by McLean, Jay
My eyes widen when I look up at him. “You want my name there, too?”
He nods once, motions for me to do it. “You’re my reason, Ava. You both are.”
* * *
“There he is!” Mom shouts, getting to her feet as the stream of the game starts, and Connor appears on the TV. “There’s my boy!”
“Um, technically, that’s my boy, Mama.”
“Oh, hush. Don’t be greedy now!”
Within minutes of the game, we can see Connor struggling without Rhys and Mitch on the court. He’s really the only one on the team worth a dime, and Philips Academy, their opponents, stick to what they’ve always done when it comes to Connor: they double-team him.
“Jesus Christ!” Mom yells at the TV. “Give the boy room to breathe!”
“Dammit,” Trevor grunts, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “He can’t fucking escape these bastards!”
“Get off him!” Mom shouts.
I stay quiet, watching the boy I love play a game he loves, or at least trying to, but he’s so deflated, so hopeless. And I can see it in the way his shoulders sag, see it in the furrow of his brow and the tenseness in his jaw. He’s frustrated, and the only people who deserve that frustration are in suits warming the bench.
Fuck Rhys and Mitch.
They ruined this for him.
The buzzer sounds for the end of the first quarter and the score’s 30-12 with Philips leading, and while most of our scoring has been done by Connor, it’s only due to the constant fouls against him.
Philips is out for blood.
And Connor is their target.
“God, he’ll be hating this,” I mumble.
“No shit,” Trevor responds.
Second quarter starts and his opponents have changed, but there are still two of them, and with fresh legs, they shut Connor out completely.
“Fuck!” Mom shouts. And I feel her frustration to the core. Ten minutes in and Coach Sykes forces Connor to sub out. The camera focuses on him as he slumps down on the bench, a towel going to his face. He keeps it there while his shoulders drop, his chest heaving. I can’t even imagine how drained he must be. How disappointed. His spirit’s crushed, and I can it see it through the screen. When he finally removes the towel, his eyes are red, raw, as if he already knows it’s over, not just for the team, but for him, too. A frown tugs at my lips, my chest aching at the sight of him.
“Where’s the game being played?” Mom asks out of nowhere.
“At Wyndham Tech.”
“How far away is that?”
“It’s about fifteen minutes from here.”
Mom stands quickly. “Well, go, Ava! He needs you.”
My breath catches. I’d give anything to be there with him. For him. But… “How am I going to go? I don’t drive. Trevor would have to take me, and you can’t be alone.”
Mom lifts her chin. “So, we’ll all go!”
“What?!” Trevor and I yell at the same time.
“Get your shit,” Mom rushes out. “Shoes. Keys. Coat. Quick, quick! Our boy needs us!”
We don’t ask if she’s sure she wants to go, to be seen in public by a lot of people, because she’s the one herding us out the door within minutes. “You better drive fast, boy, or I swear…” Mom mumbles, clicking in her seatbelt as soon as we’re in Trevor’s truck.
To my surprise, Trevor floors it all the way to the complex. Thanks to a minor hiccup buying tickets to actually get into the game, we’re standing courtside (thanks to people’s fear of my mom’s appearance when she pushes them out of the way) just as the teams are coming back from the half-time break. The moment I see him, my heart begins to race. I cup my hands around my mouth, yell, “Boo!” But the crowd is too damn loud, and he’s too focused, and so I suck in a breath, prepare my lungs. “BOO, LEDGER! BOOOO!”
“Why are you jeering him?” Trevor asks.
“Just trust me,” I tell him. “BOO, LEDGER!”
Then Mom joins in, “BOO! BOOOOO!”
And I’ve never loved my brother more than when he mumbles, “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” He picks me up effortlessly, and I grasp on to his head as lifts me higher, sitting me on his shoulders. “BOO, LEDGER!” He yells so loud the crowd around us quiets.
