by McLean, Jay
After what my mom did to me, he cut all ties with Michael. He couldn’t deal with the reminder and the guilt of his actions, of his feelings. And he could never tell me—or anyone else—about his sexuality because of the fear Mom’s actions instilled in him.
For fifteen years they had no contact.
None.
Dad never saw anyone else during that time, and neither did Michael. Fifteen fucking years they were alone, and they were lonely, and all because of what my mother did to “hurt” him.
She tried to kill me… as revenge.
Bile sits in my throat the entire time he talks, not because of who is here with him or because he’s gay or because of anything he did, but because of her. Of how much pain her actions caused. And she wasn’t even around to witness it.
Coward.
According to Michael, he finally found the strength to reach out, and with the help of social media, he found me first and then Dad. At this point, Dad adds that the “old friend” he reconnected with that helped him see perspective when it came to my relationship with Ava—that was Michael. Michael, who reminded him that we don’t get to choose who we fall in love with, and the only way to love openly and love freely is to be supported by those who love us in return.
When they realized that their feelings for each other hadn’t changed, Michael moved from Florida to North Carolina to be with Dad.
In secret.
Again.
“That ends now,” I tell them both. “And, sure, it’s going to take me a while to get used to...”
“We understand,” says Dad.
I nod. “I just want you to be happy.”
“And what about you, Connor?”
“I’ll get there,” I say, confident.
Even if it takes me fifteen fucking years.
Chapter 40
Connor
It’s incredibly hard to make sense of the days post-Ava. I know I wake up every day and I go to school, and then I come home, and that’s pretty much all there is to my life. Dad sees my struggle, understands it, and he gives me the time and the space I need to grieve. Because that’s exactly what it feels like. Like waking up twice.
Now, I sit on my porch steps watching Trevor load his truck, his girlfriend, Amy, with him. It feels like forever ago when he was the one to watch me do the opposite. I rub my hands across my shorts, drop my head between my shoulders, because only now do I realize that I haven’t just lost the girl I love, or the only woman I ever considered close enough to be a mother, but I’m also losing a friend—the first friend I made when I got here.
Without another thought, I get to my feet and make my way over. The smile I carry is fake, but the words I say are not: “Is it weird if I tell you that I’m going to miss your dumbass?”
Trevor laughs once, shaking his head. Amy rubs his arm, tells him she’s going inside to make sure she’s got everything. Really, she’s giving us a moment alone, and I appreciate it. Trevor watches her leave before turning to me. “Not weird. You’ve kind of been a staple in my life the past few months. Sitting in my chair, eating my cookies…”
This time, my smile is genuine. “Listen, I know Ava’s blocked my number or whatever, but is it cool if—”
“You know my sister, man. She’s going to make me do the same.”
I nod. It’s true. And I hate that it is.
“It’s nothing against you, though,” he assures. “It’s just easier for her this way. She doesn’t need a reminder of everything she loved and left behind.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I mumble. “So, I guess this is goodbye…”
Trevor looks back at his house and then at me. He leans against his truck, his hands in his pockets. He inhales a breath as if preparing his speech. “I told you when we first met that I thought you had a good head on you, and the more I got to know you, the more I believed that you’re destined for great things.” He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. “Look, I don’t really know what happened between you and Ava, but I do know that you have good in you.” He peers up at me, pokes a finger at my chest, right above my heart. “In here, there’s good. I saw it in the way you treated my sister, in the way you treated Mama Jo. I just… I don’t want you to let what happened here take that away. Keep being good, Connor. And whatever happens, don’t lose sight of your end game, okay?”
I replay his words, let every single one of them sink into me. “Yeah,” I say with a nod. “I won’t.”
He pushes off his truck and offers his hand for a shake. I take it, then grunt when he gets me in a bear hug so tight, I find it hard to breathe. “Don’t go near the house tonight,” he whispers, his mouth right to my ear.
I pull back just so I can look in his eyes—eyes full of clarity.
It’s not a threat or even a suggestion…
It’s a warning.
It’s just after 1 a.m. when I hear the first pop, like a single spark in a bonfire. And then a whoosh. Seconds later, I smell it. The burn, the smoke.
I throw the covers off me and shrug on a T-shirt before going out to the sidewalk. I get there just in time to watch the curtains ignite and then get set ablaze. Leaning against my truck, I feel the heat across my face while my vision fills with shades of ambers and reds. Soon enough, the neighbors file out of their houses, joining me on the street as whispered gossip overpowers the shock of what’s happening.
In the distance, sirens sound.
And this is the part when I wake up for the second time.
To reality.
And that reality is my life.
It hurts more now than it ever did before, because I think, deep down, there was a part of me that believed she would come back. She’d change her mind, realize that leaving was a mistake, and she’d come back to me. But now… now she has nothing to come back to. And I… I wasn’t enough to come back for.
“Jesus Christ, Connor,” Dad says, rushing toward me, his face switching from blue to red caused by the lights of his ambulance. “Is Trevor in there?”
“No, he’s already gone.”
