Heartache and Hope: Heartache Duet Book One

by Jay McLean

  It takes a moment for Dad to respond. “Right. And… Trevor’s father? Where is he?”

  I speak up. “Dad, what’s with the twenty questions?”

  Dad shakes his head as if clearing the fog. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Ava says. “He left a while back.”

  “So, it’s just you kids taking care of her and the house and all the bills?”

  Ava nods, then shakes her head. “No, we have a caregiver stay with her when Trevor’s at work and I’m at school. But yeah, on the evenings and weekends it’s just us.”

  “Oh, good,” Dad says. “I assume that’s all done through your health insurance?”

  “I wish, but no. Insurance doesn’t cover nearly enough of it. The military only really covered her physical injuries, and even though we still get her full benefits it’s not even close to…” Ava pulls away. Just a tad. “I sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. I promise. Things could be a lot worse,” she says, looking up at me. She faces my dad again, a frown on her lips. “At least she’s alive, and we can be a family. And I’m sure you and I can both agree that there’s nothing more important in this world than family. That’s why we sacrifice the things we do and protect the people we love.”

  Dad sucks in a sharp breath, exhales slowly. “You’re absolutely right, Ava.”

  Ava smiles at him, then, on her toes, she kisses me once. “Stay,” she tells me. “Have dinner with your dad. I’ll call you later.”

  “Ava,” Dad calls again. “If you or your brother or your mom… if you need anything that I can help with, please…” he trails off, nodding, before disappearing into the kitchen.

  “Jeez, Connor. I had no idea how bad things were for her,” Dad says, setting the table for us. “I feel horrible for the things—”

  “I appreciate it,” I tell him. “But I’m not the one you should be saying this to.”

  With a nod, he sits opposite me at the table, his hands clasped under his chin. “I’m going to make a few calls in the morning, see what I can find out about getting her some financial help for her mother’s care.”

  My brow lifts. “Yeah?”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  I sit back in my chair, watching him closely. “What’s with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like you’ve done a complete 180. Your attitude’s changed, and now you’re acting… I don’t know.”

  Dad’s chest lifts with his inhale. “I reconnected with an old friend today, and they gave me a little perspective. That’s all.”

  “Anyone I know?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No.”

  Chapter 36

  Ava

  Connor says, downing last night’s pasta as he sits on the bench in front of me, “It sucks that our paper’s done. Now we don’t have an excuse to whisper dirty things in each other’s ears during class.”

  My eyes narrow. “You’ve never whispered dirty things in my ear.”

  He chuckles while chewing. “Shit. Different class. Different girl.”

  “Hmm. Now I’m really glad I put cyanide in your food.”

  He eyes me a moment, then slowly lowers the container next to him.

  “I’m kidding,” I laugh out.

  Shaking his head, he says, “I’m not willing to risk it.”

  “Speaking of murders…”

  “It’s such a turn-on when your girlfriend talks about killing people.” I push on his shoulder with my foot and regret it the moment he grabs hold of my ankle and then my waist, effortlessly lowering me until I’m sitting across his thighs. “Go on.”

  I get comfortable in my new position and throw my arm around his neck, fingernails scratching the back of his head. He moans, drops his head between his shoulders. I say, “So I read a story this morning about this twenty-nine-year-old man who saw his dad kill his mom and bury her in their yard when he was three years old. Apparently, when she ‘disappeared,’ he told the cops his dad hurt his mom, but the cops didn’t believe him. Because, like, he’s three, right?”

  He’s quiet a moment, then, “Huh.”

  “And who remembers stuff like that when they’re three.”

  His eyes are on mine, searching.

  “Anyway,” I continue, “he moved back to that same home twenty years later and dug up the spot where he remembers seeing it and guess what?”

  “They found her remains.”

  I nod, lips pressed tight.

  “That’s crazy.”

  “I know! Imagine carrying around those memories for so many years, from when he was three.”

  He swallows, looks away. “That’d be pretty horrible.”

  “Right?” I exhale harshly. “Thank God you don’t remember anything from when your mom—” I cut myself off, because shit. “Sorry,” I say, my voice quiet. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  He shrugs. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it was insensitive,” I admit. “I just had a brain fart moment.”

  “Speaking of brain farts,” he says, “what the hell were you wearing when you came over last night?”

  My eyes go huge, my breath catching. I pull on his hair, ignore his screech of pain. “I was trying to make a good impression. The first time I met your dad wasn’t exactly under the best circumstances!”

  “You looked like my grandma.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. “You make out with your grandma?”

  “I barely make out with you,” he mumbles.

  “Aww.” I settle my hands on the sides of his head and make him face me. “You want to make out with me?”

  “I’d like to do more than make out with you, but…” He looks around us. “Here?”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “You got your car keys?”

  He nods, biting down on his lip. Then he’s practically throwing me off of him and taking my hand, dragging me down the steps. I giggle the entire way to the parking lot.

