Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(25)

I stand, my fists balled, and recall those punk kids messing with their house. Insane Asylum.

Dad adds, “They even call her two-face.”

“Enough.” I’m angry, furious, but beyond that, I’m fucking devastated. I picture Ava smiling, hear her laughing, and I wonder how the hell it’s possible she still manages to do any of that when her life… I don’t even know anything about her.

“There’s more, Connor,” Dad says, but I’m done listening.

“I don’t…” I don’t want to know.

“Look, I just think it’s important for you to know everything before you get involved with someone like her.”

“Someone like her?” I spit. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if you take things further with her, it can and will get complicated. There’s so much more I haven’t even told—”

“With all due respect, if we decide to take things further, that’s our decision. And if there’s more to the story, I’d rather hear it from Ava.”





Chapter 18





Ava





Connor: Where the hell do you hide every lunch break?





Chewing my lip, I contain my smile and think twice about letting him know. For a while now, I’ve been coming to the same spot, living in isolation. I’ve enjoyed it, so I thought. But I enjoy Connor’s company more. I reply with a picture of what’s in front of me, set my phone down, and wait.

It only takes a couple of minutes for him to appear, long legs on the bright green grass of the football field. His eyes keep shifting from his phone to the field, again and again, no doubt looking for exactly where I might be.

He spots me within seconds and strides up the steps, taking them two at a time. He sits on the bench in front of me, legs bent, feet next to mine.

I point to the ball under his arm. “You take that with you everywhere?”

He shrugs. “Habit. I sleep with one, too.”

“No, you don’t,” I chide.

Another shrug. “I get lonely at night.”

He dribbles the ball next to his knee, higher, lower, again and again. But he doesn’t speak, doesn’t even look at me.

“What’s with you?” I ask.

He doesn’t skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

I grab the ball, hold it behind my back. “Is everything okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He holds out his hand, asking for the ball, but I shake my head.

“Your words say mmm-hmm, but your face says something’s going on.”

He smiles, but it’s fake. “You know my faces?”

“I watch you through your bedroom window. I see you more than you know.”

A forced chuckle from him to accompany his flat words. “My bedroom’s on the opposite side of your house.”

“Who says I watch you from my house? I’m standing outside your window,” I say, my attempt at a joke that doesn’t seem to fly.

“And you say I’m the creep?”

It’s our usual back-and-forth, but the tone is off. Even if I couldn’t see it in the dullness of his eyes, I can feel it in my heart. “Connor, what’s going on?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, then tugs at the end. “I just…” He peeks up at me through his long, dark lashes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I was telling my dad about you last night…”

Said in any other context, I’d be surprised and maybe a little flattered, but here? Now? I just feel… like something horrible is about to happen. “What did he say?” I croak.

He waits a beat, his words unsure. “He told me about your mom or stepmom…”

I nod, already knowing the fate of the conversation. “My mom,” I tell him, heat burning behind my eyes. “What did he say about her?”

“Nothing bad,” he assures. “He just told me what he heard from a guy at his work. And it’s not like gossip or anything. When Dad told him where we lived, he mentioned—”

“The guy warned him about her?”

“No,” he’s quick to say, sitting higher. “Ava, it’s not like that.”

I look away, afraid he’ll see the tears threatening to fall. I just wanted a friend, and I thought I found that in Connor. But I knew, as much as I tried to ignore it, I knew he’d find out eventually, and knowing the truth would take him away from me. I push down the lump in my throat. “What did he tell you exactly?”

Connor sighs. “He told me about the incident at the store, about how she… she…”

“Yeah, I’m aware of what happened,” I murmur. I remember getting the call at school and rushing to the store to get to her. I remember the stares, the whispers as I walked by the witnesses. By the time I saw her, the cops had her detained in the storeroom. She was crying, belligerent and afraid, and then William appeared, and I could see it in his eyes: he’d lost the fight to fake it. He was gone soon after that incident. And I was left to pick up the pieces. I try hard not to blink, not to let the liquid heat fall from my eyes, but I fail. A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I swipe it with the back of my hand.