“Boo!” Mom screams, and Oscar, Connor’s teammate, finally turns around to see what all the crazy taunting is about. When he finds me, a flash of a smile curves his lips, and he backhands Connor’s arm, motions his head toward me. Connor looks up, Up, UP, his eyes huge when he sees us. I see him mouth, “one second” to his coach, and then he jogs toward us while Trevor puts me back on my feet.
Connor’s shocked, clearly, his eyes shifting between Mom and me over and over. He settles on me first. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed—”
It’s all I can get out before I’m in his arms, his hand gripping the back of my head. He holds me to his chest, where magic beats heavily against my cheek. “God, I’m so glad you’re here, babe. I’m getting destroyed out there.”
“I know,” I mumble, pulling back to look at him, but he’s already focused on my mom.
“You came out for me?” he asks gently.
“Of course, we love you, Connor,” she replies, and my heart swells. “But don’t you give up,” she orders, her tone strict. “Don’t you dare give up!”
Connor laughs once. “No, ma’am.” And then his coach calls him back to join the rest of his team.
“I love you,” I tell him, kissing him quickly. I tug on his jersey, the one matching mine and my mother’s. “You got this!”
We lose.
We more than lose.
We get annihilated.
As soon as the final buzzer sounds, Connor shakes hands with the team, and then…
Then he falls to one knee, his outstretched arm keeping him upright while his entire body shakes with exhaustion. He’s wiped. Completely drained. I’ve never seen him work so hard, push so fiercely. When he looks up, his tired eyes take in the celebrations of players and fans from Philips, no doubt wishing he was part of it. He wanted state. He told me so many times how much he needed state. And now it was gone, completely out of his grasp. “God, I hate this for him,” I mumble.
Mom takes my hand. “He’s a strong boy. He’ll get through this.”
“Ava!” Corey, Connor’s dad, calls out, marching down the stands. He looks how I feel.
I raise a hand in a wave, watching the stands clear behind him, and wait for him to stop in front of me before saying, “He gave it everything.”
“And more,” Corey agrees. He shakes hands with Trevor and introduces himself to my mom, even though he’s already met her—though she won’t remember the circumstances.
“Your son put up a fight,” Mom tells him.
“He’s a warrior.”
We all turn to look at Connor, the only Wildcat left on the court. He’s sitting on the hardwood now, his legs outstretched, knees raised, head between his shoulders. Coach Sykes approaches him, squeezes his shoulder once, and whatever he says has Connor nodding.
Coach leaves him there, and Corey grasps my elbow. “Come with me,” he tells me, and so I follow him onto the court, hesitant as I stand in front of Connor. Without looking up, he lifts his hand, and I take it in mine. He tugs, pulling me down to his level. On my knees, I let him hold me to him, ignoring the tightness of his embrace or the wetness soaking through my jersey when he wipes his eyes on my shoulder. His entire body shakes, not from his crying, but from the adrenaline still pumping through him. He presses his lips to my temple, his heavy breaths coating my cheek.
“I’m so sorry, babe. I know how much this meant to you.”
He swallows, loudly, before pulling back, his eyes red when they lock on mine. He nods, and I know he can hear me, understand me, but it’s not enough to take away his pain. He’s so discouraged, so disappointed. So goddamn heartbroken.
Mom stands beside him, her scars highlighted by the gym lights. “Stand up, Conn
or!”
My eyes snap to her. “Mama, not right now!”
“Stand. Up!”
“Mama!”
“It’s okay,” Connor murmurs, releasing me to get to his feet. Standing in front of her, he’s only half the man she’s grown to love. He seems to have shrunk in the time it’s taken to lose a single game.
She orders, as if he’s one of the privates in her unit, “Goddammit, number three! Chin up!”
Connor inhales deeply, then lifts his chin, looks down at her.
“Shoulders out!”
His spine straightens, shoulders out, just like she commanded.
Mom huffs out a breath. “Now you listen to me, young man! You walk with your head high! You carried that team! All on your own. Not just tonight, but for the entire goddamn season! You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing! Do you hear me?”
