Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(33)

Slowly, carefully, I make my way up her driveway until I’m standing in front of her.

She’s staring straight ahead, her eyes wide.

“Ava,” I whisper.

She doesn’t respond.

I look up at the house again, but there are no signs of life. So, I sit down next to her, keep my voice low. “What are you doing out here?”

She doesn’t look at me when she whispers, “The fireflies are gone.”

“What?”

She turns to me now, and lit only by the moonlight, I see her face clearly. Wetness trails down her cheeks, remnants of the tears she’s been shedding.

My chest tightens at the sight, and I reach for her hand, link my fingers with hers.

Heartbreak forms in her words even though her features are void of emotion. “Mom says that when the world is at its darkest, that’s when the magic appears.” Anguish falls from her eyes, and she doesn’t make a move to wipe them away. “But there’s nothing but empty darkness and negative numbers and... and the fireflies are gone, and I’m finding it really fucking hard to believe in magic right now.”

I wish I knew the right thing to say or the right thing to do. But I don’t. I let her words settle through me, every single one echoed in my mind. I hold her hand tighter, letting her know that I’m here, with her, for however long she needs me. Time passes without meaning, and I hear every one of her breaths, each one claiming a part of my heart.

“I was dead,” I tell her, my voice calm. “There was a couple on their way to their honeymoon who spotted me in the car. A couple who just happened to be first responders. Apparently, they tried waking me by knocking on the window, and when I didn’t stir, they smashed it open with their luggage. I wasn’t breathing…” I pause just so I can push down the knot in my throat. “They got me out of the car, and the man did CPR while his wife called 911. They worked on me for ten whole minutes before I coughed out my first breath. Ten minutes. And who knows how long I was out before they got to me. I was barely conscious by the time help arrived.”

Ava squeezes my hand, moves closer to me.

“What are the odds? What are the chances that the people who saw me were the right people at the right place and the exact right time? They brought me back to life, Ava.” I turn my body to hers and gently place my hand on the back of her head, bring her ear to my chest, right above my heart. “Do you hear it?” I ask. “My heartbeat?”

“Yes,” she whispers, her tears soaking through my shirt.

I blink back my own and try to stay strong, for her. “If you need proof that magic exists, I’m right here.”





Chapter 23





Ava





Connor’s grin is stupid, and I wish it didn’t give me butterflies like it does. “You made me lunch?”

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, adjusting my school blazer over my knees, so we don’t have a repeat of previous days. “You won’t shut up about how bad the food is here, so…”

Swear, his dimples have never been so deep. “So, you made me lunch?”

“I didn’t make it for you. It’s leftovers. It would’ve just gone to waste.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, devouring a mouthful of last night’s lasagna. “I’m sure Trevor would’ve loved a second serving.”

I wince. “Yeah, maybe don’t tell him.”

“What? That you made me lunch?”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.”

He chuckles. “And yet, here we are.”

I spend a few minutes just watching him eat, a comfortable silence shared only between us. But I have questions. So many of them. And somehow, he picks up on this, because he says, “Yes, I met the couple who saved me. Yes, I keep in contact with them. They’re retired now, but they send me a birthday card every year. Dad and the guy became close friends. He actually helped Dad become a paramedic.”

Eyes wide in surprise, I open my mouth, but nothing comes.

“I can read you like a book, Ava.”

I lean forward, look right into his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks, rearing back. “You’re creeping me out.”

“I’m trying to read your mind,” I mumble. “Stay still.”

With a laugh, he says, “I don’t think that’s how it works, but here—” he leans forward, his nose an inch from mine, bright blue eyes staring back at me “—do your best.” His hands are on my knees, moving higher and higher. My breath catches, the tension between us building and building. Then his gaze drops, a slight change, but one I notice. One I feel.

“You’re scared,” I whisper.

Defensively, he asks, “Scared of what?”

Of me, I want to tell him. He’s afraid of the same things I am. That no matter how hard we try to fight it, we can’t stop the momentum. We’re getting closer, and these feelings we harbor are just getting stronger and stronger.

I pull away.

Look away.

And come up with a lie. “You're scared about your first game tonight, right?”

Connor huffs out a breath. “Yeah,” he admits, sighing heavily. His entire body seems to deflate with that single admission. “I actually am.”