Heartache and Hope: Heartache Duet Book One

by Jay McLean

  I keep my eyes closed, hiding the fear in my heart.

  What if I do all this?

  Risk it all.

  And still fail?

  What happens to Ava?

  To her mom?

  What happens to us?

  Chapter 42

  Ava

  “We need to do something,” Trevor whispers.

  I look down at the floor. “I know.”

  “So… what are we going to do?”

  Lifting my gaze, I look at my mother sitting on the couch in the same clothes she’s been in for over a week. She’s been refusing to shower, and no amount of convincing seems to work. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s getting bad, Ava.”

  “The smell?”

  He shakes his head. “That, too, but just… her. She’s getting worse,” he says, his voice hushed as we stand in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. On the kitchen table behind me, another dinner is left untouched.

  “It’s fine,” I argue, trying to convince myself more than anyone else. “She’ll be okay; it’s just… a phase.”

  My phone dings with a text.

  Connor: That game just about killed me. About to hop in an ice bath if you want to join me?

  “Shit,” I hiss.

  “What?” Trevor asks.

  “I forgot Connor’s game.” And the balloon. “Dammit.”

  “He’ll understand,” Trevor assures. “You’ve been dealing with a lot.”

  I read over his text again, trying to find a way to respond. And then: “Hey, Mama? What if I run you a bath instead of a shower?”

  Her expression doesn’t change, neither does the direction of her stare. “A bath sounds nice.”

  “Thank God,” Trevor breathes out.

  I rush to the bathroom and start running the water.

  Ava: As bad as that sounds, I wish I could, just to be near you. I’m sorry there was no balloon. Give me five, I’ll check the school website and get a rundown of the game.

  He doesn’t respond, probably in the bath, and so I focus on getting the water to the perfect temperature, filling it with as many scented bath products as I can find. I call her when it’s ready, and she comes willingly, stripping out of her clothes without care. “Will you stay with me?” she murmurs.

  “Of course, Mama.”

  I close the door behind us and help her get in. She sits with the water to her neck, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She doesn't speak, our breaths the only sound in the small room. I push away all other thoughts—thoughts that seem to invade my mind and ruin me from the inside out.

  “Do you…” I start, careful. “Do you want me to wash you?”

  Nodding, she sits up and bends over, allowing me to have access. I pour body wash on a loofa and start at her back, ignoring the ailing paleness of her skin, the way her spine sticks out far more than it should. I hear her sniff but stay silent. And then her shoulders… her shoulders start to shake. A single whimper fills the cold, dead air, and I reach up to her shoulder, move her hair to the side. “It’s okay, Mama,” I say through the knot in my throat. “Sometimes we all need a little help.”

  She reaches up with her good arm, takes my hand in hers. “Thank you,” she whispers, and it’s all I need. All I want. For her to know that I’m here for her. Always.

  She doesn’t say anything more, and neither do I. We finish in the bath, and I help her into fresh clothes and into her bed, pull the covers over her chest. She stares up at the ceiling, and I get on my knees beside her bed, put my hands on her upper arm. “Are you not tired?” I whisper.

  Her head lolls to the side, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m scared,” she admits.

  I sit taller. “Of what?”

  She lets out a sob. “To close my eyes.”

  “Oh, Mama.” I settle my head on her chest, my eyes drifting shut when she holds me to her.

  “Stay with me, Ava? Just until I fall asleep?”

  I wipe my tears on her covers, then suck in a breath, attempt to keep my broken heart bound. “Of course.” I get into her bed and try to be her courage while hiding my weakness. She holds me close, using just a portion of the strength of the woman she used to be. The mother she used to be.

  I lie awake, listening to her breaths settle until I know she’s asleep. Then I get out, careful and quiet. I wipe the wetness off my cheeks before opening the door and facing Trevor.

  “Is she down?”

  I offer the most genuine smile I can come up with. “Yeah, she’s sleeping like a baby.”

  Trevor nods, goes back to watching whatever game is playing. I go to the bathroom and retrieve my phone.

  Connor: I figured something was up when there was no balloon. I hope everything’s okay?

  Connor: Just got out of the tub. Is everything okay there?

  Connor: Can you come out in five? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.

  I look at the time stamp. It was sent over a half hour ago.

  Ava: Sorry, I just got the message.

  Ava: I can maybe come out now if you’re still up for it.

  Connor: Slipping on my shoes.

  I tell Trevor I’ll just be five minutes, and practically run outside, my heart racing, longing for the only person in the entire world who’s capable of letting me forget, even if it’s just for a minute.

  I wait for him on the sidewalk, smiling when I see his door open. I’m in his arms a moment later, and it should be impossible—that one person can hold so much power in just their embrace—but I physically feel the tension inside me dissolve until it’s just him and me and now. “I miss you, Ava,” he sighs out.

  “I know. Me, too.”

  He pulls away but keeps his arms around my waist, holding me close. Looking down at me, his eyes shift, as if taking me in for the first time. “I promise, once the season’s over we’ll go back to normal.”