Connor’s lashes fall, and he’s slow to open his eyes again. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles.
“I can’t hear you!”
Connor’s chest rises as he stands taller again. He clears his throat before answering, his voice stronger, “Yes, ma’am!”
Mom offers him a smile. “Good boy. Now give me a hug.”
With a crooked grin, he tells her, “I’m all sweaty.”
Rolling her eyes, she responds, “I had my arm blown off in Afghanistan, Connor. I can deal with a little sweat.”
Connor laughs now, embracing her. “Just half your arm, Miss D. Stop trying to milk it.” Mom laughs, too, and she squeezes him tighter. After releasing her, he turns to me. “I should hit the showers.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “You call me whenever you get home, okay? But take your time. I’m sure you want to let loose a little.”
“Where are you going?” Mom asks me.
“Home.”
“No, you’re not. You stand by your man.”
“But, Mama—”
She raises a hand, stopping me. “I will go home. I will take my happy, sleepy pills, and I will go right to bed.” She looks at Trevor. “Right, Trevor?”
Trevor nods, facing me. “I got it, Ava. You should stay with Connor.”
I look up at Connor. “Do you want me to?”
He clucks his tongue. “Second dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I’ll see you at home,” Connor’s dad says, his hand out for a shake. Connor slaps it away and embraces him just like he did my mother. Corey’s fingers curl in the back of Connor’s jersey. “I’m proud of you, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
I run a hand along his arm. “I’ll wait for you out in the lot.”
“Okay.” Then he eyes the members of both our families, before moving in, kissing me quickly. “Love you. Thanks for coming.”
“Thank my mom,” I say, just as Connor’s main opponent walks past us.
He leers at my chest. “Damn, ho. You ever want to drop that has-been and get with a winner, I’m right here.”
Five voices all at once:
“Hey, now,” Corey says, the tamest of them all.
I snap, “I’d rather eat shit and die!” at the same time Trevor warns, “Say that shit about my sister again and see what happens,” and Connor who grunts, “Watch your fucking mouth.”
But Mom—she pulls out the big guns: “Eat a bag of dicks, you cocksucking little twerp!”
* * *
We all walk out to the parking lot, saying bye to Corey first, and then to Trevor’s truck. I make sure Trevor knows exactly what meds Mom takes in what order and what time, and he assures me he’s got it handled and reminds me that I’m only a phone call away if he needs me, which Mom promises he won’t. And while a part of me is fearful that I won’t be around if anything does happen, a more significant part of me knows that I need to stay. That I need to be here for Connor.
I watch them leave, all the way to the point of their taillights disappearing in the distance. When I feel safe enough to move, I start making my way to the exit of the locker rooms where Philips’ fans are still on a high and the parents and friends of our team stand around, waiting to show their support. Rhys and Mitch are standing by Rhys’s car, and I almost go up to them—just so I can punch them in their lopsided testicles.
I don’t.
But I really fucking want to.
I stay in the shadows, not wanting to be seen until Connor gets out.
“Hey,” a woman says, stopping next to me.
I turn to her, smile awkwardly. “Hi?”
“You’re friends with Connor Ledger, right?” She’s middle-aged, blonde hair, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses that cover half her face—which makes no sense considering the only sun around here went down hours ago.
My head tilts to the side when I answer, “Yeah, I’m his girlfriend. Can I help you?”
She flashes a smile, but it’s weak. “He played really well tonight.”
Nodding, I ask, “Are you a reporter, or… a scout, maybe?” Hope builds a home in my heart. “NBA? That would be insane. It would sure cheer him up.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she says through a croaky giggle. “I’m just a fan.”
“Right.” I look away, focus on the exit, and add, “He has a lot of those.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he does.” Her voice becomes louder, clearer, as if to say hear me, when she adds, “Have you guys been dating long?”
“Kind of. On and off since the start of the school year…” I turn to her again, my brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”
“Oh, it’s not important,” she rushes out, taking a single step back. “But, umm… can you give him this?” She pulls out a small white box from her bag. “It’s just a little present.”