My eyes are glued to the house again, and I take in the fire in all its glory, watch as the roof starts to cave in, and then I remember…
I remember what she said the night we sat on her porch and a car drove by and fucking shot up the place with a paintball gun. I remember Ava’s screams, Ava’s tear-filled eyes when she looked up at me. And I remember what she said…
“Sometimes I wish I could just set this whole fucking place on fire and leave and never look back.”
“Jesus,” Dad says, “this is terrible for them.”
“No,” I murmur. “It’s kind of beautiful.”
Chapter 41
Connor
For weeks, the remnants of Ava’s house are taped off while the fire marshal investigates the cause of the fire. According to Dad, who shares a station with the fire department, they’re leaning toward an electrical fault. Apparently, multiple fires were started at around the same time in different areas of the house, which is how, even though the fire department got there fast, the fire was able to spread quickly, not leaving much of the house behind.
The whispers and the gossip have died down over the weeks. First, it was that Miss D came back in the middle of the night and threw a grenade through the window. Then it was how the ex-neighbor came back and torched the place assuming everyone was still living there. And then the ones about me—the pissed off ex-boyfriend who found out Ava was cheating on me with Peter, and then Trevor, and then Peter and Trevor.
This town, man… no wonder they wanted the fuck out of here.
* * *
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” asks Dad, flattening a map across the coffee table. He and Michael are here planning a cross-country road trip. They had initially planned to leave once I was all set up at Duke. I tried to convince them to leave as soon as they could, but they worried about me—both of them—and so we met in the middle. The day after I graduate, they’re taking an
RV and seeing the country until they make it back to Florida and start a new life, where they plan to live freely and openly in each other’s love.
So.
Do I want to go with them? Hell no.
Do I appreciate them asking? Definitely.
“I think I’m good,” I tell them. “I’ll just hang here until the lease is over, throw a few ragers, experiment with some heavy drugs, and get arrested.”
Dad grunts.
Michael chuckles. “Sounds like a decent plan to me.”
“Right?” I like Michael. He’s a good guy, and it’s pretty damn clear that my dad is smitten. And maybe it’s because I’d never actually witnessed Dad in relationships with either gender, but it didn’t take me long to get comfortable with seeing them together. Though, they do keep any displays of physical affection private, so that probably helps.
“Are you expecting someone?” Dad asks when headlights shine through our living room window.
I shake my head. “No. You?”
He shakes his head too.
We both look at Michael. “Nobody even knows me here,” he mumbles.
A car door slams shut, and then another, and I get to my feet, peer out the window. Rhys and Karen are marching up my porch steps. Well, Rhys is marching, and Karen’s running after him. I open the door just as Rhys raises his fist to knock.
“I’m sorry!” Karen rushes out. “He’s drunk, and he got in his stupid car, and I had to follow him to make sure he got here safe, but he’s on a war—”
“You drove drunk?” Dad interrupts.
But Rhys ignores him, too focused on me. Rage forms in his glare as he points a finger at my chest. “You motherfucker!”
“Whoa!” Michael stands. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry,” Karen says again.
But Rhys is too lit, too ready to lay it all out between us. “For years, I’ve stood by her side. I’ve been there for her through everything. Whenever she needed anything, she came to me.”
“This is about Ava?” I ask, confused.
Karen huffs out a breath. “Of course it’s about Ava!”
“And then you fucking come out of nowhere,” Rhys fumes, “and she chooses you! I’ve been on the sidelines waiting for her to—”
I lift a hand between us, shutting him up. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Shut up, Ledger!” he roars. “You go moping around school as if you’ve lost someone you’ve loved for years. You haven’t. I have!”
“Fuck you!” I try to slam the door in his face, but he kicks it back open.
“No, fuck you!” He throws the first punch, getting me square in the jaw.
I hold a hand there, waiting for the pulsing to settle down. But there’s no fight left in me to retaliate.
Rhys squares his shoulders. “Fight me, you pussy!”
I shake my head, adjust my jaw. “No.”
“Rhys, you need to leave!” Dad orders.
But Rhys ignores him and charges at me, his shoulder hitting my stomach until my back lands on the floor. Karen’s screaming; Dad’s yelling. And I try to push Rhys off me, but he’s too fucking outraged, and now we’re rolling on the fucking floor, knocking over the coffee table. Water spills on the carpet, and Michael’s trying to lift Rhys by his waist. Another blow to my gut, and blood pools in my throat, on my tongue. I cough it up, shielding another blow with my forearms.
“She was mine!” Rhys shouts.
“She chose me!” I grunt, finding the strength to throw him off me. I get to my feet, look down at him, wondering where the fuck all this came from. How long has he been hiding these feelings? Through staggered breaths, I yell, “She chose me, okay? And I don’t know why the fuck she did!”
Rhys sits up now, his head tilted back to look up at me.
