by McLean, Jay
“Are you going to talk to her?” Dad asks.
I shake my head as I make my way up our driveway. “She made it pretty clear that she wasn’t really interested in talking to me much these days.”
Dad mumbles, “It’s hard to know what women want.”
“Tell me about it,” I murmur.
He opens the front door, then takes the bags out of my hands. “Talk to her, Connor. If not for her, then for you. You can’t be in this miserable limbo forever.”
Ava’s lying across the bench when I make it to her porch. Her eyes are closed, her fingers laced and resting on her stomach. I start to leave, my nerves getting the best of me, but stop when I see a hint of a smile play on her lips. “Such a creep,” she murmurs, her eyes snapping open. She sits up, takes out the earphone, and pats the spot beside her. “How was your flight?”
I sit down next to her. “It was fine. Look, I just came to apologize in person. And I guess… to get some clarity on what I can and can’t do when it comes to you. I mean, are we no contact or…?”
Ava’s quiet a beat before releasing a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Connor. I think it’s going to be hard on both of us to navigate what we do from here. This isn’t easy for me, either. And you act like I’m holding all the cards, but I’m not. And it’s not like I don’t miss you. I do. I still jump when my phone goes off because I’m so used to it being you, but… we can’t…”
Turning to her, I see the sincerity in her eyes. I don’t know how to respond to what she’s saying, so I don’t. Instead, I ask, “Where’s Peter?”
“Inside. He has some work to do.”
I motion to her sweatshirt. “That’s a nice hoodie you’re wearing. A little big, though.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’ve seen the size of Trevor, right?”
“It’s Trevor’s?” I ask. “Not Peter’s?”
Ava shakes her head, her gaze locked on mine. “Why would it be his?”
“I don’t know.” I look down at my hands, crack my knuckles. “He’s staying with you and—”
“And you think I’m sleeping with him?”
Another shrug. “Mitch said—”
“Mitch is a shit-for-brains, Connor. Don’t listen to him.”
I push down the knot in my throat. “So you’re not…?”
“If I were going to make something work with anyone, it would be—” She breaks off on a sigh, then shakes her head as if clearing her thoughts.
I sit up higher and say, “Can we just talk? I won’t bring up us. I just want to hang with you for a bit.”
“Sure.” She smiles, but it’s sad. “I didn’t know your dad was going with you.”
“Yeah,” I sigh out. “He wasn’t going to go, but then I started thinking about it. I’d never flown before, and the idea of being at an airport… I don’t know. I had this whole stupid panic attack over it, which is dumb because—”
“It’s not dumb,” she interrupts, pouting.
I shrug. “It’s incredibly emasculating to have to ask your daddy to fly with you because you can’t get over your fucking childhood trauma, you know?”
She stares at me a moment, then lowers her gaze. “I think it’s incredibly brave you went at all,” she says quietly.
I rub my temples, a tension headache building. “How’s your mom?”
Ava heaves out a sigh, her frown all-consuming. “They’ve got her on so many meds, she’s not even my mom anymore. She’s barely human. I hate it so much.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ava shrugs. “Krystal’s been here during the break, so I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands.” She pats the bench we’re sitting on. “I got this.”
“I noticed.”
“And—” she holds up a baby monitor I hadn’t seen yet “—I got this for Mom’s room. It’s… wait for it… money.”
A low chuckle builds in my chest, and I look ahead when I say, “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?” That’s when I spot a dark car cruising down the street, slowly, no headlights on. “What the hell is this?”
She peers up, sees what I’m seeing. “I don’t know,” she mumbles.
I get to my feet.
She does the same.
The car turns at the end of the cul-de-sac and slows even more as it starts to pass. I step in front of Ava. “Get down!”
“What?”
I shove her behind me, my eyes narrowed, trying to focus. The back window lowers, and a gun barrel—“Fuck!” I turn, push Ava to the ground and cover her completely. My ears fill with Ava’s screams as shot after shot is fired, some hitting the house, some on my back. I hold on to her as she tries to scramble free, crying my name. Tires screech and then silence descends. Heart racing, breaths hot and heavy against the cool night air, I check that they’re gone before releasing her. Her eyes wide, mouth agape, she stares up at me, unblinking. I swallow, flick the fucking paint off my arm. “It was just a paintball gun,” I breathe out.
Ava’s shaking her head, her breaths jagged. “Connor.” My gaze locks on hers. Her eyes are wild. “There was no way you could’ve known that was just a paintball gun.”
My pulse beats wildly in my chest, but I try to stay calm. For her. I wipe at the paint on the bench, adrenaline tightening my airways. “It should clean up easily.”
“Leave it. It doesn’t matter.” Ava’s throat moves with her swallow as her eyes fill with tears. Anger mars her features when she says, “It’s the third time this week someone’s messed with the house. Sometimes I wish I could just set this whole fucking place on fire and leave and never look back.” She takes a calming breath. Two. Then she looks up at me, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Nothing good has come of this place, Connor. There was you. And now there’s nothing.”
I grasp her face in my hands, my eyes soaking in her heartache. “I’m still here,” I breathe out.