  Normal. As in one class every other day and lunch breaks and the occasional ride together to and from school. As opposed to what it’s been like the past two weeks… when I get to see him in class but not really talk to him, and sometimes he’ll show up at lunch, sometimes he doesn’t. There are no more rides to and from school. The only reason he gives me is that it’s basketball related, but he doesn’t give me much else. Any other girl would become suspicious about who he’s with and what he’s doing. “I understand,” I tell him. Besides, he’s never once questioned my inconsistencies, and apart from that one time for the pep rally, he’s never asked for more of my time than I could give him.

  He leans against the chain-link fence of my front yard and pulls me between his legs. I link my fingers behind his neck and just look at him, really truly look at him. He’s in dark jeans and a plain gray hoodie, and his hair’s wet, or… I reach up… there’s product in his hair. I sniff him. “Are you wearing cologne?”

  He nods. “You like it?”

  “Did you wear it for me?” I ask, half joking.

  “Actually…” he starts, grimacing. “One of the guys from the team is having a party tonight, and I said I’d go.”

  Oh.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Connor, you don’t need my permission to go out.”

  “I know.” His shoulders lift with his shrug. “I just wanted to check anyway.”

  Well, not really. He’s already dressed and ready to go, so he’s beyond checking. He’s just… informing.

  “Rhys is coming to get me. He should be here any second.”

  I get on my toes until my mouth is level with his. “So we only have seconds to get in days’ worth of making out?”

  His mouth covers mine without a response, his head tilting, getting better access. He pulls me closer again until there’s nothing between us. I squeal when his hand covers my ass, squeezing, and then laugh into his mouth. “A little handsy, no?”

  Chuckling, he kisses me once more. “I still have a ton of adrenaline. I had a good game.”

  “You did?” I ask, ann
oyed at myself for not checking first. I drop down to the heels of my feet. “Shit, Connor, I haven’t even had time to check. I’m the worst girlfriend ever.”

  “You are,” he deadpans. But there’s a gleam in his eye, a slight smile playing on his lips. “You better make it up to me.”

  “How?” I ask with a flirtatious lilt.

  He’s quiet a breath, his eyes on mine, lips parted. “I was talking about that crazy lasagna you make, but whatever you’re thinking right now, I choose that.”

  I tug down on his hoody until his ear is to my lips and whisper, “I want to know what you feel like in my mouth.”

  Instantly, he has both hands on my butt, lifting, and my legs go around him, holding on to him as he starts carrying me to his house. “Fuck this party,” he hisses.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Your dad’s home, and my mom—”

  “Get a fucking room,” Rhys shouts, pulling up to the curb.

  We’ve barely made it into Connor’s yard when he releases me back on my feet. I push him toward Rhys’s truck. “Go. Have fun.”

  He kisses me quickly. “Love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Rhys says, “I love you both; now hurry the fuck up.”

  Connor kisses me again. “Can I message you when I get home? Maybe get that goodnight kiss?”

  I nod. “Hey. No talking to girls tonight,” I joke.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says, kissing me again before opening the car door.

  “You’re so whipped,” Rhys remarks.

  “I don’t mind it.” Connor laughs. “Besides, she knows how to dispose of a dead body with little to no evidence. And I like breathing. It’s fun.”

  Mom’s stirred twice since I put her to bed, but she hasn’t fully woken, which is an improvement from the previous nights.

  It’s close to midnight, and I’m working on these stupid college applications when a text comes through.

  Connor: I is home, woman. Kiss me.

  Ava: Are you drunk? Come to my window. BE QUIET.

  I open my blinds, lift the window and rest my elbows on the frame, half out, looking for him. He appears, a silhouette lit only by the phone he’s looking at. “Connor,” I hiss.

  “One second.” His thumbs are moving, and so is he, closer and closer. When he gets to my window, he finally looks up. “God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbles at the same time my phone goes off.

  Connor: I be there soon.

  I drop the phone, reach out and pull him toward me with the ties of his hood. “How much did you have to drink?”

  He shrugs, his eyes hooded. “Just a couple beers to take the edge off. I’m not drunk.”

  I eye him sideways. “How many girls did you talk to tonight?”

  “Twelve.”

  “That’s an oddly specific number.”

  “I made it up. No girls.” He shakes his head. Then he reaches up, holds my entire head in his grasp. With his eyes on mine, he says, a seriousness taking over him, “You’re the only girl for me, Ava Elizabeth Diana.” He kisses me, soft and sweet, and then pulls away. “Can you turn your light on?”

  “Why?”

  “I always wonder what your room’s like, and every time I come here, it’s dark. I just want to see… maybe I could come in? Just for a few minutes?”

  Biting down on my lip, I hesitate before nodding. “You have to be quiet, okay? My mom’s asleep.”

  He draws a cross over his heart, and I lift my window higher so he can fit through. I step back, watch him climb in, first his arms, then his upper body, and then he’s army crawling across my floor with his legs still out the window. When he’s all the way in, his feet hit the floor with a thud. “Connor!” I whisper-yell, my finger to my lips as I listen for any movement. I’m not sure what would be worse, Mom waking or Trevor knowing there’s a boy in my room.

  “Sorry.” He grimaces. “That was harder than it looked.”