“Don’t you think I question that every fucking day she’s gone! That maybe I was the reason? That I pushed her to leave?” My chest aches from every physical blow, every verbal admission. “She was fine!” I seethe, my voice cracking with emotion. “When I met her, she was… she was fine, and I—”
“Don’t, Connor!” Karen cuts in. “Don’t let Rhys’s drunk ass convince you that your relationship was anything less than it was. You loved that girl with everything you had, and she—she worshipped the ground you walked on.”
Rhys’s heavy breaths fill the momentary silence.
She adds, “Rhys is just looking for someone to blame; that’s all this is.”
I glance down at Rhys, catch the moment his eyes drift shut.
“And if he really loved her the way he’s acting like he does, then he wouldn’t have gone around screwing anything with spreadable legs for the past three years.”
Michael gasps. “Is this how kids talk these days?” he asks Dad.
Dad runs a hand down his face.
I squat down in front of Rhys, wipe the blood off my lip. “You’re allowed to miss her,” I mumble. “But I can’t fix this. I can’t turn back time and be better to her.”
“Jesus Christ,” Karen sighs out, flopping down on the couch. “You dipshits ever consider that none of this has anything to do with either of you or your giant egos?”
“Girl, preach!” Dad mumbles, handing me a dish towel to wipe off the blood.
“If anyone should be hurting, it should be me,” Karen continues. “You’re both sitting there all boohoo, poor me. She was my best friend. You want to talk about who’s known her the longest? We’ve been friends since kindergarten! And you want to compare who’s been there for her the most?” she asks, and I can hear it in her voice… hear the toughness she carries around with her begin to weaken, begin to fade. “That would be me, you assholes! I was there for her when her mom first deployed, and whenever there was something on the news about the war, and she’d get scared, she’d call me!” She’s crying now, tears are flowing, but still—she holds her head high, her words steady even when her voice isn’t. “And some fucking friends you are, because I’ve been holding both your hands ever since she left, and neither of you—not once—has ever asked if I’m okay. And I’m not, just so you know. I’m not fucking okay… because she was my best friend.”
Silence falls, and so does my heart.
“I’m sorry,” Rhys mumbles. His eyes shift from Karen to me. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
I sit down next to Karen, throw my arm around her shoulders. “I’m a sucky friend,” I admit, kissing the top of her head. “We both are.”
Karen nods. “I hate you both and hope you catch chlamydia.”
Rhys laughs once. “We’d deserve it.”
“No shit,” she retorts.
Dad sighs. “I’m so confused.”
Michael rubs his hands together. “Can I fix you guys something to eat or drink?”
Rhys shrugs, then starts replacing the coffee table to its original position. “I could eat.”
Karen scoffs. “When are you not eating?”
Rhys settles on the other couch while Dad and Michael move to the kitchen. “Is that a friend of your dad’s?” he asks, his voice low.
I shake my head. “That’s Michael, Dad’s boyfriend.”
Rhys’s jaw hits the floor. Next to me, Karen gasps. “Your dad’s gay?” she whisper-yells. “How did I not know this?”
“I only just found out, but don’t make a thing of it okay?”
“He’s kind of cute,” Karen whispers.
Rhys asks, “Who? Mr. Ledger?”
“Well, yeah, him too.”
“Don’t make this more awkward,” I mumble.
Dad and Michael return with a tray of drinks and some chips. Michael hands a glass to Rhys, and Rhys says with a toothy grin, “Thanks, Mrs. Mr. Ledger.”
I sigh.
Karen says, “I swear to God, Rhys, the shit that comes out of your mouth…”
Rhys chuckles. “No girl’s ever complained about my mouth before.”
“Why do you—”
A knock on the door interrupts Kare
n’s speech.
Dad shakes his head. “If this is another one of your friends here to throw punches, I’m pulling you out of school and wrapping you in bubble wrap.”
I get up and open the door. Just a tad. You know, in case it is someone ready to throw blows.
Mitch stands on my porch, his hands in his pockets. He’s never been to my house before, at least not that I know of. “What’s up?”
“Hey.” He tries to peer into the house, but I step out and pull it closed behind me. I leave it ajar, still wary of his purpose. “You got a second to talk?”
Confusion blurs my senses. “About?”
His throat bobs with his swallow before his gaze drops. “It’s just… uh… about Ava and—”
“What about Ava?” I cut in.
He sucks in a breath, holds it, then releases with force. Shaking his head, he looks up at me, his eyes tired. “Look, I shouldn’t—I mean, I didn’t want...”
I stand taller, alarm hammering in my ribcage. “Just spit it out, man.”
His lips part, but nothing comes out, and I raise my eyebrows. Wait. “I uh... it was me…”
“The fire?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. Not the fire, but kind of. I guess I had something to do with that, too. And I feel guilty about that, but…”
“Jesus, man, just say it.”
He untucks his hands from his pockets, fists them at his sides. “You ever notice how all of the bad shit that happened to Ava’s house happened when Peter Parker was around?”
My eyes widen, and I take a moment to think back. He’s right. Apprehensive, I nod, wait for him to continue while a knot forms in my stomach.
“He paid me to do that shit.”
I dip my head, lean my ear closer to him because I can’t be hearing this right. There’s no fucking way. “What?”
