Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(72)

“I don’t expect you to be, Ava.” Even though he said it so matter-of-fact, so innocently… the truth behind those few words shatters any dignity I have left. He adds, “I told you I don’t want anything more from you than you, and I meant it.”

But it’s not enough anymore.

And maybe I’m not enough.

He shifts, getting more comfortable on my bed. His back to the wall, he pats his lap. “Come here.”

I ignore the blinding ache in my chest and move to him, straddling his lap.

His hands settle on my thighs while mine go to his shoulders. “I came here for my goodnight kiss, remember?”

Nodding, I close my eyes, hide my doubt, and press my lips to his. His mouth opens, wanting more, and so I give him what he wants. It doesn’t take long for his hands to wander, first to my butt, then my breasts, under my top. His kisses move down, down, down, while his hands move up, up, up taking my tank with him. I do the same with him, our bare chests pressed together as he holds me to him, shifts us until I’m underneath him and he’s between my legs. He starts to unbutton his jeans and then unzip his fly, and if this is what he came here for… if this is what he wants from me… I’ll give it to him. It’s the least he deserves, the least I can do. I roll us until he’s on his back and make fast work of removing his shoes, then his jeans. I kiss his stomach and move lower to the smattering of hair just above his boxer shorts. His hands find the back of my head, fingers curled, and I pull down on the waistband and don’t waste any time. I take him in my mouth, taste him, feel his thighs tense beneath my touch. He whispers my name, and I should feel something… aroused or dominant or desired, but I don’t.

I feel like a whore.

The sudden sound of glass breaking has us pulling apart. I rush for my top at the same time he quickly covers himself. “Stay here,” I tell him, throwing my top back on. I run out of the room, switching on lights, my heart thumping against my chest.

Not again.

Not again.

Not again.

I check the living room and kitchen, but they’re empty. Trevor’s out of his room, and his panic matches mine. I open Mom’s door. She’s on the floor, shards of glass around her. “Mama!” I scream, and she looks up, points to her foot.

Blood.

“What happened?” I rush out, moving in on her.

“I knocked over the glass,” she deadpans. “Stepped on it.” There’s no life in her words or her eyes.

I glare at Trevor and shout, “Why the hell is there glass in her room?!”

He rears back. “I must’ve left it there when I gave her the meds earlier. Shit, Ava, I don’t know.”

“You know she can’t be around this!” I say, dropping to my knees, ignoring the blood pooling around her. There’s so much. Too much. Memories flood my brain and I try to push them away, but they’re too strong. Too forceful. “How could you do that!” I scream at him.

“It was an accident!” he shouts back.

“Stop yelling!” Mom says, covering her ears. She starts to rock back and forth, and I try to settle my breathing, try to calm myself down. But I can’t.

“You can’t have accidents with her, Trevor! You know you can’t!” Tears fall, fast and free, and I open her drawer, pull out whatever I can find to stop the bleeding. I press it to her foot, and she screams, kicks my hands off of her.

“Get away!” she yells, a terror in her voice that has my pulse escalating. I glance at Trevor, and he feels it, too.

“I need to check your foot. There might be glass!”

She kicks my chest and screams, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” And then she looks up, her eyes wide and focused on my doorway. “Who are you?” she breathes out, fear and horror etched on her face.

Connor’s in the doorway, his eyes huge. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Get away!” She kicks me again. “Go! Go! Go!”

Ignoring Connor, I grab at Mom’s foot, blocking her kicks, and now Trevor’s on the floor behind her, pinning down her arms. “Connor, a little help!”

Connor steps into the room, alarm evident in his voice. “What can I do?”

I’m still wrestling with Mom’s legs when Trevor orders, “Hold her legs down.”

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Connor says, panicked.

“Just do it, Connor!” I plead.

He drops to his knees in front of me and wraps his arms around her legs, holding them together.

Liquid crimson on my hands, I hold on to Mom’s foot, but I can’t see through the blood. “I can’t see!” I cry out.

“Get off of me!” Mom thrashes, trying to get out of all our holds.

Distressed, Trevor says, “We need to call—”

“My dad,” Connor cuts in, phone on the floor, on speaker, already dialing.

His dad answers on the first ring, and Connor says, “I need you at Ava’s.”

“I’ll be right there.”

For the few minutes it takes to hear the sirens approaching, the only one who speaks is my mom, mumbling words in a language only she understands. Trevor and Connor keep their hold on her while she thrashes around, screaming, then whispering, over and over. Outside, dogs bark, and inside… inside is the world at its darkest, and there’s no magic in sight.