Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(45)

Ava catches me staring and lifts her shoulder, adjusts her clothes. She’s trying to hide whatever is there, and there’s only one reason why she’d do that. She doesn’t want me to know how it happened.

I scribble on my notepad: What happened?

She writes back: Nothing.

Bullshit.

I watch the seconds tick by, forming all the minutes until class is over and I can ask her out loud. As soon as the bell rings, she’s on her feet, rushing to get out. But she’s too slow, or I’m too fast, too desperate. I catch her just outside the door and grasp her arm to stop her from fleeing. “What happened?”

She inhales deeply, before stating, “Nothing. Stop worrying.” She tries to pull out of my hold, but I keep her there.

“Ava, I’m not playing. What the fuck happened? You’re MIA for five fucking days, and you come back hurt?”

“It’s not what you think,” she says.

I don’t even know what I’m thinking.

“I have to get to my next class. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

She bails, leaving me standing in the hallway with my heart pounding and my mind racing. Five days. Five fucking days and she hasn’t shown up to school once, has barely answered my texts. Ever since Trevor left—

Trevor left, and Peter came….

Peter.





Ava


I’m going to tell Connor the truth.

I decided a few minutes after leaving him in the hall that I would come clean and tell him everything. I wanted to tell him then and there, but the mix of anger and concern in his eyes had me panicking for a way out. I just needed a few minutes to myself so I could collect my thoughts and explain things in a way that would make him understand. The last thing I needed was for him to misplace his emotions and blame my mom for everything. Of all the things that could possibly ruin whatever it was we had going, his misunderstanding of my mom’s mental health would be the most heartbreaking.

I sit in the bleachers, our usual spot, and wait for him to show up while I make up pieces of our future conversation. I want to be ready for any questions he has, and I want the answers to be real. To be raw.

Minutes pass, and I start to get antsy. My breathing becomes shallow, my palms begin to sweat, and the burns begin to itch. I try not to think about it as I wait. Stand. Sit again. I check the school website for the basketball roster, thinking maybe he forgot he had some prior engagement. Nothing comes up. I stand again, look over and out and everywhere I can for him. Then my phone rings. It’s already in my hand, so I answer without looking.

“Connor?”

“It’s Krystal, Ava. I think you might need to come home, honey. A boy is fighting Peter in the front lawn.”

I hang up without a word, dial another number and start rushing toward the lot.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “What’s up?”

“I need a ride home. It’s Connor.”

“Meet me at my car.”





Rhys’s car screeches to a halt halfway up my driveway. I have one foot on the ground before he comes to a complete stop. “Oh, my God, Connor, stop!”

The two are wrestling on the grass, Peter on top of Connor, his fist raised. He gets a shot at Connor’s stomach, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. Connor rolls them both over until he’s on top, and his fist hitting Peter’s jaw sounds like lightning, feels like thunder. There’s blood pouring out of Connor’s nose and Peter’s mouth, splatters of crimson all over their shirts. “Stop!” I cry out, reaching for Connor’s arm. He doesn’t flinch. Another punch to Peter’s gut.

“Enough!” Peter yells, half defending himself while trying to buck Connor off him.

He has his hand on Connor’s throat now, while Connor screams, “Is that what Ava said, huh? Enough?”

“Connor stop it!” I squeal.

“I didn’t fucking touch her,” Peter yells, getting the strength to shove Connor away. Connor rolls to the side, but Peter won’t quit. “Who the fuck do you think you are!”

Connor kicks up his legs, gets Peter in his chest with a knee. “That’s enough!” Rhys shouts, trying to get between them.

“Ava!” Krystal calls out. “I’m calling the police.”

I can’t breathe. I can’t see through my tears.

Connor pushes Rhys away, and now he and Peter are on their feet, fists raised, both on the attack. “You ever touch her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Peter lunges for him, his shoulder going straight to Connor’s stomach. A guttural sound leaves Connor’s lips, and he’s on the ground, only for a second before he’s back up.

“A little help, Ava!” Rhys hollers, struggling. He’s holding Peter back, but he won’t last long, and fear and frenzy shake me from the inside.

I run as fast as I can from my house to Connor’s, my fists balled as I bang on the door. “Help!” I yell. I pound harder, faster, until the door finally opens. Connor’s dad looks at me wide-eyed and startled. “It’s Connor. You need—”

Corey’s racing down the steps and toward my house, and before I even make it back, he has his arms around Connor’s waist, trapping his hands to the side. “Knock it off!”