She grabs on to my jacket, her eyes drifting shut. A heartbeat passes, strong and sure. I lower my mouth, at the same time her front door opens.
“What the hell happened?” Peter asks.
I don’t turn to him. I keep my eyes on Ava as she blinks. Blinks. Blinks.
“Fuck,” Peter spits. “Get inside, Ava.”
My silence begs her to stay.
But her reality forces her to leave.
Ava
“What the hell happened?” Peter whispers, dragging me to my room.
Still in shock, I stare up at him.
His eyes don’t stop moving as he takes me in, his hand on my arm squeezing. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
“No,” I whisper. “Connor…”
“Connor what?”
I try to breathe, try to calm the hell down. “Connor threw me on the ground and covered me… but he wouldn’t have known it wasn’t a real…”
“Jesus Christ, Ava,” he murmurs, slumping down on the edge of my bed. “Your boy’s an idiot.”
“What?” I huff out.
Peter laughs. “He’s willing to take bullets for a girl he’s not even dating.”
Peter’s words pierce a hole through my chest, and I struggle to stay standing. Struggle to breathe. I sit down next to him, my gaze lowered, hand on my stomach to ease the ache.
Peter throws his arm around my neck, bringing me to him. He adds, scoffing, “The kid’s NBA bound, and he just risked his life for what? For you?” Bile rises to my throat. “No offense, Ava, but Trevor’s already given up his life for you. You don’t want another person doing the same. If you’re not into him, you need to make it clear. Because he’s clearly too dumb to figure it out for himself.”
My vision blurs.
“And why the hell do you still live in this shithole of a town with people who constantly abuse you? I don’t understand why you can’t just let me take care of you.”
Guilt swarms through my veins, heating and boiling to anger.
I slip on my shoes and march over to Connor’s house. I don’t go to his window. I go to his door.
<
br /> Knock twice.
He answers, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and nothing else. Welts have started to form where the paintballs had struck him, and I look up and into his eyes, my vision suddenly clear. “You’re an idiot!”
His spine straightens.
“You can’t be going around risking your life for me.”
He sighs. “It was just a paintball—”
“But you didn’t know that, did you?”
His lips press tight.
“Jesus, Connor! What were you thinking?”
With a slow head shake, his jaw clenches when he says, “I was thinking that I need to protect the person I love!”
My breath catches at his words, but guilt controls all of mine. “You can’t do that! We’re not…” I press a hand to my chest, settle the pounding beneath it. “We need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Skirting these lines. We can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep sending you mixed messages. Shit, you could’ve—”
“Ava,” he sighs out.
“We need a clean break,” I declare. Tears prick behind my eyes, and I blink them away, stand firm. “No more texting. No more talking. No more anything!”
His chest heaves with his breaths, and I can see the weight of his conflict bearing down on his shoulders. I lift my chin, determined.
Connor licks his lips, his gaze falling. “Is that what you want?”
No, it’s what you need.
He needs me out of his life.
For good.
“Yes.”
Nodding, he leans against the open doorframe. “Karen asked me to go to winter formal with her.”
I die on the inside.
On the outside, I stand my ground. “So go.”
He heaves out a breath. And then his eyes meet mine, clouded, as if his heartache has shattered all hope.
I look away.
Right before he closes the door on us.
Chapter 6
Ava
Baby monitor attached to the pocket of my sweatpants, I hold the ladder for Trevor while he searches the garage for the Christmas lights. We haven’t used them since we moved here, but Trevor’s on this kick, influenced by Amy, that we celebrate the holidays just like any other family.
“I’m sure we packed them in clear containers,” I tell him.
“No, I packed them in garbage bags.”
“No, I’m the one who packed them. I think I’d know.”
“You barely packed anything,” he mumbles.
“I did so.”
“Did not.”
“Did so.”
“Shut up, brat.”
“How are you twenty-two?”
“How are you your face?”
I bust out a laugh, and God, does it feel good. It’s been weeks since I’ve felt even a semblance of joy, and a part of me wonders if that’s the real reason why Trevor wants to suddenly pretend like Christmas is A Thing when we haven’t celebrated it once since Mom’s return.
“Found it!” he announces.
“Oh, look. A clear box,” I mock, taking it from him as he starts his descent. “Who would’ve thought?”
We’re making our way out of the garage when a stretch Hummer pulls up to the curb. “What’s that about?” Trevor asks.
“Winter formal,” I tell him, my heart sinking. It’s been impossible not to count the days along with the entire school, but while everyone else is excited about it, I’d been dreading it. And I definitely don’t want to be here to see it.
“Let’s go,” I tell Trevor at the same time the limo door opens. Karen hops out in a tight, red dress, followed by Rhys in a tux. Karen waits by the car while Rhys walks toward us.
“What’s good?” Rhys greets Trevor, doing some weird bro handshake that only bros do. Then he turns to me. “Say it.”
“Say what?” I ask.
“Tell me I look good.”
I scoff, roll my eyes.
He adds, “I have a date in the car, but I can fuck her off real quick if you want to replace her.”