  Five minutes later and he has my back pressed to the inside of his car door. His mouth is on my neck, lips warm, tongue wet. His hands are everywhere, all at once. I untuck his shirt from his pants and feel the muscles on his stomach, then bring my hands to his back, clawing him closer to me. I can’t get enough, and neither can he because he whispers my name as if it’s air in his lungs. He covers my mouth again, his tongue sliding against mine, and I wish he had a bigger car, or I had a car at all because he’s too large for such a small space and I want to feel him all over me and around me, and God… inside me. My legs part when his hand slides up from my knee to my bare thigh. He pauses an inch below where I want him the most, his forehead going to my shoulder. He curses, and I look at the roof of his car, my breaths shallow. And then he covers that inch, his thumb stroking. Just once. I buck beneath his touch, and he curses again. And then he’s pulling away completely, his eyes glazed, hooded, leaving me cold and confused. He settles back in his seat, adjusting himself, his chest rising and falling. “We can’t do it like this…” he murmurs, looking at me. I adjust my clothes and sit up. “In my car? At school?” He sighs heavily.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  “But I want to, Ava. God, I want to do everything with you.”

  “I know,” I say again.

  And then we let the silence linger between us because we both know what the next question will be. How?

  Connor: Send me a picture of you.

  Ava: Are you… are you asking for nudes? Because you can fuck right off, please and thank you.

  Connor: Lol. No. I just don’t have any pics of you that aren’t taken from outside your bedroom window while you’re sleeping.

  Ava: Dude…

  Connor: Hi, I’m Connor. Pleased to creep you.

  Connor: But seriously send me a pic. I don’t have any of you, and I want it as my home screen.

  I bite down on my lip, scandalous thoughts running through my mind. In the month we’ve been together, we’ve not shared anything more than a slight
touch to the wrong—or right—places. I switch off my bedroom light and turn on the lamp, then I get into bed, lower the thin strap of my tank top to reveal my bare shoulder. Eyes on the lens, I lick my lips, take a snapshot. I send it to him without a second thought.

  Connor: Jesus Christ, Ava. That’s not home screen material, that’s…

  Ava: You want another one?

  Connor: Maybe move your top down a little more? Just an inch.

  I comply, shifting until the neckline barely covers the top of my breasts. I take another photo, send it to him.

  Minutes pass with no response.

  Ava: Are you there?

  Connor: Can I call you?

  Ava: Yeah.

  My phone vibrates in my hand, and I quickly answer. “Give me a sec. I’ll just plug in my headphones.”

  “Mmm.”

  After grabbing my headphones from my nightstand, I connect them wirelessly and put one in my ear, needing the other free so I can hear the rest of the house. “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Ava,” he says, his voice low. Rough. “I need you to send me another one.”

  I swallow, knowing what he’s asking for. “You first.”

  My phone vibrates almost instantly. He’s lying on his back, his hair a mess, eyes half-hooded. And he’s shirtless, his collarbone and muscled chest on full display.

  “Your turn,” he insists, his voice barely audible.

  I hesitate a beat, before lifting my shirt and angling the camera so my stomach and the underside of my breasts are in view. I quickly hit send, my body heating, pulse throbbing between my legs.

  “Fuck, Ava,” he groans, his voice muffled by what I assume is his pillow. “You’re killing me.”

  “Send me another one,” I whisper, gasping for air.

  I hear him shift, and a moment later, his picture comes through. This one’s similar to the one I sent, an image of his perfect six-pack, each one defined by deep dips. There’s a scattering of dark hair between that V that drives women wild. It leads to a spot covered by the waistband of his boxers, an inch above his basketball shorts.

  My mouth is dry. So dry. And I squeeze my legs together to try to increase the sensation there. I’m breathing heavy, so heavy I’m sure he can hear it. I force a swallow, try to regain some composure, but I can’t. My entire body is on fire, and I’m squirming, trying to find some form of reprieve from the powerful ache building inside me.

  “Babe,” he says, but it comes out a moan. I can hear him shifting, moving, and I imagine him in his bed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling, his hand in his shorts… thinking of me. “Your turn.”

  I shove my hand beneath my underwear, the tip of my finger pressing down on my nub. I let out a moan before picking up my phone and hitting the button. I check the picture, just enough for him to know what I’m doing without revealing too much.

  I hit send.

  “Fuck, Ava.”

  I close my eyes, listen to the sounds of our breaths. Short. Sharp. Shallow. Amplified by the silence around us. I move my hand faster, faster, my back arching off the bed as I climb, climb, climb.

  The phone vibrates again, and I open his next picture. A whimper escapes when I see it. His hand’s in his boxers, the outline of his knuckles clear, his hand circling his rock-hard—

  Connor grunts, and I close my eyes again, my pleasure soaking my fingers. We don’t say another word. We’re nothing but heavy breaths and grunts and whimpers. I listen intently. Every sound, every movement. Every rapid, rhythmic shift. I know he’s doing the same as what I’m doing, and I imagine that we’re doing it to each other. The vision pushes me over the edge, a muted scream bursting from my throat. I bite down on my lip, my entire body convulsing as he moans with each of his breaths, louder and louder until one last, long grunt.

  I listen to his breathing settle while mine does the same. An entire minute passes before I hear him chuckle. “Holy shit, Ava.”

  I sigh, long and loud. “Teenage hormones are one hell of a drug.”

