by McLean, Jay
“Try me.”
I make quick work of the dinner prep while I tell him everything that’s happened with my mom over the past year. He listens intently to every single word, barely ever taking his eyes off me. He asks questions, lots of them, and by the end, his eyes are wide. “So, everything fell into place, huh?” he asks, repeating the words I’d used when I told him I was leaving.
After sliding the tray into the oven, I turn to him, nod. “I mean, in a roundabout way, yeah. It did.”
“And Trevor?” he asks. “How is he?
I start clearing the counter to season the steaks I’d gotten us. “Good. He’s still a dick,” I joke, and he laughs at that. “He re-enrolled at Texas A&M, and he’s living with Amy off-campus. Oh, and remember that—”
“I remember everything, Ava.”
I can’t control the ticking at the corner of my lips. “Um… that conversation you had with him about being an agent?”
Connor nods.
“So, that’s what he wants to do now.”
“Really? That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, it is,” I say, my voice suddenly cracking with the emotions I’ve held on to for too long. Feelings I’ve tried so hard to suppress.
Connor, the boy I met in high school, the boy I fell recklessly in love with, is sitting in my apartment, mere feet away, and he has no idea the impact he’s had on me and my family. None. He’d entered out of nowhere and left footprints wherever he roamed, and our lives are forever changed because of him. And I don’t know how to tell him that. How to portray how much his presence in my life has meant to all of us. I realize now, deep down, that it might be the reason I invited him here. Why I offered to cook for him: a small token of appreciation in a vast ocean of what Trevor refers to as Good. I’m staring, I know I am, but I can’t seem to shake it. I blink back the sudden heat behind my eyes and push down the ache in my throat. “What about you?” I manage to ask. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s good, Ava,” he says, his voice low as he pins me with his gaze.
Now I look away because everything is too much. Too soon. And too real. “Is he still living at that house?”
“No, he left after I graduated. I stayed until the lease was over… though for a while I did consider burning the place down.”
My eyes snap to his.
He adds, “It’s weird, right? An electrical fault when Trevor’s an electrician…”
My lips curve while I force out a sigh. “The insurance money sure came in handy,” I murmur.
“Oh, yeah?”
I push the steaks aside and move on to the salad. Without looking up, I tell him the truth, “We needed an immediate solution, and Peter helped with that side—”
“Peter,” he spits.
I glance up. “Why do you say his name like that?”
“Because I don’t like the guy,” he grinds out, his hands fisted on the countertop.
I wait a second to see if he’ll add any more, and when he doesn’t, I say, “Anyway, the insurance money helped with getting Mom’s placement and getting Trevor and me on our feet.”
He nods, slow. “So, you owe nothing to Peter?”
“Not a cent.”
“But your pride, right?”
“Not even that.”
“Good.”
I drop the knife, drop my pretenses, and shift on my feet. “Why are you so…”
“So what?”
“Your jaw’s all tense, and your face is red, and your fists are all punchy.” I slide the knife away from him. “And a little stabby.”
He chuckles under his breath. “I just don’t like the guy, Ava.”
“So you’ve said.”
Connor stays silent.
I sigh. “You know, secrets ruined us before, Connor, and I’m not saying that you and I are an us, but I’d like to… I don’t know… be friends?”
He laughs once. Bitter. “You want the truth?”
I nod.
Eyes set on mine, intense, he says, “I don’t want to be friends with you, Ava. I told you that once, and nothing has changed.”
I drop my gaze, my hand floating to my stomach to settle the butterflies there.
He clears his throat. “You know, Peter paid Mitch to do all that shit to your house. The paintballs and the BB gun and… all of it, Ava… it was all Peter.”
I gasp, shocked, my chest burning with anger. “That motherfucker!” I exclaim, shaking my head. “Good thing Trevor beat the shit out of him.”
Connor’s face lights up. “What?”
With a nod, I throw it all out there: “For a while, he’d been offering to”—I air quote—“take care of me.”
An indescribable sound leaves Connor’s lips.
I add, “I don’t know when he started looking at me differently, but he did, and it’s the reason I held off on taking him up on his offer. He’d given me a check a long time ago, enough to put my mom in care full-time, but I never accepted until… I mean, I always knew that I’d be indebted to him if I took it… in more ways than financially, but I was desperate, Connor.”
