Heartache And Hope: Heartache Duet Book 1

by McLean, Jay

  “Ledger,” Coach says again, and I turn away, give him all my attention.

  “Yeah, Coach?”

  Rhys is next to him, wearing a shit-eating grin.

  I start to panic.

  “Rhys and I got to talking,” Coach starts. “And we were wondering if you’d be interested in co-captaining for the rest of the season?”

  My jaw drops as I look between them. “Are you serious?”

  Rhys shrugs. “It’ll look good on your college applications.”

  “Yeah.” I nod incessantly. “Hell, yeah. Thank you.”

  Coach offers me his hand, and I shake it, unable to hide my elation. The cafeteria breaks out into small giggles, and then all-out laughter. I’m still holding his hand when I turn around to see Ava at the start of the line, her tray of food held at her waist. In front of her, a punk kid has his arm pulled out of the sleeve, his long hair flipped to one side, covering half his face. He’s talking to her—no, he’s shouting noises at her, and then he’s swaying his body, using his armless sleeve to knock the food off her tray, his shouts getting louder, and I see red.

  Red.

  Hot.

  Rage.

  I release Coach’s hand and start toward him, but Coach and Rhys are both holding me back. “I’ll take care of him,” Coach says.

  “Calm down,” Rhys tells me, as if I can. As if it’s possible. And then I look at Ava. At the way her lips part, the way her eyes are wide open but filled with tears, as if she refuses to blink because if she does, her tears will fall and she doesn’t want to give this asshole the satisfaction. Slowly, she places the tray back on the rail and turns, the crowd around her parting as she walks away. People are still laughing and my heart… my heart is sinking.

  And then I blink.

  Come to.

  I chase after her, calling her name. Her steps are fast, but mine are faster. I try to grasp her arm, but she shrugs me off. Within seconds, we’re at her locker, and she’s stuffing books into her bag, refusing to speak, refusing to look at me.

  “Ava!”

  She slams her locker shut, and then she runs… a slow run, but still a run. The first sound of her cry comes just as we pass the office. I manage to get her around the waist, force her to stop and face me. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I’m sorry.” It’s all my brain can come up with.

  She squeezes her arms between us, her hands on my chest, and then she pushes. She pushes me away, swiping at her tear-stained cheeks. Her cries echo through the empty halls as she holds her bag to her chest and takes the few steps to the psych office. I follow after her, but I don’t touch her, too afraid of her reaction.

  She opens the door without knocking, and I’m right behind, stopping just inside. Miss Turner stands as soon as she sees Ava, dropping her sandwich on her desk. “Ava?” she whispers, then looks at me. “What happened?”

  Ava’s cries are louder now, uncontrollable, and there’s an ache in my chest that prevents me from answering.

  “Ava?” Miss Turner says again, moving around the desk to get to her. “Sweetheart?”

  “You said!” Ava cries, the loudness of her voice shaking me to my core. I pull out of my daze, only to realize she’s talking to me. “You said, Connor! You said you didn’t want anything more from me!”

  My heart squeezes, flatlines. A lump forms in my throat. “I didn’t…” I look between Ava and Miss Turner. “I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you didn’t know!” she screams. “They don’t do it in front of you or Rhys, but they do it. And they do it to me. And to her!” She takes a breath. “You said…” she repeats, quieter this time. She leans against the wall and then slides down until her ass hits the floor. “You pressured me to be there, to face that… You said you just wanted me, but you lied!” She lifts her knees to her chest, her face going between them, arms covering her head, shielding her from… from me. “You lied, Connor.”

  She’s rocking now, back and forth, and I haven’t taken a breath. Haven’t felt a single beat in the place I keep just for her. “Ava, I don’t—” I choke on my words. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Her cries are silent, the sound replaced by hiccups, and she won’t look up, won’t stop rocking. And then her breaths get louder, faster, escalating to a point harsh enough that Miss Turner curses, grabs a paper bag from her desk drawer. She drops to her knees in front of Ava and strokes her hair, imploring her to look up.

