Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(52)

“Yeah,” I say, because it’s all I can say.

“Okay,” he declares, eyes on mine, cheesy smile in place. Back to the old Trevor, he squeezes my shoulder, his thumb digging into the bruise on my collarbone. “You get her pregnant, and I’ll fucking kill you.”





Chapter 34





Connor





“I look like I’m going to a funeral,” I say, glaring at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing the school-issued suit that the team has to wear when we’re attending the games but are ineligible to play.

Dad sighs, watching me from my bedroom doorway. “I can’t believe you got suspended. And tonight, of all nights, Connor. What the hell—”

“Stop,” I tell him. “Just stop, okay? I know.”

“Well, you have to show up, right? Maybe you can catch the scout before he leaves.”

“Okay,” I say, my eyes drifting shut, shoulders tense, hands balled in frustration.

My phone dings with a text, and I pick it up off my desk.

Ava: BOYS!!

Connor: ?

Rhys: A little early in your relationship for a three-way, but I’m down.

Connor: Gross.

Ava: Hot.

Connor: What’s up?

Ava: Suit up, boys!

Rhys: Huh?

Connor: What?

Ava: Suit up! Or whatever the term is. Get in your uniforms. You guys are playing tonight.

Connor: No fucking way.





I rip off my tie and slip out of my shoes, my grin unconfined.

Rhys: Are you serious?

Connor: How?

Rhys: ^^ what he said.





“What’s going on?” Dad asks.

“Ava got me back in.”

“Good. It’s the least she could do,” he murmurs.

I ignore him. Read the next message.

Ava: I just had to show Brown my boobs. He was very appreciative.

Connor: Dammit, Ava!!!

Rhys: Noice!

Ava: Does it matter how? Just go!!! Get ready!!! You’ll be late.

Rhys: Thanks, A.





Another message shows up in a different box, just mine and Ava’s.

Ava: So… is this what they call coming in clutch?

Connor: It is! You’re amazing. I don’t know what you did, but thank you, Ava. THANK YOU.

Ava: You’re welcome, baby.

Ava: Now go!!

Connor: I’m going!





I change as quickly as I can and rush Dad out the door so I can make it for pregame and warm-ups. I practically sprint to Dad’s car, and with my fingers on the door handle, I stop when I hear Ava call my name. I turn to see her running toward me, barefoot and beautiful. Her hair’s wet and free of its usually messy knot. It’s the first time I’ve seen it like that. The curls flow behind her as she races toward me. She’s holding a bright orange balloon and the marker used to write her usual words. She stops when she gets to me, her breathing heavy. “Boo!” she jeers, handing me the balloon.

I take it from her grasp, my cheeks aching with the force of my smile. One hand on her waist, the other shifting her hair. “I like your hair down.”

“You do? I just got out of the shower to answer Brown’s call and messaged you as soon as I could.” She glances over my shoulder to my dad, who no doubt watches us. Her smile falls, and she takes a step back. “Good luck, okay?”

I pull her back to me, not caring who’s watching, and plant a kiss on her lips, passionate and painfully perfect.

Just like her.





Sweat drips down my forehead and into my eyes, and I blink it back, pour water over my face. It’s our last timeout of the game, and I’ve given it everything I have. Our score reflects that, and so does the burn in every one of my muscles. My chest heaves, my shoulders, too. Flames fire in my lungs, and Coach looks at me. “You want out?”

“No, sir.”

“You haven’t had a minute off, Ledger. It won’t break you.”

I swallow between shallow breaths. “I’m good.” Then I look up at Dad watching from the stands, his arms crossed. He nods, a show of encouragement. And then he smiles at me, and I’m reminded of all the times he’s been there, all the times he’s done exactly this—even before the end game. “You got it, son!” he shouts loud enough to hear over the chanting of the crowd.

“You okay, man?” Rhys asks.

“Yeah.” I shake off all other thoughts. “I’m good. Let’s do this.”

We’re only on the court for another two minutes before the final buzzer sounds. I shake hands with the other team and then rush to the bench so I can sit down, give my body time to recover. Elbows on my knees, I hunch over myself and towel the sweat off my face. “Good job, Ledger,” Coach says. “You really turned it on tonight.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

I stay on the bench longer than the rest of the team. While they leave to hit the showers and the crowd starts to depart, I let my muscles start to solidify again. I’d been weak, weaker than I should be, and I make a promise to start hitting the gym more and working on my stamina. I should be focusing on sprint sets rather than long distance.