Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(20)

“Got it.”

He gets a few bags from his truck while I get rid of the trash.

When I get back to the sidewalk, I notice a note stuck on his mailbox, no doubt put there by the same kids—Insane Asylum. I look at the house again. The blinds are open, but the sheer curtains stop me from seeing much else.

When Trevor comes out, he notices what I’m looking at and rips it off before pocketing it.

“What’s that about?” I ask.

“Like I said, dumb kids…”



The sports park is insane, and I’ve dubbed it my new playground. And Trevor? He’s a cool dude. I would even consider him a friend. I learned that he lives with his stepmom and sister and that he used to play college football but blew out his knee and gave up on it. I also learned (the hard way) that Trevor is a natural-born athlete. Put a ball or a bat in his hand, and it’s like he was specifically built for it. He even gave me a hard time on the court, almost put me to shame until I realized I was taking it a lot more casually than he was. I amped up my game, gave it a hundred, and he assured me I’d have no problems getting into a D1 school, giving me the confidence I’d been struggling to find.

By the time I drive us back home, the sun’s already beginning to set. I would have stayed longer if Trevor didn’t have to get back. Hell, I would’ve stayed all damn night. “Thanks for hanging out,” I tell him, standing on the sidewalk. “It hasn’t been the easiest making friends, you know?”

He settles with his back against his fence, his hands in his pockets. “It’ll get better. You’re a good kid with a good head on you.” He glances toward his house. “Right now, your team probably sees you as a threat because you’re good, Connor. Like, really good. And people… people fear what they don’t know.”





AVA


Ava: Sleeping?

Connor: It’s, like, 9:30. Lol

Ava: Hey, I don’t know. Maybe playing with your balls all day got you tired.

Connor: Dirty girl.

Connor: I like it.

Connor: What’s up?

Ava: Nothing, just researching these serial killers. It’s a little depressing.

Connor: I know. I had to stop after a while, too. It’s kind of messed up that we’re so intrigued by it all.

Ava: Because people fear what they don’t know.

Connor: You’re the second person to tell me that today.

Ava: Really? Strange. But I think that’s why it’s so intriguing, right? The more we know, the less afraid we are of it all.

Connor: That makes sense. No wonder you’re taking this class.

Ava: Why are you?

Connor: Not gonna lie, I thought it would be easy. Why are you taking it?

Ava: I think it might be something I’ll want to get into more when I’m older. Not necessarily a career, but… I don’t know. It would be nice if I could help turn someone’s bad day into just a bad moment.

Connor: That’s… that’s a really great way to look at things, Ava. For real.

Ava: Also because the human mind intrigues me. Makes me curious…

Connor: Uh oh. Why do I feel like those ellipses are a segue to something else… about me?

Ava: Because they might be…





My eyes widen when Connor’s name flashes on the screen. I clear my throat, sit up in bed. “Hello?”

“I figured it was easier to talk than text.” His voice… I never really paid attention to it before, but now that I hear it, and it’s all that I hear… holy shit. Deep and smooth and so intense… he could easily host a podcast, and I’d listen to it regardless of the topic.

“Ava? You there?”

“Yeah.” I swallow. “Yeah, I’m here.”

The speaker distorts with his light chuckle. “So what’s up? What about me has your curiosity piqued?”

I pick at the blanket covering my thighs and stare at the wall opposite me, trying to find the courage, the words… “It’s about what happened to you.”

A loud sigh from his end. “Yeah, I figured. I mean, I hoped it wasn’t that, but here we are.”

“Do you not like talking about it?” I ask.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, so much as… it’s not really something I’ve shared with anyone besides professionals, you know?”

“Wait. I’m the first real person you’ve told?”

“Well, yeah. I guess.”

“But why—”

“I don’t know, Ava,” he says through an exhale. “It just kind of came out in frustration.”

“Because I pushed you?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Moments pass, neither of us saying a word. I listen to him breathe, and I wonder if he’s doing the same.

Finally, he says, “I don’t know what happened to her if that’s what you’re wondering.”

It was exactly what I was wondering.

He adds, “There was no evidence she got on a plane, at least under her name. And there’s been no evidence of her existence since.”

“Do you—” I start, my voice cracking with emotion. “Do you remember when you stopped looking for her?”