First and Forever: Heartache Duet Book 2

by McLean, Jay

  “Yeah?”

  He nods. “I got my passion back.”

  I bite my lip, break our stare. “Is that why you didn’t declare for the draft?”

  “How do you know I didn’t?”

  Shit.

  I point to the TV. “Oh, look. Blood!”

  Connor

  “What?” Ava whispers, her eyes narrowed. “Why are you staring at me?”

  I can’t stop smiling. “No reason.”

  She goes back to watching another person get murdered, and it feels like the first time. Like the time she was in my car and she called me a good-looking jock. Back then, what I’d felt for her was nothing more than a crush. I never thought that we’d end up here, that I’d be in this deep.

  Because I’m still crazy about her.

  Hopelessly.

  Endlessly.

  Crazy in love with her.

  Her eyes are wide, unblinking, as she stares at the TV. Loose strands of curls curtain her face. I reach up, pull one aside so I can see her more clearly. I’m ogling, fascinated by every inch, every curve, every quiver of her lips when she inhales a breath. Then she turns to me, slowly, and I can tell that she’s nervous, that whatever is going through her mind right now has her hesitant. “So… this place where my mom is…”

  I swallow. “Yeah?”

  “Um, the doctors and therapists there—they’re really great.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  Nodding, her gaze drops, her voice quieter when she says, “It only took them a couple of weeks to diagnose Mom with bipolar disorder and mild schizophrenia.”

  My eyes widen, my breath catching in my throat, but I try to hide my reaction. “Well, at least they know now… it means she can take the right medication and get the right kind of—”

  Ava’s nodding cuts me off. “Yeah. They suspect that the head trauma caused a lot of it; add that to everything else she was already experiencing…” She inhales a huge breath, lets it out slowly. “It kind of explains a lot, especially with how quickly her moods could switch.”

  “Yeah,” I breathe out, thinking about all the time I’d spent with her, all the different versions of her I’d witnessed. “But she’s good now, right? Like, stable?” I don’t know if I’m using the right terminology, and I hope it doesn’t offend her or take away from her mother’s mental health in any way.

  Ava nods again, then lowers her gaze. “They also diagnosed me with PTSD...” My chest tightens at her words, a lump forming in my throat. I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it: “I just thought you should know, because… because you’re looking at me a certain way and—”

  “How am I looking at you?”

  “The way you used to,” she says, her voice strained. “And maybe you shouldn’t be doing that, because I’m not the same person I used to be, Connor. I’m not that girl you fell—”

  “You’re right,” I interrupt. “You’re not that same girl. Not even a little bit. Because you’re so much more.” I lift her chin, force her to look at me through her tear-stained eyes. “Ava, a label isn’t going to change who you are, and it’s not going to change how I feel about you or how I look at you,” I tell her, sitting taller. “But a label is going to help me understand you more… and, really, it’s not that surprising.” I shake my head. “I mean, after everything you went through and everything you saw, you witnessed…”

  “I’m working through it,” she croaks, as if trying to convince me.

  I settle my palm on her jaw, my heart racing when she presses into it. “I know you, and you’ll get there, babe. And I’m going to be right here. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. Always.”

  Her gaze lifts, locks on mine. Seconds feel like minutes. Finally, she says, “It’s getting late, and I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

  My heart sinks, just an inch, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s afraid of what’s happening between us, or what never stopped happening. “Okay.” I get to my feet, ignore the tightening in my chest as she follows me to her door. She reaches around, opening it for me, and I step out, turning to her as I do. “Thanks for dinner.”

  She offers a smile. “You’re welcome.”

  “Don’t go disappearing on me, okay?”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  I shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching out and touching her. Anywhere. As long as it’s her. “I’ll see ya.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I rear back when she practically slams the door in my face. Confused, I force myself to step away. One step. Two. A thud sounds from behind her door, and I freeze, wait. She’s talking now, and curiosity gets the better of me. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I walk back, my footsteps light, and press my ear to her door.