He takes a moment, his breaths shaky. Then he looks down at his hands, his voice as broken as his demeanor when he asks, “You slept with him?”
“No,” I breathe out. My head tilts back, eyes to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. “I stayed with him, and after a couple of weeks, he crept into my bed one night while I was sleeping and—”
“Ava,” he cuts in, pained. “I don’t know that I can hear this.”
“I was prepared, though,” I rush out. “So… I kind of slept with a taser. Got him right in the dick.”
His entire everything changes instantly. “No, you didn’t,” he almost shouts, his laughter music to my ears.
I nod. “I did. And then I left right away and ran to Amy. I told her all about it, and Amy told Trevor and… well, let’s just say it took Peter a while to be able to breathe through his nose again.”
“Damn,” he says through a chuckle.
“Honestly, though, I feel bad,” I admit, getting more comfortable in his presence. “He was a genuine friend to Trevor for a long time, even if he saw me as… whatever.”
“A genuine friend wouldn’t do what he did, Ava,” he says, sitting taller.
I grab a glass and fill it with water, then slide it across the counter to him. “Yeah, I know, but there’s still guilt there, and I’m trying to work through it all. It’s just one of the many things I’m working through.” I watch, transfixed, as his Adam’s apple slides against his throat when he downs the water. Then I swallow, push away the thoughts flooding through my mind: I could lick him there.
He lowers the glass, his eyes on my lips, and I blink. Hard. Come back to reality. I say, my words rushed so he doesn’t have a chance to speak, “The program that Mom’s in—it’s pretty extensive in that they offer therapy for family members, too, so I go there once a week and—” he licks his lips “—and um…” I look away. “Yeah.”
“That’s good, Ava,” he says, his voice even. “I’m glad you have that support. You deserve it. Hell, you earned it.”
I rub my neck with the back of my fingers, feeling my racing pulse beating there. Then I inhale a huge breath, let it out in a whoosh. Over a year of holding everything in, and it’s time to let go. I’m sure of it. “Connor,” I say, but it comes out a whisper. I clear my throat, lift my chin, try to keep it all together. “A lot was going on when I um… when I left, I was in a pretty dark place…”
His eyes soften. “I know.”
“No, you don’t. There were moments where I gave up hope, not just for Mom, but for me, and—”
“I know,” he says, reaching across, the tips of his fingers taking hold of mine. Heartache forces my eyes closed. “Ava, look at me.” And hope forces them open again. “There was a night I’d left my phone in your room, and we were recording the assignment for multimedia…”
I gasp, low and slow.
“I saw everything.�
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A single sob escapes me, and I cover my face with my hands. “Oh, god…” I hear him get out of his chair, but I turn away, not wanting him to see me like this. Shame floods my bloodline, closing my airways.
“Hey,” he says, his hand on my back, soothing. And then he’s turning me to him, his arms wrapping around me.
This.
This is all I’ve wanted.
All I’ve needed.
And then he holds my head to his chest, my ear over his heart, and I break when I hear it.
When I feel it.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Magic.
Another sob forms in my throat, and he holds me tighter. “I wish I’d known,” he says, his voice shaking. “I wish I could’ve seen it as it was happening, but I was so consumed with what was going on in my life at the time, and I’m sorry, Ava. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
I wipe my tears on his chest, like I’d done too many times before, and pull back, look up at him, my hands grasping onto his T-shirt. “Miss Turner told me about Wendy,” I cry. “I’m sorry, Connor. I know that you told me to trust you with all of it, and I should have. I regret it every day. But I can’t change it.”
His thumbs slide along my cheek, and he stares at me, his eyes clear puddles of devastation. “Would it have changed anything?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so,” I tell him honestly. “I think I still would’ve left. Things were so bad—”
“I get it, Ava. I do.” His brow dips. “But if we’re throwing it all out there, it took me a long time to accept that you leaving wasn’t the same as you abandoning me—”
“Oh, God, Connor,” I whisper. “I would never—”
“I know, and I don’t want that to add to your guilt. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“No. I want you to tell me.” I try to shrug out of his hold, angry at myself, but he won’t let me go. “God, I’m such a selfish brat, I didn’t even consider how that would make you feel.”