  Tears fill my eyes while the knot in my stomach grows and grows and grows some more. Ava takes the bag from Miss Turner and breathes into it, her breaths slowing, but her cries still steady. Her shoulders shake with every one of her hiccups, and all I can do is stand.

  Watch.

  Wait.

  Worry.

  The bell rings, and Miss Turner looks up at me. “Go to class, Connor.”

  I widen my stance, my arms at my sides. “I’m not leaving her.”

  Ava’s single whimper shatters every living cell inside of me.

  Miss Turner’s voice hardens. “That wasn’t a suggestion, Mr. Ledger. Get to class. Now!”

  * * *

  I don’t know how I make it through the rest of the afternoon, but as soon as the bell rings, I go searching for Ava. First her locker, then my car, then Miss Turner’s office. She’s nowhere to be found, and so I call her. Again and again and each time there’s no answer. I try messaging her:

  Connor: Where are you?

  And then Rhys:

  Connor: Do you know where she is?

  And then I go to send one to Trevor, but I realize I don’t even have his number. Hands pulling at my hair, I look up at the sky for answers—answers that aren’t there. I check the basketball court, the locker rooms, and then Miss Turner’s office again. It’s locked.

  I knock. “Ava?”

  There’s no response, so I go to the office and ask where Miss Turner is. Apparently, she’s clocked out for the day. I give up on school and am almost home, my phone continually dialing Ava’s number as I drive. And then a text comes through:

  Rhys: She’s here.

  I pull over.

  Connor: With you?

  Rhys: Yeah.

  Jealousy burns a hole in my chest.

  Connor: At your house?

  Rhys: No, but yeah. Just drive to my house. You’ll see us.

  Rhys rushes to my open window the second he sees my car. I spot Ava sitting on the sidewalk, her legs crossed, staring up at her old house. “She won’t talk,” Rhys says, his voice low as he pulls on the car door to get me out faster. “I tried, man, but… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

  “All right,” I tell him, calm. As if I have all the answers. I’m as lost as he is, if not worse, because I should know what to say. Or do. But I don’t. And maybe it’s worse that I’m here, because maybe I’m the one who caused all of this, but I’m not willing to walk away like I did before. “Just go home; I’ll take care of her.”

  He leaves without another word, and I gather what little strength I have left and slowly go to her. Her cheeks are wet, but there are no tears in her eyes. At least not yet. “Ava?” I whisper, and she blinks, looks down at her hands. “Can I sit with you?”

  She nods slowly but refuses to meet my gaze.

  My heart races as I sit behind her, my legs on either side. I wait a moment, pray she doesn’t push me away. When enough time passes, I scoot forward until my chest is pressed to her back and wrap my arms around her waist. A single sob escapes her, and she drops her face in her hands. “What’s this for?” she whispers.

  “I don’t know,” I say, remembering the first time she’d been there for me. “It just looked like you needed it.”

  Another whimper, and I’m moving to the side so I can see her. I reach up, hesitant, and cup her jaw. I wait for her response, because if she’s done with me, with us—if I fucked up beyond forgiveness, I’ll hate myself, but I’ll have no choice but to wear it.

  Right now, the most important thing is her… and I ne
ed to make sure she’s okay.

  Her eyes finally lift to mine, holding more pain than I know what to do with. And then her head tilts, her cheek pressing to my palm. She reaches up, holds my wrist in both her hands to keep me there.

  Air fills my lungs, and I exhale, relieved.

  I finger the strands of loose hair away from her eyes and bring her face closer to mine. “I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have asked you to—”

  My hands move with her head shake. “No, I’m sorry, Connor.” She releases a staggered breath. “I didn’t mean to say all those things to you. I needed someone to blame, and you were there. I’m so sorry. And I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

  “Why? Because of what that asshole—”

  “No, because of the way I was.” She cries harder, her tears falling fast and free. I swipe them away with my thumbs, kiss them off her lips. “Connor, I never wanted you to see me like that, to see me break and fall apart and… God, why are you here? Why do you still care about me?”