  “Stupid, Ava. Stupid, stupid, stupid!” The door rattles with each of her stupids. There’s shuffling, and then footsteps fading, and I almost walk away when seconds of silence pass. Then I hear her again: “Amy!” She’s almost yelling. “Yeah, he just left.”

  This is wrong. I shouldn’t be listening. But…

  “No, I didn’t lick his face, but I wanted to!”

  My grin is pathetic.

  “No, I didn’t hump his leg! Quit making fun of me!”

  I stifle my laugh.

  “God, Amy… he’s everything I remember him to be,” she says, and I press my ear closer because I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I hear her moving around the kitchen, picture her there with the phone to her ear, trashing the take-out boxes. “I told him everything I wanted to.”…“Yeah, even that.”…“His reaction was… perfect. Everything he said and did was… perfect.”…“Dammit, Amy. He’s so good. Like, everything about him just… he’s the peace to my chaos.”…“Because I got scared, obviously.”…“Of course, I didn’t want him to leave, but—” Hearing that, I find myself raising my fist, knocking twice. “Shit, I have to go.”

  I step back, act casual. All while my heart beats wild inside me.

  She opens the door, her face flustered, just like the first time. “Hi.”

  “I think I left my keys in here.”

  “Oh, okay.” She steps to the side, opening the door wider for me.

  With a smile I can’t seem to shake, I go to the kitchen first, pretend to look around. I check the stool I’d been sitting on. “Hmm. I don’t know where they could be.”

  “Maybe the couch,” she offers, making her way there. I stand behind her, my eyes glued to her ass when she bends over, reaching in between the cushions. She lifts some throw pillows, searching under there. I’m too late to avert my gaze when she spins to me. “They’re not there.” And when she realizes exactly what I’d been doing, she glares, her eyes thinned to slits. “Pervert.”

  I shrug.

  Then she eyes me up and down, still glaring. “Do not move,” she orders.

  I lock every muscle in place.

  Her hands reach up, settling on my stomach. Holding my eyes captive, she slides them lower, lower, until she brushes an inch above my—“Connor!”

  “What?”

  She reaches into my pocket, pulls out my keys. “Your keys are right—” That’s as far as she gets before I press my mouth to hers, inhaling the gasp that comes from it. I grasp her face in both my hands, pause, hold her there. With her bottom lip caught between mine, I tilt my head, run my tongue along the seam of her lips, asking, begging for permission. But she doesn’t give in to my desires. In fact, she doesn’t move at all. Doesn’t breathe. I wait another beat, hope dying in my chest, and then I pull back, my eyes closed, humiliation flooding every cell. “Sorry,” I whisper, releasing her.

  “No, you’re not,” she murmurs, and I open my eyes to see her watching me.

  I try to hide my disappointment, but fail, because I can’t fake it when I say, “I had to shoot my shot, right?”

  Her hand comes up, palming the back of my neck, and before I know what’s happening, she’s pulling me down to her, whispering, “Come here,” as
she does, and then she kisses me. And there’s no pause in her kiss like there was in mine. No hesitation. Her mouth opens, her tongue searching mine and when they meet, a million fireflies collide, lighting up the night sky, filling my lungs with magic. I curl my hands around her waist, lift her off her feet, and break the kiss just long enough to sit on the couch, her hips straddling mine. I go back to kissing her again, drowning in the way she feels pressed against me, the way my palms run smoothly along her bare legs. She has her arms around my head, her fingers grasping my hair, pulling, and fuck, I’ve missed this. She jerks back, gasping for air, and I can’t get enough, so I go to her neck, taste her there, all while my hands drift up and down her thighs. I pause a beat, my hand edging beneath her dress, the edge of her underwear right at my fingertips. She pulls on my hair, tilting my head back, and captures my mouth. And just when I begin to lose myself again, she pulls away. “Maybe we should slow down?”

  The only thing I can think to say is, “Huh?” Because I’m not really thinking. Obviously.

  “Maybe we should wait.”