I take her offering, still unsure what her angle is. “From a fan?” I ask, because if this is her used underwear or something… gross. I suppose I should get used to this, though, especially since this is what his future’s going to be like.
The woman nods, says, “Yeah. A fan. It was nice meeting you….?”
“Ava.”
“Ava.” She smiles, genuine. “That’s a pretty name.”
Chapter 23
Connor
Ava and I make a detour to grab food before we go to Rhys’s house, so by the time we do get there, it’s already packed. She grasps on to my arm the second we enter, and she doesn’t let go as we make our way through the crowd to find the rest of the team in Rhys’s pool house. A highlight reel of our season is playing on the huge screen, and I don’t know whose idea this was, but they’re fucking stupid. The last thing I want is to be reminded of what’s no longer in my grasp. “Hey, superstar!” Karen greets, hugging Ava first, and then me. Ava still doesn’t release her hold on my hand.
“I’m not really feeling like a superstar right now,” I murmur.
Karen’s eyes narrow, shifting to Ava before settling on me. “Hey, who am I?” She lowers her voice to mimic mine. “Boohoo, I was double-teamed by the best players in the region and I couldn’t carry the entire team on my back, on my own, because two dumb shits decided it would be funny to stick a three-foot dick on a door.”
Ava lets out a giggle, stroking my arm in comfort.
I turn to her.
“She has a point,” Ava says, shrugging.
“Besides,” Karen adds, “fuck those guys, Connor. Duke doesn’t care about—”
“Shh!” I cut in.
“What?” Karen eyes me sideways. “No one knows you got into Duke?”
I shake my head. “How the fuck do you know?”
Her gaze flicks to Ava for half a second, but I catch it. I face my girlfriend. She shrugs again. “Sorry. I was excited. And what does it matter now? Your season’s over, so…”
“I guess,” I murmur.
“Hey, everyone!” Ava shouts, releasing my arm finally. All eyes move to her as she throws her hands up, peace signs in the air, and yells, “My boyfriend got into Duke, motherfuckers!”
The room erupts in an ear-deafening roar, and t
hen I’m tackled by too many guys at once. My back hits the floor, and I try to escape from under the pile of teenage boys. Ava stands above us, her arms crossed. “So hot.”
I push at as many limbs as I can see until it’s clear enough for me to crawl out from beneath them. Rhys offers me his hand, his grin from ear-to-ear. I take it, get to my feet. “Congrats, man. You deserve it!”
He’s as genuine as it gets, and I push aside the animosity I’d felt toward him because there’s nothing I can do anymore. It’s done. And Ava’s right. I got into fucking Duke. “Thanks, man.”
“Let’s drink to that instead of the loss, yeah?”
I shake my head. “I’m driving.”
He looks at Ava. “Damn, you need to get your goddamn license, A.”
“I’m working on it,” she laughs out, attaching herself to my side again.
A half hour later and not much has changed, but I can tell something’s up with Ava. She sits on my lap while we watch the footage. Or she watches, and I watch her. It’s not like the last time she was here, when she actually seemed happy to be. She hasn’t left my side, and she doesn’t engage in any conversations. I lean forward, press my mouth to the part where her neck meets her shoulder, making her squirm. She turns to me, offers a weak smile.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she tries hard to convince. “Why? Are you not having a good time?”
Honestly? No. I’d rather be somewhere with her, alone, but I know I need to be here for the team. For my friends. Even if the season is over. “I’m fine. But you seem… I don’t know… not yourself…?”
She licks her lips, her eyes on mine. Then she sighs. “I’m just worried, is all. Trevor’s not used to being alone with my mom, and I know it’s stupid considering they’re the ones who suggested this, and I want to be here for you, Connor. I do. It’s just… I can’t stop worrying.”
“So let’s go home.”
“No,” she’s quick to respond. “Like I said, I want to be here with you. I just wish I could be in two places at once.”
“Why don’t you call him?” I suggest. “Check in.”