Heartache and Hope: Heartache Duet Book One

by Jay McLean

  He shrugs. “I lost my phone.”

  My eyes widen. “What do you mean you lost your phone?”

  “I mean,” he says, looking down his nose at me, “I misplaced it. I don’t know where it is.”

  “I know the definition of lost, Connor. You don’t need to berate me.”

  “I’m not,” he sighs out. His eyes drift shut, his shoulders lifting with his heavy inhale. When he opens his eyes again, he says, “Look, I just spent the entire morning running suicides because Coach thinks it’s funny to punish a bunch of hungover kids, and so—”

  “You’re hungover?” I cut in.

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m just really fucking exhausted. I’ve been pushing myself too far for too long, plus the constant lack of sleep—especially last night—and… everyone has their limits, Ava.” His gaze bores into mine. “And I think I’m at my peak.”

  A stillness passes between us, seconds feel like hours, and we do nothing but stare at each other, like we’re both searching for something that’s no longer there. I look away when I feel the heat burning behind my eyes.

  Connor pushes off his locker, his hand reaching up, and I close my eyes, wait for the moment his hand cups my jaw or his finger traces my forehead when he shifts the loose strands away… but nothing comes.

  “Thank you,” he breathes out, and my eyes snap open as I see him grasp the phone someone’s holding up between us. I follow the arm to the person next to me: Karen.

  “Where the hell was it?” he asks her.

  “You left it in my car, stupid.”

  Connor chuckles. “No, you.”

  Karen faces me. “Hey, Ava.”

  All I can do is stand there, fighting back the hurt, the betrayal. I know she’s watching me, they both are, and there’s no justified reaction to match what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking.

  I bet she has no idea what he gets up to when she’s not around.

  I look back at Connor, willing the tears away. “I’ll see you in class.”

  Connor and I say nothing to each other as we sit together in psych class. There’s no hand on my leg, no witty banter.

  There’s just him.

  And me.

  In two very different worlds.

  I grasp on to my textbook as I stare ahead, hearing but not listening to everything going on around me. The class phone rings, and Mr. McCallister pauses his speech to answer it. Back turned to the class, the conversation in the room picks up.

  “Psst!” Rhys hisses, kicking the back of Connor’s chair. “Where the hell did you disappear to last night?”

  Connor shrugs but doesn’t say anything.

  I keep my eyes forward, watching as Mr. McCallister turns to the class, phone still to his ear, and then his gaze locks on me. He’s nodding, his lips pulled down in a frown. My chest rises with my shaky inhale, and I sit up higher, my life source pumping rapidly as he hangs up, starts moving toward me. The world around me is silent, bar his heavy footsteps as he closes in.

  I shudder an exhale.

  And then Connor’s hand finds mine on the desk, linking our fingers together.

  Mr. McCallister squats down to my level. “Ava, sweetheart, have you got your phone on you?”

  I pull it out of my pocket. The battery’s dead because I hadn’t charged it overnight. I spent the entire night walking the streets aimlessly, and I hadn’t been home except to change into my uniform. I didn’t plan on staying. I just came here for Connor…

  “It’s um… it’s…” I drop the phone on the desk and look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re needed at home.”

  “Okay,” I breathe out, feeling the first panic-induced tear slide down my cheek. I swipe it away. “Can I use the phone to call a cab?”

  Mr. McCallister eyes Connor, and Connor says, “I don’t have my car here.”

  Rhys speaks up. “I’ll take you, A.”

  Connor

  I’d been dreading seeing Ava all morning. When I saw her at my locker, I stood firm. I wanted her to know that she’d hurt me and that I was pissed, and I wasn’t going to back down. The past few times we’d been together, I’d needed her, and she hadn’t even been present enough to listen to what I was saying.

  But when Mr. McCallister started to approach her in psych, I felt her fear, and I realized that I had no idea what had been going on with her. Not really. And it’s not that I don’t ask, but she never opens up about it. She never fully lets me in. Never tells me anything.