  Chapter 37

  Connor

  “So… last night was…” I say, looking down at Ava’s legs. Her skirt seems higher today, or maybe it’s the way she’s sitting, or maybe she’s doing it just to mess with me.

  “Intense?” she asks and lifts her skirt another inch. Yeah. She’s definitely messing with me. I grip the steering wheel tighter, and she giggles when I moan and adds, “Keep your eyes on the road, stud.”

  “Fine.” I do as she says and tell her, “You know I have that pep rally in the cafeteria today, so I can’t meet you at lunch.”

  “Oh really? I must’ve missed the six hundred posters plastered all over school.”

  “Funny. Maybe you should get your eyes checked.”

  “Eh,” she says, shrugging. “I think my eyes are just fine. I mean, I do have the hottest boyfriend in school.”

  I can’t help but smile. “You think I’m hot?”

  She scoffs. “As if you don’t know.”

  I shrug.

  “Connor! Have your exes never told you?”

  Another shrug. “I don’t have any exes.”

  “Shut up!”

  “I don’t,” I laugh out. “You’re my first, Ava.”

  “First girlfriend?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “But you’ve, like, kissed girls before?”

  “Yeah,” I nod. “I touched the side of a boob once, too.”

  “Connor!” she squeals, laughing. She pushes my side, and I straighten the steering wheel. “Ew. I don’t want to know that!”

  I settle my hand on her leg and gather the courage to ease into the next question. “So, I was thinking… maybe… if you wanted to… you could come to the pep rally today.”

  She tenses beneath my touch, then whispers my name.

  “I know it’s not really your thing,” I tell her, doing my best to mask my disappointment. “But I just thought I’d ask. It’d be nice if you were there to support me, but it’s cool.”

  “I would if I could,” she says quietly.

  I glance at her. “So why can’t you?”

  She sucks in a breath and then exhales slowly. But she doesn’t answer my question. In fact, she doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the drive.

  I stand between Coach Sykes and Rhys while the school band plays, and the rest of the students are chanting Wildcats! Wildcats! Wildcats! The team has been doing well, amping up the school spirit, and I wish I could join them in their hysteria, but I’m too busy looking at the entrance, my hopes rising and dying every time the sliding doors open and it isn’t Ava. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the amount of support she’s shown, and I understand why she can’t go to the games, but this—this is in school—the few hours a day when we actually exist in the same space.

  The band finishes their performance, and one of the AV guys appears out of nowhere to hand Coach a microphone. “Thanks for that. What a great intro!” There’s a sarcasm in his tone that’s readily forgiven because he’s old and cantankerous, but he’s a staple in the school and the reason why the program runs so well.

  He starts going through the team’s roster for tonight’s game, calling names one after the other, waiting a few seconds for the cheers after each one. Then he gets to my name, and the screams are loud, louder than with Rhys, but beneath all those screams I hear a single sound that has my heart racing, my lips lifting. “Boo!”

  My eyes dart everywhere, looking for the sound, and then I spot her. She’s standing in front of the students milling by the entrance, and she must’ve forced her way through because she wasn’t there only seconds ago. I thought it would be impossible for my grin to widen, but here I am. I raise my hand, a small wave, and she does the same, a proud smile playing on her lips.

  The rally’s over as soon as Coach is done talking. I start to make my way over to her, but Coach stops me with his hand on my chest. “One minute, Ledger,” he says, and I look at Ava and mouth, “Hang on.” She nods, points to the
cafeteria line. She gets to the end of the line and picks up a tray. I don’t know how long it’s been since she’s had cafeteria food, but boy, is she in for a treat.

  “Ledger,” Coach says again, and I turn away, give him all my attention.

  “Yeah, Coach?”

  Rhys is next to him, wearing a shit-eating grin.

  I start to panic.

  “Rhys and I got to talking,” Coach starts. “And we were wondering if you’d be interested in co-captaining for the rest of the season?”

  My jaw drops as I look between them. “Are you serious?”

  Rhys shrugs. “It’ll look good on your college applications.”

  “Yeah.” I nod incessantly. “Hell, yeah. Thank you.”

  Coach offers me his hand, and I shake it, unable to hide my elation. The cafeteria breaks out into small giggles, and then all-out laughter. I’m still holding his hand when I turn around to see Ava at the start of the line, her tray of food held at her waist. In front of her, a punk kid has his arm pulled out of the sleeve, his long hair flipped to one side, covering half his face. He’s talking to her—no, he’s shouting noises at her, and then he’s swaying his body, using his armless sleeve to knock the food off her tray, his shouts getting louder, and I see red.

  Red.

  Hot.

  Rage.

  I release Coach’s hand and start toward him, but Coach and Rhys are both holding me back. “I’ll take care of him,” Coach says.

  “Calm down,” Rhys tells me, as if I can. As if it’s possible. And then I look at Ava. At the way her lips part, the way her eyes are wide open but filled with tears, as if she refuses to blink because if she does, her tears will fall and she doesn’t want to give this asshole the satisfaction. Slowly, she places the tray back on the rail and turns, the crowd around her parting as she walks away. People are still laughing and my heart… my heart is sinking.