  I switch on the light on my nightstand and watch him look around my room. There’s nothing in here but my bed, desk, and bookshelf. “It’s… different from what I imagined.”

  “What did you imagine?” I ask, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  He sits down next to me, his giant frame almost comical on such a small bed. “I don’t really know.”

  “It was supposed to be temporary,” I admit, looking down at my feet, shame washing through me. “We weren’t supposed to be here this long. I guess part of me was hoping for a miracle. Maybe William would come back and save us or—”

  “Ava,” he interrupts, nudging my side. “You forget we live next door. My dad works full-time and only has me to worry about, and that’s all he can afford. There’s nothing wrong with where we live, and that’s not what I was getting at. I just meant that… I don’t know. I thought there’d be pictures on the walls or something.”

  Not in here, I don’t say. “Of what? All my imaginary friends?”

  He sighs, rubs his eye with the heel of his palm. “Rhys is your friend.”

  “Rhys feels sorry for me.”

  “Karen misses you.”

  I can’t help the flash of jealousy that knots my stomach. “You talk to Karen?”

  “I mean, sometimes. I talked to her tonight.”

  My voice cracks when I ask, “About me?”

  He settles his hand on my leg, and I can’t help but think that his guilt put it there. “She asked about you. About us. And I told her how much I love you.”

  His answer is perfect. Too perfect. My old insecurities come back to me, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Ava,” he says through a sigh. “What’s wrong?”

  I don’t look up when I answer, “Nothing.”

  He sighs again, this one heavier. “Are you mad that I went out tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Because I needed it, Ava. I need to get the guys on my side so I can… I’ve just been under a lot of stress, and I just wanted a night out, but the whole time I was there, all I wanted was to be with you, and now I’m here and...”

  And I couldn’t even be there for him if I wanted to. I’m not able to carry his stress like he carries my pain. I turn to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there.”

  “I don’t expect you to be, Ava.” Even though he said it so matter-of-fact, so innocently… the truth behind those few words shatters any dignity I have left. He adds, “I told you I don’t want anything more from you than you, and I meant it.”

  But it’s not enough anymore.

  And maybe I’m not enough.

  He shifts, getting more comfortable on my bed. His back to the wall, he pats his lap. “Come here.”

  I ignore the blinding ache in my chest and move to him, straddling his lap.

  His hands settle on my thighs while mine go to his shoulders. “I came here for my goodnight kiss, remember?”

  Nodding, I close my eyes, hide my doubt, and press my lips to his. His mouth opens, wanting more, and so I give him what he wants. It doesn’t take long for his hands to wander, first to my butt, then my breasts, under my top. His kisses move down, down, down, while his hands move up, up, up taking my tank with him. I do the same with him, our bare chests pressed together as he holds me to him, shifts us until I’m underneath him and he’s between my legs. He starts to unbutton his jeans and then unzip his fly, and if this is what he came here for… if this is what he wants from me… I’ll give it to him. It’s the least he deserves, the least I can do. I roll us until he’s on his back and make fast work of removing his shoes, then his jeans. I kiss his stomach and move lower to the smattering of hair just above his boxer shorts. His hands find the back of my head, fingers curled, and I pull down on the waistband and don’t waste any time. I take him in my mouth, taste him, feel his thighs tense beneath my touch. He whispers my name, and I should feel something… aroused or dominant or desired, but I don’t.

  I feel like a whore.

  The sudden sound of glass breaking has us pulling apart. I rush for m
y top at the same time he quickly covers himself. “Stay here,” I tell him, throwing my top back on. I run out of the room, switching on lights, my heart thumping against my chest.

  Not again.

  Not again.

  Not again.

  I check the living room and kitchen, but they’re empty. Trevor’s out of his room, and his panic matches mine. I open Mom’s door. She’s on the floor, shards of glass around her. “Mama!” I scream, and she looks up, points to her foot.

  Blood.

  “What happened?” I rush out, moving in on her.

  “I knocked over the glass,” she deadpans. “Stepped on it.” There’s no life in her words or her eyes.

  I glare at Trevor and shout, “Why the hell is there glass in her room?!”

  He rears back. “I must’ve left it there when I gave her the meds earlier. Shit, Ava, I don’t know.”

  “You know she can’t be around this!” I say, dropping to my knees, ignoring the blood pooling around her. There’s so much. Too much. Memories flood my brain and I try to push them away, but they’re too strong. Too forceful. “How could you do that!” I scream at him.

  “It was an accident!” he shouts back.

  “Stop yelling!” Mom says, covering her ears. She starts to rock back and forth, and I try to settle my breathing, try to calm myself down. But I can’t.

  “You can’t have accidents with her, Trevor! You know you can’t!” Tears fall, fast and free, and I open her drawer, pull out whatever I can find to stop the bleeding. I press it to her foot, and she screams, kicks my hands off of her.

  “Get away!” she yells, a terror in her voice that has my pulse escalating. I glance at Trevor, and he feels it, too.

  “I need to check your foot. There might be glass!”

  She kicks my chest and screams, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” And then she looks up, her eyes wide and focused on my doorway. “Who are you?” she breathes out, fear and horror etched on her face.

  Connor’s in the doorway, his eyes huge. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.