Trevor chuckles.
I say, “Sure, give me five minutes to change.”
Rhys gives me his megawatt smile that has girls falling for him. Had me falling for him. His eyebrows rise. “I’ll wait.”
“Shut up.” I playfully kick his leg, my hands busy holding the lights.
“Just one picture,” Connor’s dad calls out, his steps fast as he tries to keep up with his son walking down their driveway.
“Dad, no!” Connor whines.
Karen laughs. “Give the man what he wants!”
I stare, fixated, my throat closing in when Connor stands in front of Karen. He’s in a perfectly fitted tux, his red tie matching her dress. Connor lifts a corsage between them, the same shade, as if they’d planned all this in advance. Then he takes her hand, places it on her wrist, and she brings that same hand up to rest on his chest: magic.
Pain blocks my airways, but I can’t look away. Not even when she rises to her toes, her lips pressed to his cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies. “You look nice.”
“Ava,” Trevor says, but his voice is distant. So far away. “Maybe we should go.”
“I’m okay,” I rush out, the words burning my throat.
“They’re just friends,” Rhys tries to convince me. But the way they turn to Connor’s dad, the way she holds his waist, the way he settles his hand on the small of her back… a lot can change in a few weeks.
Tears blur my vision.
Trevor says, “Ava, let’s go inside.”
“I’m okay,” I repeat. But I’m not. I’m so far from okay that okay is a fantasy. And I know I wanted this. For Connor to move on. For him to let his love live in someone else, but it doesn’t stop the ache.
“Rhys, let’s go!” Karen shouts, and I know that they’ll see me: this pathetic, lonely girl standing in sweats, hands tied up in false magic. And so I turn to Trevor and look into his eyes. Try to find the strength I need to keep from losing it. He stares down at me, pity laced in his expression. A frown tugs at his lips. Rhys kisses the top of my head. “I’ll see you later, A.”
I hear him leave, but I don’t respond. I keep looking at my big brother, searching for courage. Searching for hope. But there’s nothing there. “Ava…” he whispers.
And I release the first sob. “I’m not okay.”
“I know.”
I run into the house, discarding the lights by the front door, and go into my mother’s room. She’s fast asleep, but I crawl into her bed anyway.
I need her.
I need her so much. “I need you, Mama. Wake up.”
She doesn’t stir.
“Wake up!” I cry out. “I need to talk to you.” I shake her, my tears falling fast and free, my heartbreak flowing out in the sound of sobs. “Why can’t you just be my mom! I need my mom!”
“Ava!” Trevor’s standing beside the bed, trying to pull me away. “Let her sleep. You can’t be like this. Not with her.”
He grabs me by my waist and carries me to her door, dropping me back on my feet once we’re out of her room. I fall to the floor and cry into my hands. And I don’t stop. I can’t. I’ve worked myself up to the point of hysterics, and I’m breathless, the ache in my chest unbearable. “I want everything they have, and I can’t have it!” I break down. Fall apart. Release the emotions I’ve held on to for too long. My shoulders shake from the force of my cries.
Trevor leaves and returns with a paper bag. He squats down beside me and holds the bag out in front of my mouth, his hand forming the perfect O. “Come on, Ava. Breathe,” he whispers, bringing it to my lips. I take over his hand and do as he asks and cry harder when he holds me to him, stroking my hair. “I don’t know what to do here,” he says, his voice cracking. I try to settle my breathing, look up at him through liquid lashes. His eyes are red from holding back his own tears, his breaths short, harsh. His li
ps quiver when he adds, “I’m out of my depth here, Ava. And I don’t know what to do.” He exhales a long, shaky breath, his gaze darting to the side. “And I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Connor
We’re in the same gym the practices are held, and I’d rather be running suicides for an hour straight. The music is too loud, and the lights are too bright, and I don’t want to be here. “Do you want to dance?” Karen asks, sitting next to me.
“I don’t really dance,” I tell her. I’m a sucky date; I know this. And I should really make more of an effort. “I mean, I don’t really know how.”
“I can teach you,” she offers, and the smile she gives me only makes me feel worse.
“Maybe another time? I don’t really feel like embarrassing myself in front of everyone.”
“A private lesson.” She smirks. “I’m down.”
We sit in silence for another five minutes before I hear her loud sigh over the music.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“It’s okay.” She shrugs, and I can see the disappointment fleet across her features, see the genuine frown pull on her lips. She slumps in her chair, her hair curtaining her face, and I feel like the biggest dick in the history of the world.
“Hey,” I say, dragging the legs of her chair until she’s facing me. I lift her chin, finger a strand of hair away from her eyes. She looks up, sad, sad eyes on mine. And it’s not her fault that I am the way I am. Not even a little bit. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “It’s just… dances aren’t really my thing.”
She nods as if she knows me. And even though we’ve been spending more time together in the past few weeks since Ava crushed my soul, she doesn’t know me. Not the real me. Not like Ava knows me.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says, standing and taking my hand. I don’t know where we’re going, but anywhere is better than here, and so I follow blindly behind her as she leads me out of the gym and through the empty hallways.