  I drop my head on her shoulder, wait a moment for the blood to make its way back up to my brain. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve waited a year and a half for this.”

  Her eyes roll. “As if you’ve been waiting.”

  She’s delirious. She has to be. “I have.”

  “Right.” She nods once. “So, you’re telling me you haven’t been with anyone since you and me?”

  I lift my chin. “Yes.”

  “I call bullshit.”

  I adjust her on my lap, just enough so I can access the phone in my pocket. I dial Austin’s number, set it on speaker and hold it between us.

  “Hey,” he answers.

  “Yo, have I been with any girls since Ava?”

  “Haven’t even looked at one. Why?”

  I hang up, my eyebrows raised all: See? I told you so.

  “Okay,” she says, with a brattish lilt to her tone.

  “Why? Have you?” Before she gets a chance to respond, I cover her mouth. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”

  Both her small hands clasp mine, and she lowers it for me. “I haven’t been with anyone.”

  “Good.” I point between us. “Can we go back to what we were doing now?”

  She bites her lip, nods as she murmurs, “Mmm-hmm.”

  With her mouth open on mine, I ask, “Can I touch your butt?”

  She laughs, and I breathe in the sound, let it warm me. “Yes. You can even touch the side of my boob if you want.”

  “Fuck, yes.” I kiss her deeper. “It’s my lucky day.” My phone rings, and I grunt in frustration. Austin’s stupid face lights up my screen. “What?” I snap. Ava laughs into my neck, her hands flat on my stomach. She pushes down, grinding into me as she sucks hard on my neck. “You’re so fucking bad,” I whisper, grabbing a hand full of her ass to bring her closer to me.

  “Why am I bad?” Austin asks.

  Ava muffles her cackle on my shoulder.

  “What’s up?” I say into the phone.

  Austin replies, “Are you coming back tonight?”

  I tug on Ava’s hair until I can see her face clearly and ask, “Am I going back tonight?”

  She doesn’t skip a beat. “Nope.”

  Chapter 50

  Connor

  Two weeks have passed since that first night with Ava, and because we weren’t really prepared for how things turned out that night, neither of us were prepared. We fooled around, got to the point, then she asked me if I had protection, and I looked at her like she was stupid because why the hell would I? I didn’t sleep around, and neither did she, so we took care of each other in other ways until we fell asleep on her bed in a mass of sweaty limbs and post-orgasmic bliss.

  And now, according to her, she wants to wait. Apparently, it’s her therapist’s advice. Because her therapist wants to make sure Ava is following her heart and not the parts between her legs that might be calling to me. I don’t see what’s wrong with her vagina calling to me. I wouldn’t mind it. Hell, it can call to me mid-game, and I’d go running.

  I sound pathetic, but Ava—she makes me that way. And she wears dresses now. All the time. And I take back what I said about her being too beautiful to be hidden because I want to hide her. If I had a basement…

  Too far?

  Maybe.

  But, high school with Ava was one thing. Everyone knew she was mine, and it’s not like she was out there, in the wild, wearing dresses and looking all hot and adorable all the time. And it’s not that I wish she’d go back to being “stuck” taking care of her mom. I just… I get punchy and stabby, and college dudes are far more upfront with their leering, and I hate everyone and everything besides Ava.

  And Austin, I guess.

  He’s okay.

  “Connor!” Ava whisper-yells, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

  I blink, focus on her.

  “You’re doing that thing again.”

  “What thing?”

  “That stabby face you make. What is with you?”

  “He doesn’t like you in dresses,” Austin answers for me.

  “You don’t?” She looks down at her dress.

  “No,” I tell them both. “I like Ava in dresses. I don’t like other—”

  “How is a dress any different from my old school uniform?”

  My dick stirs, and it shouldn’t, especially considering we’re in the middle of the food court, and I really should start wearing more than basketball shorts because they’re bad at hiding certain things and those certain things are happening too often now that Ava’s back. “By chance, do you still have that uniform?”