  During lunch, I ask Rhys to take me to his house so I can pick up my car. He has no idea why Ava had to go home. He said that she’d been silent on the drive there and he didn’t want to push her.

  I send her a text, hope she’s had time to charge her phone.

  Connor: Is everything okay?

  Ava: Yes.

  I know I should head back to school, but once I’m in my car, the only place I can think to go is Ava’s.

  I stand on her lawn and send her another message.

  Connor: Any chance you can come out for five? I think we need to talk.

  The curtains part on Ava’s front window, and a second later, she’s stepping out and sitting on her porch steps.

  I sit next to her, my heart heavy, mind clouded with confusion. I swallow my nerves. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, there was just no one available to watch her today,” she says, her tone flat, her gaze distant.

  I heave out a breath, keep my eyes on her. And I know it’s not the right time or place, but I can’t keep doing this. Going around and around like we are. “What’s going on with us, A?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, her gaze trailing to mine. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Karen?”

  “When?” I snap. “When would I have told you about it exactly?”

  “I don’t know,” she deadpans. “This morning when I was standing right in front of you.” She huffs out a breath. “What happened last night, Connor?”

  I run a hand through my hair, tug at the ends. This isn’t the conversation I was looking for. “With what, exactly? Me choking in the last five seconds of the game or you sending me a message proving you don’t care?” There’s a hint of anger in my tone that I didn’t plan on being there.

  “I tried,” she whispers. “I watched the entire tournament and then my mom…” Her voice cracks and she sits higher, squares her shoulders. “What happened after the game?”

  I sigh. “We went back to Rhys’s, and we drank, and some of the guys couldn’t drive, so Karen gave us rides home. That’s why my phone was in her car.” I don’t know why I lie, and it’s the first time I’ve ever done it, but none of this matters. That’s not why we’re here.

  She’s silent a breath, her eyes lowering. “What time did you get home?”

  I shake my head, curbing my frustration in my fists. “I don’t know. Like, midnight?” I know it was later than that. Much later. But I don’t need her focusing on that because, again, it’s irrelevant, and so I tell her that. “It doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do last night, and Karen’s not the problem. The problem is between us, A. You and me.”

  “Stop calling me A,” she grinds out. “Only Rhys calls me that.”

  “Yeah?” I snort. “Was that before or after you fucked him?”

  “Connor!”

  I ignore her and keep at it, getting everything off my chest. “And while we’re on the topic of not telling each other things, why is it that everything I know about you, I hear from other people?”

  Her eyes snap to mine. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I count off each point on my fingers. “I find out about your mom through my dad. Then I find out about you and Rhys through Rhys. That your mom was a POW through Trevor. And even Peter fucking Parker seems to think it’s—”

  “My mom was a what?” she cuts in, her voice low, shaky.

  Fuc
k. Everything inside me hardens, and I look up to see her watching me, her eyes brimming with tears, her bottom lip trembling.

  My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

  “Connor?” she cries, begging for answers. “Was my mom… was she…?

  “No, Ava, she—”

  “Tell me the truth!”

  “Fuck,” I spit, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes. “Fuck, Ava, I wasn’t supposed—”

  Her sob forces a sharp inhale as she stares at me, her mouth agape. “Why would you keep that from me!” And then she breaks, her shoulders shaking. Those small hands I fell in love with cover her entire face, and she’s crying, the loudest, most unconfined cry I’ve ever witnessed from her, and all the broken pieces of my heart fight for unity again because I remember everything about her, about us, everything I love. I fell in love with her vulnerability as much as I fell for her strength and “I’m sorry, Ava.” I sniff back my own tears, watching her shatter in front of me. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

  I try to reach for her, to hold her, to show her the magic… but she pushes me away. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She’s on her feet and heading for her door, and I try to grasp on to her, but she’s too… everything. She’s too determined and too angry and too… too damaged. She slams the door between us, and I don’t give up. Can’t.

