Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(11)

“Shirt pocket. Obviously.”

Chuckling, he swaps one tool for another. “I’m almost done here. Grab a drink if you want.”

“I’m good.”

A few minutes later, Trevor’s being handed a check by the diner owner, and we’re on our way. Walking side by side toward his truck, he nudges my shoulder. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We got the Preston job.”

“Trevor!” I squeal, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Are you serious? That’s amazing!” I wrap my arms around him, my laughter unconfined. God, we needed this. Even without the extra money or job security, we needed this; a tiny ray of light to help clear the darkness.

He returns my embrace with the same enthusiasm, and when he releases me, he asks, “Honestly, though, how did you get here?”

“Some guy from school gave me a ride.”

“Some guy?” he asks, eyebrow quirked.

I shrug, try to play it cool. “Apparently, I’m his new best friend.”





I haven’t stopped smiling since Trevor delivered the news, and neither has he. “So, tell me everything!” I all but shout, moving around the kitchen like it’s my job. Around us, music blares, filling our souls with a semblance of hope.

Tomorrow we’ll go back to worrying, to eating ramen and potatoes. But tonight? We celebrate. Tonight, it’s a three-course meal with all of Trevor’s favorites. He deserves it every day, but we’ve never been in a position to splurge like we are now.

Trevor sits on the counter, his legs swinging as he licks the wooden spoon from the cake mix I’ve just made. “The contractor they used for all their electrical work retired, so they were after someone new. I applied, went in for the interview with Tom Preston, told him about our situation—”

“You used our sob story to land the job?”

His brow bunches. “I did what I had to do, Ava. This job gives us an iota of breathing room, and it’s something we really need right now.”

“Oh, I know,” I assure. “I don’t blame you. I would’ve done the same.” Hell, I would’ve thrown in some waterworks if it guaranteed us the job. Everyone in town knows Tom Preston is a giant softy, especially when it comes to matters of family.

I shove the cake tin in the oven, slam the door, and turn to Trevor. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin, and I think I know why. “So…” he sing-songs, rocking back and forth. “Who’s the guy?”

I turn my back to him, pretend to be engrossed in the salad I’m spinning. “What guy?”

“What guy?” He repeats, mocking. “The guy who’s got you in a daze since you walked into the diner.”

“Pshh. What are you talking about?”

He points at me. “You think I don’t know you, Ava…”

True. He knows me well. Too well. I throw a piece of lettuce at his head. He ducks it, of course, and doesn’t bother with the cleanup.

“So?” he pushes.

“Trust me, there is no guy. And even if I were interested in someone, it’s not like I could—”

“You could.”

“Could what?”

“Date.”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Why not?”

“Because,” I snap. And even though I know he’s just teasing; I can’t ignore the microscopic ball of disappointment settling at the pit of my stomach. “Because I’d be the world’s flakiest girlfriend, that’s why.” And I can’t help comparing myself to the type of girl Connor could easily attain. I mean, the guy’s a god. And I don’t know why I’ve never noticed him in that way before because his presence is pretty hard to ignore. Well over six foot, eyes so blue you’d mistake them for puddles. His hair, that unintentional blend of messy perfection, parted in ways that let you know he spends many seconds running his fingers through it. His body—God, it’s a wonder the girls at school haven’t devoured him to pieces and spat out his remains. And don’t even get me started on his dimples. I didn’t even know he had them until I was riding in his car. But I think the thing I’m most drawn to is the way the blood rushed to his cheeks and his eyes lit up when I mentioned he was good-looking. I mean, he has to know, right? If the mirror doesn’t show him, then there are plenty of girls, and even guys, who would tell him, who would be more than happy to prove it to him.

When I saw the car in the lot, I put two and two together and assumed it was his. In a way, I was kind of hoping it was. I imagined what it would be like to sit with someone who (hopefully) knew nothing about me or my past or the moments that led me here. It felt like a blessing. Until I was sitting in that confined space with no way out, and I couldn’t ignore the way his forearms looked beneath his rolled-up sleeves or the way his large hands wrapped around the wheel. And I definitely couldn’t ignore the way his eyes drifted from the road, lower, lower, until they focused on my legs, and guh!

It’s so pointless. Stupid, really.

“No, you wouldn’t, Ava,” Trevor says, hopping down from the counter, and I can feel his pity from across the room. “You’d make a great girlfriend because you’re a great girl. You just—”