  “Ava,” I breathe out. “You had every right to feel the way you did... Jesus, I had no idea it was like that for you at school, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for asking you to do something I knew you weren’t comfortable doing. I’m sorry that shit happens to you and to your mom. I’m sorry it happens period. But you have to believe me; nothing you said or did today changes the way I feel about you.”

  She grips my forearms, a single sob falling from her lips.

  “Babe, look at me.”

  Tear-soaked eyes lock on mine.

  I kiss her once. “Promise you believe me.”

  She shakes her head. “You can’t possibly tell me that you still look at me the same.”

  My response is there, on the tip of my tongue, but it’s not enough. And even though I want to tell her how I truly feel, that I’ve fallen so hard and so fast and so deep… that my every thought, every action is consumed by her, this isn’t the right time or place, and so I take her hand in mine. “Let’s get you home. Your mom will be worried.”

  * * *

  I get ready for the game, but my heart’s not in it like it’s always been. There are too many thoughts flying through my mind, and every single one of them begins and ends with Ava. I peek out the living room window through the gaps of the blinds and wait.

  “What are you doing?” Dad asks, slipping on his shoes.

  “Waiting for Ava.”

  “Is she coming to the game?” he asks, a hopeful lilt in his tone.

  I shake my head. “No, but she always…” I trail off when I see her on the sidewalk, her steps slow, a single balloon on a string flopping down by her legs. “I’m going to need five minutes,” I tell Dad, now waiting by the door.

  I wait a few seconds, my ear to the door, listening for the sound of her footsteps on our rickety porch. I count to three, then open the door, and sweep her into my arms from behind. She squeals, and a tiny bubble of laughter comes next, eliminating all prior worries about how she’d be feeling.

  “Jeez, Connor, give the girl some room to breathe,” Dad jokes.

  I close the door between us while I allow Ava to turn into me, her hands pressed to my chest. “Hi,” I say.

  She bites down on her bottom lip. “Hi, boyfriend.”

  I exhale, her words giving me the courage to say the words I’d been planning all night. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to listen to me, okay?”

  She nods, eyes on mine.

  I take one more deep breath before saying, “You told me before that it wasn’t possible for me to look at you the same. And you’re right. I don’t. And I can’t.”

  Her gaze drops.

  “Because when I look at you now, I see these curls,” I say, tugging on a loose strand, “and I picture you when you were little, and I imagine your mom getting frustrated with you because you won’t sit still so she can brush it. I bet you were stubborn, even back then.”

  She exhales a staggered breath, her gaze lifting to mine again.

  “And your hands…” I link my fingers with hers. “I used to look at them and just want to hold them, but now… now I see them, I touch them, and I realize how much weight these small hands can hold.” I grasp her face, swipe my thumb along her lips. “And these lips… I mean, yeah, sometimes I used to kiss them just to shut you up, but now… now I’ll kiss them and wonder what it’ll be like to kiss them ten, twenty years from now… And your eyes, I used to look at them, and they’d remind me of the hardwood of the courts, but now… now I look at them, and I see your strength and your courage and your fight to keep them clear. To keep them dry.” Liquid hope pools in her eyes, her chest rising with her intake of breath. And when she blinks, I catch the tears with my thumbs and kiss each of her cheeks. “But you never have to hide who you are with me. Because I’m here. And I’ll wear your pain as if it were mine. I promise.”

  “Connor,” she whispers. Her entire body envelopes mine, her arms tight around my waist, ear pressed to my chest. Listening to the magic she creates within me.