  I turn the knob and push, but nothing happens. “Ava, please,” I beg, my forehead against the door. “I’m sorry.”

  I don’t bother going back to school, telling Dad that I’m not feeling well, so he excuses me from classes for the rest of the day. I spend the time in my room, my phone to my ear, calling, calling, calling. My thumbs move faster than ever as I write out text after text after goddamn text, each one going unanswered. I stand at her door four fucking times with my fist raised ready to knock, but stop myself, knowing it could make things worse.

  When the world around me turns dark and all hope is gone, I try calling her again. This time, she answers. But it’s not her on the other end of the line. It’s Trevor. “Stop fucking calling, Connor. You’ve done enough.”

  I stare down at my phone once he’s hung up, anger and fear and disappointment hitting me in waves. Then I notice the voicemail icon and hope spikes in my heart. Maybe she’s tried calling at the same time I have, and maybe Trevor’s taken her phone because he’s angrier at me than she is…

  I hit play on the voicemail, listen to the intro timestamped 2:27 am. “Hey, Connor. It’s me… It’s umm… it’s 2:30 in the morning and I’m at your window but… but I don’t think you’re home and I’m not really sure where you are... I just… I wanted to say sorry about my message. I watched the entire tournament and then with five minutes left in the final, my mom... she broke our TV… deliberately, and God, Connor, I got so angry with her. I yelled at her like I’ve never done before. And I… I’m just having a really shitty time at the moment. And I know that you are, too, and that’s more important right now, so I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you like you’ve always been there for me, and I know that you’re probably sick of hearing me apologize but… I don’t know. I just thought… I thought maybe we could spend the night together, or at least a couple of hours. Because um… because I love you, Connor. I just love you… so much.”

  I throw my phone across the room, watch it fracture. And just like Ava before me, I break. As if I’ve reached my boiling point and the pressure’s too much, and I explode. Erupt. Detonate. “Fuck!” I shout. My fist flies, goes through the drywall. Again, and again. And then my dad appears, his eyes wide, and I fall to the floor, my head in my hands. “Jesus Christ, Connor,” he whispers, dropping to his knees in front of me. He grasps my hand in his, shifting the blood pooling at my knuckles. “What the hell are you thinking?” He inspects my hand closer, his eyes wide when he looks up at me. “This is your shooting hand.”

  Chapter 49

  Connor

  I don’t see Ava at school the next day, not that I expected to. But I see her the day after, in psych, walking through the door. I sit higher in my seat and hide my bandaged hand under the table. I need to talk to her, to apologize. I’ve planned out everything I want to say. I need to tell her how sorry I am for the way I’d been acting, that it was never about her, and that it was all on me. That the pressure became too much, and I took it out on her. And I need to tell her that I love her, that I never stopped loving her, not even for a second.

  But she doesn’t look at me when she walks in. Instead, she goes to Karen, her mouth moving, but I’m too far away to hear what she’s saying. Karen turns to me, her eyes sad, and then back to Ava. She nods, stands, and gives Ava her seat.

  My heart sinks, and I look down at the table as Karen settles in beside me. “I’m sorry, Connor,” she whispers. “I couldn’t say no to her.”

  The day is a blur, and I can’t focus on anything. Not even basketball. After-school practice is a shitshow, and my injured hand only elevates my piss-poor performance. “It looks like it’s healing well,” one of the trainers says, inspecting my hand after practice.

  “My dad’s a paramedic,” I mumble. “He made sure it was taken care of. Trust me, no one wants it to heal as fast as he does.”

  “Where the hell is my deodorant?” Oscar says from behind me. He’s opening and closing lockers, searching.

  “Just use mine,” Rhys offers.

  “I have sensitive skin, bruh.”

  “Check your car,” says Rhys.

  Oscar sings, “You’re not just a pretty face, co-cap.”

