coach Sykes, and there’s a sinking in my gut because I know where this is going.

  Principal Brown says, “Due to your lack of class attendance yesterday, I’m suspending you both for tomorrow’s game.”

  Coach swears under his breath, throws his hat across the room. “Dagnammit, gentlemen!”

  “Ooh, he maaaad,” Rhys sings, and I can’t stifle my chuckle in time.

  “You think this is a joke, Ledger?” Coach says, getting in my face.

  I flatten my features. “No, sir.”

  “It’s probably for the best,” Coach retorts. “We don’t need a face like yours representing the team.”

  I flinch and turn to Rhys. “How bad do I look?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing a little trip to Sephora can’t fix.”

  “I’m glad you gentlemen are finding this amusing,” says Brown. “But I’ll have you know that a scout from Duke is attending the next game, and while he’ll be looking for boys to hand acceptance letters to, you two will be riding the bench.”

  When you think college ball, you think Duke. For so long, the idea of going to Duke had been exactly that: an idea. A pipe dream, really. But now… now I was here and fuck.

  Rhys doesn’t care as much as I do. Sure, he’s the team captain, but college ball is as far as he wants to go with it. Plus, he has the finances to get into most places. And yeah, I’m sure more opportunities will present themselves, but they won’t be Duke.

  I try to push all those thoughts aside as I make my way up the bleacher steps, toward a waiting Ava.

  “Is it true?” she asks the second I’m in earshot. “That you were suspended for a game and Duke is going to be there?”

  “How do you know?”

  “Rhys.”

  “Rhys has a big mouth.”

  “Connor, I’m serious,” she whines, tugging on my arm so I sit down next to her. “Maybe I can talk to Principal Brown. It’s the least I could do considering it was my fault you both—”

  I grab her legs, cutting her off, and settle them over mine. I place my hand on her thigh, just below her skirt. “You didn’t force me to skip class and act like a Neanderthal. It’s on me, and I’ll bear the consequences.”

  “But—”

  “Ava, please, let it go. I get this half hour with you, and I don’t want to waste it arguing about dumb shit. Now kiss me already.”

  “Okay,” she says, kissing me once. Her lips lift at the corners, and my eyes drift shut when she runs her fingers through my hair.

  “Ava?”

  “Yeah?” she murmurs, her mouth pressed to my neck.

  I pull her closer. “Promise not to tell anyone about the whole sleeping with a basketball thing?”

  She laughs but doesn’t pull away. Her lips skim along my jaw, stop just below my ear. “But then the whole flashing my boobs to the AV guys so they’d broadcast it at the next game would be for nothing.”

  I grunt when she bites down on my earlobe and bring my hand higher up her leg. “Don’t fucking joke.” Then I pull away, capture her mouth with mine, kissing her with a possessiveness I didn’t know was in me.

  She giggles into my mouth.

  “I’m not playing, Ava.”

  She just laughs harder.

  Trevor hisses the moment I open my front door. “Damn, kid. You took a beating.”

  I step onto my porch and close the door behind me. “You should see the other guy.”

  “I did, dude, and he doesn’t look anywhere near as bad as you.”

  I shrug. “What’s up?”

  “Can we maybe walk, talk about what happened?”

  “There’s not much to say. I thought Peter was the reason Ava got hurt and I wanted to kill him.”

  Trevor’s lips thin to a line, and he jerks his head toward the road. “Let’s walk anyway.” It’s not a question this time, so I reopen the door, tell Dad I’m heading out for a bit. We haven’t said much to each other since yesterday’s blow up, and I don’t plan on being the first to break. I have nothing to add to the conversation, and if he genuinely thinks he can stop me from seeing Ava, he obviously doesn’t know me as well as he thought he did.

  Trevor walks beside me with his hands in his pockets. I do the same. We’re two blocks away from our houses, and he hasn’t said a word. I’ve got shit to do, so I say, “So… how was your trip?”

  “You know it’s not the first time this has happened,” he says.

  “What?” I ask, turning to him. “That one of Ava’s friends has started a fight with your friend on your front lawn?”

  It’s supposed to be a joke, but Trevor shakes his head, his eyes on mine, not even a hint of humor in them. “That Ava’s mom has hurt her.” Oh, so we’re not here to talk about Peter and me. Noted. “It’s not the first time,” he repeats. “And it won’t be the last.”

  Oh. “Right.” I didn’t know, and the way Ava explained it, she made it sound like an accident. Or maybe I chose to hear it that way.

  I follow behind him as he walks up a steep hill. At the top is a little playground. One set of swings and a single slide.

  He sits down on a swing, the entire frame bending with his weight. I stay standing… because I’m pretty sure the entire thing would collapse with both our loads. Trevor’s legs bend, then outstretch. He’s not really going for air; he’s just kind of… swaying. He exhales a sharp breath, his eyes to the ground. It’s clear that whatever he plans on saying next is hard for him, and so I focus, give him all my attention. “What’s going on?”

  He scratches at his jaw, his brow furrowed. “Ava’s mom...”

  “Yeah?”

  “She’s been through a lot.”

  “I mean, that’s pretty obvious, right?”

  “No, Connor.” He shakes his head, his shoulders slumped. “You don’t even know the half of it.” He pauses a beat, and I let him gather his words. “She’s a POW. Do you know what that means?”

  Swallowing, I nod. “Prisoner of war, right?”

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat, looks up at me, his eyes clouded. “I don’t want to get into too much detail, but her unit was under fire and uh… they caught her. They caught her and they...” He takes a breath, and then another, and I can see the struggle in his eyes, hear the weakness in his voice. “Jesus, Connor, do you know what they do to women—”

  He can’t finish and
I don’t want him to.

  “They kept her for months, and when she finally managed to escape—that’s when the grenade…” A single tear falls from his eye, and he swipes at it quickly, sniffing back his emotions.

  My legs give out beneath me, and so I sit on the stupid swing next to him, my stomach in knots. There's an ache in my chest, a burn so intense it has me groaning. Tears prick behind my eyes, and I rub at them, sniff once to keep my rage in check.

  “I’m sorry,” I manage to say through the lump in my throat.

  Trevor shakes his head. “Ava doesn’t know any of this. My dad told me, and I made the decision not to tell her. So this is between us. Man to man. Okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Look,” he says, a sigh escaping him. “There are going to be times when you’ll hate her for the way she treats Ava, and for the way she acts and the way she feels, but you have to keep perspective, Connor. You have to. For Ava. Because you only know her now, but you didn’t know her as Ava’s mom, back when she was able to be Ava’s mom.”

  “I got it,” I assure.

  Two little kids approach the swings, toy trucks in their hands. They stop when they see us and run back to their parents. I can only imagine what we look like: two big-ass dudes on tiny swings, trying to hold back tears.

  “I’m just letting you know,” Trevor informs, “because Ava’s flitting around the house with a stupid smile on her face that she can’t seem to wipe off, and I’m assuming maybe you’re the reason for it.”

  I think about the strength Ava must possess, far greater than I had initially assumed, and I say, “I guess.”

  “So, you guys are a thing now.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good,” Trevor acknowledges, standing. “I mean, it’s good for her to have something in her life that brings her happiness.” Pride fills me, but there’s a nagging in my gut that tells me I’m not worthy. “But you can’t go beating people up every time Ava gets hurt, especially when there’s no source to that pain.”

  “Yeah,” I say, because it’s all I can say.