  “You’re such a dick,” Ava says through a giggle, throwing a plastic fork at my head. Then she stands, picks up her bag. She makes her way over to me, kisses me with more passion than my shorts can handle. She bites my bottom lip as she pulls away. “I have to go see Mom.”

  “Okay.”

  She hasn’t asked me to come with her yet, and even though I’m dying to see Miss D, I know she has reasons and those reasons are pure. She wants to make sure that she and I are solid before reintroducing me into her mother’s life. Besides her telling me that she’s doing great and that she’s happy, she doesn’t give me much more.

  Which is fine.

  For now.

  She runs her fingers through my hair, and my eyes drift shut at the touch. “Come over after practice?”

  I nod, open my eyes again. “I’ll be there.”

  Austin groans. “I miss my best friend.”

  * * *

  I get through classes and practice and then rush to Ava’s apartment because… well, because it’s Ava. She answers the door in nothing but a towel, and after the initial shock, annoyance takes over. I shove her back in, slam the door shut behind me. “What the hell are you doing? Anyone could be at the door or just walking past, and they’re going—”

  “Shut up, Dad.”

  “I’m serious, Ava.” And then I chuckle. “And it’s Daddy to you.”

  Her nose scrunches. “Never.” She starts walking toward her room and says over her shoulder, “I was about to get in the shower.”

  I start stripping out of my clothes, and when she must realize, she turns to me. “No.”

  “That wasn’t an invitation?”

  “No.”

  I shrug my shirt back on. “My bad.”

  She giggles, kisses me once. “Go wait out in the living room; I’ll be quick.”

  “Fine,” I sigh out.

  In her kitchen, I reach for a glass from the top cabinet. A tall one. Because I’m thirsty, and not just for water. But I fumble, knocking down a shorter one in front of it. It hits the edge of the counter and falls to the floor, smashing to pieces. “Idiot,” I murmur, shaking my head. I pick up all the larger pieces and trash them, then go searching for a broom to clean the smaller shards. I check the hallway closet, the pantry. It’s not in any of those, and so I go to he
r laundry room, stand in the middle. Because I’m a male, and males can’t find things that are right in front of them.

  I spot her hamper in the corner, my eyes narrowing when I see the familiar black and orange. I make my way there, checking over my shoulder to make sure she’s not coming, and lift the jersey. I smile full force when I see the large 3 on the back, my name above. She still wears my jerseys. Elation swells in my chest, and I drop the garment when I hear the pipes clank, alerting me that she’s done. Remembering why I came here in the first place, I find the only other door in the room and swing it open. I find the broom, but I also find something that has my heart stopping instantly. Orange and black, and white and blue fill my vision. There are pictures of us on the walls of the closet and pictures of me on the shelves themselves. Newspaper cutouts, website printouts. Stacks of DVDs with dates and scores and stats and… I reach up, grab one, and open it. Besides the disc, there’s a single balloon—blue—and I inspect it closer, see the black marker. I grab another one. Same thing.

  “Connor?” she calls out. “Where are you?”

  I can’t speak.

  Can’t breathe.

  “Connor?” I hear her footsteps approaching, but I can’t… I can’t function. “What the hell are you doing?” she yells, taking the DVDs from me.

  “Ava, what is this?”

  “Nothing!”

  I finally manage to peel my eyes away from the closet and look down at her. Tears well in her eyes, and she’s trying to close the door, but I’m in the way, and her face contorts as she cries out, “You’re not supposed to see this! Can you go? Please!”

  “Ava…” I reach into the closet again, pull out a stack of DVDs. “These are all my games.” I open one, and a balloon falls out and lands on the floor.

  She’s quick to pick it up, grasping for the DVD cover, but I jerk away, grab a newspaper cutout to inspect that, too. She tries to take it from me. “Stop it!” she begs. I let her take the article while I go back to the DVDs, letting them fall from their stack. “You’re getting them out of order!” she sobs. “Stop!” She’s pulling on my hands, trying to push me away, and I finally let her. She’s crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, her breaths short, sharp, as her hands shake trying to replace everything in some form of order.