  I watch the trainer wrap my hand again. “Your dad think it’ll be good to go by the invitational?”

  I nod. “It’s just a minor sprain. No fractures.”

  “Good. Want to tell me how it happened?”

  “Not really.”

  “Connor,” Oscar says, his hand on my shoulder. “Your girl’s out in the parking lot.”

  My brow lifts when I look up at him.

  He shrugs. “She ain’t waitin’ on me.”

  Ava pushes off my car when she sees me approaching, her arms going around her waist. A few spots over, Trevor’s in his truck, his eyes on me. Heavy-hearted, I motion toward him. “You bring a bodyguard?”

  Ava’s looking down at the ground when my gaze moves back to her. “He’s just waiting to give me a ride home.” Then she notices my hand, and hers reaches across, taking my wrist in her grasp. “What happened?”

  I lower my hand so my fingers graze hers, taking hold of them. I say, my voice weak, “A wall came at me. I had to protect myself.”

  She looks up now, her eyes clouded. I squeeze the ends of her fingers, and it’s as if she just realized I was holding on to her. She yanks out of my hold, hiding her hands in the pockets of her blazer. My throat closes in, my stomach twisting. Through narrow airways, I let out a breath and say, “I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you. There’s a lot I need to say.”

  “Me too,” she rushes out. “And I need to go first so that I don’t…” she trails off, and I nod, my eyes on hers, my entire everything drawn to her.

  She glances at Trevor, as if needing the courage, then back at me. “When we first started this, I warned you that nothing good can come of it. That there’d be no happy ending to our story…”

  “Don’t, Ava,” I plead. “You’re talking as if it’s over.”

  “It is over, Connor.”

  I laugh once, incredulous, and look past her. “So I make one mistake, and that’s it? You’re done?”

  “You didn’t make any mistakes,” she sighs out. “But we never should’ve started anything to begin with. We were so selfish to think that it would work.” She pauses a beat, her voice dropping when she adds, “I wasn’t made for this.”

  “For what? To be with me?”

  “No.” She takes a step toward me. Just one. But keeps her eyes downcast. “I wasn’t made with the strength to do it all. Taking care of my mom is as much as I can do, and even then, I’m already spread so thin. Y
ou told me the other day that you were at your limit, and I think I passed that point a long time ago, Connor. I can’t be trying to take care of her and trying to be focused on you and being insecure about us all at the same time.”

  I kick off my car, take one step forward and retake her hand. “You don’t have to be insecure about us,” I plead. “Nothing happened with Karen. I swear it, Ava.”

  Her eyes lift, lock on mine. “Then why did you lie?”

  “About what?” I ask, even though I already know. So does my heart, because it’s trembling in my ribcage.

  “You’re the only one who left with her. And you weren’t home at midnight, Connor, because I was banging on your window—” Her voice wavers and she clears her throat. “If nothing happened,” she says, tears welling in her eyes, “then why lie to me?”

  I shake my head, sniff back the burn behind my nose, and look down at the ground, shame forcing my shoulders to drop. “Because I didn’t want you to worry,” I admit. “Clearly, I had my priorities wrong.” I swallow the knot in my throat and peer up at her again. “But this isn’t your reason is it, Ava? It’s your excuse.”

  Her sob has me looking up, watching her wipe at her eyes frantically. “It’s too hard,” she cries out, her entire presence shrinking with defeat. “I can’t…” The weight of her cries halts her words, and I exhale, wait for her to finish. “I can’t be the person I want to be when I’m with you. I can’t forget that… that my mom needs me more than I need you. And I did that. For one split second, I forgot. Because I love you, Connor. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you…” She falls into me, her arms going around me, holding tight. “But I can’t be with you.”

  I take in her words, breathe them into me. “You were my end game,” I whisper, knowing she can’t hear me through her cries. I wipe the wetness off my cheeks against her hair and clutch her head to my chest, her ear to my life source.