Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(60)

She nods slowly but refuses to meet my gaze.

My heart races as I sit behind her, my legs on either side. I wait a moment, pray she doesn’t push me away. When enough time passes, I scoot forward until my chest is pressed to her back and wrap my arms around her waist. A single sob escapes her, and she drops her face in her hands. “What’s this for?” she whispers.

“I don’t know,” I say, remembering the first time she’d been there for me. “It just looked like you needed it.”

Another whimper, and I’m moving to the side so I can see her. I reach up, hesitant, and cup her jaw. I wait for her response, because if she’s done with me, with us—if I fucked up beyond forgiveness, I’ll hate myself, but I’ll have no choice but to wear it.

Right now, the most important thing is her… and I need to make sure she’s okay.

Her eyes finally lift to mine, holding more pain than I know what to do with. And then her head tilts, her cheek pressing to my palm. She reaches up, holds my wrist in both her hands to keep me there.

Air fills my lungs, and I exhale, relieved.

I finger the strands of loose hair away from her eyes and bring her face closer to mine. “I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have asked you to—”

My hands move with her head shake. “No, I’m sorry, Connor.” She releases a staggered breath. “I didn’t mean to say all those things to you. I needed someone to blame, and you were there. I’m so sorry. And I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

“Why? Because of what that asshole—”

“No, because of the way I was.” She cries harder, her tears falling fast and free. I swipe them away with my thumbs, kiss them off her lips. “Connor, I never wanted you to see me like that, to see me break and fall apart and… God, why are you here? Why do you still care about me?”

“Ava,” I breathe out. “You had every right to feel the way you did... Jesus, I had no idea it was like that for you at school, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for asking you to do something I knew you weren’t comfortable doing. I’m sorry that shit happens to you and to your mom. I’m sorry it happens period. But you have to believe me; nothing you said or did today changes the way I feel about you.”

She grips my forearms, a single sob falling from her lips.

“Babe, look at me.”

Tear-soaked eyes lock on mine.

I kiss her once. “Promise you believe me.”

She shakes her head. “You can’t possibly tell me that you still look at me the same.”

My response is there, on the tip of my tongue, but it’s not enough. And even though I want to tell her how I truly feel, that I’ve fallen so hard and so fast and so deep… that my every thought, every action is consumed by her, this isn’t the right time or place, and so I take her hand in mine. “Let’s get you home. Your mom will be worried.”





I get ready for the game, but my heart’s not in it like it’s always been. There are too many thoughts flying through my mind, and every single one of them begins and ends with Ava. I peek out the living room window through the gaps of the blinds and wait.

“What are you doing?” Dad asks, slipping on his shoes.

“Waiting for Ava.”

“Is she coming to the game?” he asks, a hopeful lilt in his tone.

I shake my head. “No, but she always…” I trail off when I see her on the sidewalk, her steps slow, a single balloon on a string flopping down by her legs. “I’m going to need five minutes,” I tell Dad, now waiting by the door.

I wait a few seconds, my ear to the door, listening for the sound of her footsteps on our rickety porch. I count to three, then open the door, and sweep her into my arms from behind. She squeals, and a tiny bubble of laughter comes next, eliminating all prior worries about how she’d be feeling.

“Jeez, Connor, give the girl some room to breathe,” Dad jokes.

I close the door between us while I allow Ava to turn into me, her hands pressed to my chest. “Hi,” I say.

She bites down on her bottom lip. “Hi, boyfriend.”

I exhale, her words giving me the courage to say the words I’d been planning all night. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to listen to me, okay?”

She nods, eyes on mine.

I take one more deep breath before saying, “You told me before that it wasn’t possible for me to look at you the same. And you’re right. I don’t. And I can’t.”

Her gaze drops.

“Because when I look at you now, I see these curls,” I say, tugging on a loose strand, “and I picture you when you were little, and I imagine your mom getting frustrated with you because you won’t sit still so she can brush it. I bet you were stubborn, even back then.”

She exhales a staggered breath, her gaze lifting to mine again.

“And your hands…” I link my fingers with hers. “I used to look at them and just want to hold them, but now… now I see them, I touch them, and I realize how much weight these small hands can hold.” I grasp her face, swipe my thumb along her lips. “And these lips… I mean, yeah, sometimes I used to kiss them just to shut you up, but now… now I’ll kiss them and wonder what it’ll be like to kiss them ten, twenty years from now… And your eyes, I used to look at them, and they’d remind me of the hardwood of the courts, but now… now I look at them, and I see your strength and your courage and your fight to keep them clear. To keep them dry.” Liquid hope pools in her eyes, her chest rising with her intake of breath. And when she blinks, I catch the tears with my thumbs and kiss each of her cheeks. “But you never have to hide who you are with me. Because I’m here. And I’ll wear your pain as if it were mine. I promise.”