Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(75)

Four.

Five.

“Connor?” A hand on my shoulder forces my eyes open. I look up to see Dad standing beside me.

I lift my head off the pile of papers on my desk and stretch my arms, my back, snapping my muscles and bones into place. With a grimace, I ask, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Son,” he says, eyeing me dubiously. “It’s morning. You must’ve fallen asleep at your desk.”

“What?” I sit up straight, look at my watch. “Goddammit.”

And then I check my phone.

No sign of Ava.

“Maybe you’re pushing yourself too hard,” Dad suggests.

Disappointed and disillusioned, I don’t bother responding.

He adds, “Why don’t you take the day off school? Maybe you just need a little reboot.”

I nod, already getting into bed.

“You need anything?” he asks.

I stare up at the ceiling. “I’m good.”

The second the door’s closed, I send her a text.

Connor: Not at school today. I guess I’ll catch you whenever.





And then I switch off my phone because I’m done waiting.

Done hoping.





I wake up to the sound of Dad’s voice, and when I peer through my heavy lids, I see him standing in my doorway. “You have a visitor,” he tells me, stepping to the side.

In her school uniform, Ava stands just outside my room. I force my eyes to open wider so I can check the time. It’s mid-morning. “Shouldn’t you be at school?” I mumble.

Ava shrugs, her gaze down, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. She glances between Dad and me as if asking us both, “Can I come in?”

She’s a vision of guilt and remorse, and my chest tightens, but it doesn’t give out, and I don’t give in. I’m still pissed, and I don’t have it in me to hide it. “If that’s what you want,” I breathe out.

Dad closes the door once Ava’s in the room but leaves it ajar—his way of setting rules we haven’t yet discussed.

Ava stands at the side of my bed, looking down at me. She’s chewing her lip, her eyes on mine. Tears pool there, and I look away.

She fumbles over her words, starting and stopping, and I just want to go back to sleep where time didn’t exist, and I don’t have to deal with this. Not today. Not after last night. “I’ve been calling and messaging all morning, and when I couldn’t get through, I left school and I… I caught a cab here.”

I push down my anger and frustration. “You didn’t need to do that. I’m fine.”

She sits on the edge of my bed and is quiet a beat, then: “I told you I’d make a shitty girlfriend and you—”

“You’re going to blame me?” I face her now. “Dammit, Ava. I waited all night for your call.” I sit up. “I needed you. You’re the only one who can refocus the mess in my head, the only one who can make everything inside me settle and allow me to see straight, and if you were too busy, I understand, but don’t tell me you’re going to do something and then just forget I exist.”

“I didn’t forget—” She stops there, shaking her head. Then she blows out a heavy breath. “I’m going to go,” she says, standing. “I’m not making things any better by being here, so… I’m sorry, Connor. I’m sorry I disappointed you,” she cries out. “And I don’t know what else to say.”

She starts to leave, but I grasp her hand, my heart and head pounding. I come back to reality. It was one fucking game. Just one. And if I want her forever, like I know I do, there are going to be other games, other moments where she can’t be there, and I’ve been selfish. God, I’ve been so fucking selfish.

I won’t lose her over this.

I can’t.

She allows me to pull her closer, her back turned. I press my cheek into her open palm, kiss the inside of her wrist. “Don’t go,” I plead.

She turns to me, her tear-stained cheeks cracking open my chest. “I want so badly to be everything you need me to be.”

I pull on her arm until her knees are on my bed, my hands going to her face, thumbs swiping away her sadness. “You are, Ava. And I’m so sorry I made you feel otherwise.”

She nods, grasping my wrists.

“Stay?”

Another nod, and I’m shifting until my back’s against the wall. She gets to her feet to slip off her shoes while I lift the covers to let her in. Her head on the crook of my shoulder and her hand on my heart, I ask, “Is everything okay with your mom?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She leans up to look down at me. “I’m here now. For you. I want to know everything.”

I shake my head, push away the past twenty-four hours of my life, and start living for now. “You’re right. You’re here now. And nothing else matters.”

She kisses me, her tongue swiping against my lips, and I’m suddenly awake and alive, and when she moves down to my neck, I stop her. I get out of bed, peek my head out the door to see Dad’s bedroom door closed. He’s asleep after his shift. I close the door. Lock it. Then strip out of my shirt and get back into bed with the girl I love.