  “But, Ava,” I start. “I think what’s changed the most is the way I see your heart. I used to just feel lucky that you’ve given me a piece of it. But now… now I know what that heart is capable of. I know the strength and the perseverance and love it carries because I see it in the way you care about your family, the way you protect them. And I’m not just lucky, Ava. I’m…” I pause, take a breath. “I moved here with one thing on my mind. Work hard enough to get noticed so I move one step closer toward the end game. But… but maybe fate had other plans for me. Bigger ones. Because you’re here, with me, and you noticed me, Ava, so maybe… maybe the end game was never about basketball. Maybe my end game is you.”

  Chapter 38

  Ava

  Ava: Good game, #3.

  Connor: Thanks, #1 goat.

  Ava: #1 goat?

  Connor: #1 Girlfriend of All Time.

  Ava: I… *rolls eyes* Dammit, that made me all gooey inside.

  Connor: he shoots, he scooooores.

  Ava: Hey… I’ve been wondering. Why #3?

  Connor: I don’t know. It was the first number given to me. I’ve just kept it ever since.

  Ava: Did you know that in every story, act three is the most important chapter?

  Connor: How so?

  Ava: Well, it delivers the story’s lowest point (me today) and then how the characters cope with that (you today) and then the climax and resolutions.

  Ava: I think maybe you’re my resolution, Connor.

  Ava: So #3 suits you.

  Connor: *Unzips*

  Ava: what??

  Connor: Sorry, I read climax and then… what? Let me go back and read the rest.

  Ava: OMG! I hate you.

  Connor: Wait. That was actually really sweet. Thank you.

  Ava: No, I take it back.

  Connor: How far back?

  Ava: What?

  Connor: Are we still ending on the climax part because if so… *unzips*

  Ava: Goodnight, boyfriend.

  Connor: Goodnight, goat.

  Chapter 39

  Ava

  The kid who messed with me in the cafeteria got a two-day suspension. The first day of his return, he had a little “accident” during gym class and decided to take the rest of the week off. Funny what a handful of laxatives, an underpaid cafeteria worker and two basketball co-captains can achieve. At first, I was mad that Connor and Rhys stooped to that level, but then… fuck that guy.

  That was a few weeks ago, and since then, Connor hasn’t asked me to do anything besides let him kiss me goodnight every night, to which I comply. And, if anything, what that kid did to cause my little breakdown just brought Connor and me closer together. Made us stronger. So... thanks, shit-stained-ball-sack kid!

  * * *

  Connor looks up from his phone when he hears my front door open. I should smile or wave or do something, but I’m too busy arguing with Trevor to do anything else.

  “You’re doing it, Ava,�
�� Trevor says, his voice firm, as he opens his truck door. “It’s not an option.”

  I shake my head, my jaw tense, nostrils flaring. “Fine!”

  “Fine!”

  I stomp my foot. “I said fine!”

  “Fine!”

  I grunt, “Go to work!”

  Trevor scoffs. “Go to school!”

  “I am!”

  “Good!” he shouts, but there’s no malice left in his tone. Instead, he’s holding back a smile.

  My defenses crack, just a tad, because we’re arguing over something so important to him because he thinks it should be important to me. This morning, he handed me a piece of paper with a dollar amount on it, and when I asked him what it was, he told me it was my budget for college applications. I reminded him that it was useless, and he reminded me that I already promised him I’d do it… hence the pointless argument that in the end, I know I’ll lose. Because just like everything else Trevor does, he only does it for me. “I love you, you idiot.”

  Trevor laughs and says, before closing his door, “I love you, too, you brat.”

  Connor’s wide-eyed by the time I get to him. “Man, if that’s what having a sibling is like… I’m kind of glad I’m an only child.”

  I mumble, my brow furrowed, “Good morning, boyfriend.”

  And he responds, “Hmm. Neither your face nor your voice leads me to believe there’s anything good about this morning.”

  I kiss him quickly and make my way to the passenger’s side of his car, where I get in, slam the door, and pout, my arms crossed, nose in the air.

  Connor gets in after me. “You know, if you weren’t so damn cute, I’d agree with Trevor. You are a brat.”