He shakes his head. “I just needed time to get answers and to process what was happening, and I didn’t want it to be a burden on what was already happening with you. We both kept things to ourselves because we wanted to protect each other. Because that’s what we thought love was. We did so much to make the other person happy that, somewhere along the way, we forgot about ourselves.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” I say, nodding, and it’s clear I’m not the only one who’s spent the time apart searching my soul for answers. I ask, hesitant, “So, how is your mom?”
He shrugs. Then he eyes me a moment, as if contemplating his next words. “I lied to you, Ava.”
I force a smile. “I thought we just went through all of this. I under—”
“No,” he cuts in. “I mean, yeah that, too, but I lied to you earlier than that. A lot earlier. When we first met, you asked if I remembered anything about what happened to me…”
I nod, my heart beating wildly.
“I lied when I told you I didn’t. Because I do. I remember it all. I even remember the toy cars I was holding onto…” He watches me, his gaze intense. “You—”
“I met her,” I rush out, realization dawning on me like a ton of bricks landing right on my chest. “After the regionals final, that box with the cars? That was her?”
He nods slowly.
Eyes wide, I try to go back to that moment, remembering how she was, how he was the next morning when he opened it. He’d thrown up and blamed it on the alcohol, and… “Oh, God, Connor. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You couldn’t have known, and I didn’t want you to.”
“Why?” I breathe out.
“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice cracking. “It just felt like… too much. We were in such a good place, and I didn’t want her coming back and taking that away from me.”
My head dips forward, my heart aching for him. And sure, I could relive every moment of the past, redirect every second conversation so that we didn’t end up where we were, but that would be pointless, and so I push aside our regrets and ask, stumbling over my words, “Do you… do you guys still talk or…?”
He’s quick to shake his head as he gets comfortable leaning against the counter. One hand on my hip, the other wrapped around my waist, he responds, “Not even a little bit.”
I pout, my hands flat on his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” he says, so sure of himself. “She’s just as disappointing now as she was back then.”
“Did you get the answers you were looking for?”
He nods, clears his throat.
I lean closer to him.
He says, “She um… she left me in the car as revenge because my dad was having an emotional affair at the time…”
My eyes widen.
“With another man.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Your dad’s gay?”
“Yeah, he is,” he says, and I don’t know how he can fit so much pride in such a small smile. “He’s actually with the guy from back then.” He reaches up, fingers a strand of hair that’s fallen across my shoulder. He fixes his stare there, as he twirls it around his finger. “His name’s Michael. I like him a lot. He’s a great guy, and he’s good to my dad. But… they held on to those feelings and kept quiet for fifteen years, Ava…”
“That’s a long time,” I struggle to say, feeling the intensity between us growing.
“I know, right? But now they’re happy, and they’re free, and they’re—”
He stops there, suddenly, and I look up at him, my eyes pleading for him to continue.
He releases my hair, glides his palm across my shoulder to my nape. “Ava, I don’t want to hold on to my feelings for fifteen—” The smoke alarm goes off, and he gently moves me to the side, grabbing a dish towel on the way to the oven. It’s smoking, and how the hell did I not see it? Smell it? Magic. I was so lost, drowning in his magic, that nothing else mattered. He lowers the oven door, jerking back when the heat emits. And then he waves the cloth above him, in front of the smoke alarm, waiting for the air to clear.
It starts as a giggle, this feeling that takes over me, and ends in all-out, carefree laughter that has him doing the same. He pulls out the tray of vegetables that was supposed to go with the steak. It’s charcoal. He laughs harder, turning to me. “I’d still eat it just because you made it.”
“I wouldn’t make you,” I say through a giggle. “We still have the steak and the salad. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He turns back to the oven, then to me. “How did we not smell that?”
I mouth, my smile wide, my eyes on his, “Magic.”
He shakes his head. “Do you want to just order in? Save the steaks for tomorrow?”
“You’re coming over tomorrow?”
He smirks. “I could have steak for breakfast.”
“Connor!” I gasp. “Who says you’re staying the night?”
His expression falls. “I mean, I was talking about in general because I love steak… but hey, if you’re offering...”
My hands lift, cover the shame pinking my cheeks.
Fingers circling my wrists, he pulls my hands down and links our fingers. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“You’re too beautiful to be hidden.”
I almost lick his face. Almost.
“So, we order in?” I ask, releasing his hands to get to my phone. “What’s good around here?”
He shoves his hand in his pocket, pulls out his phone. “I got you.”
I take his phone, hide it in my bra. “I’m paying!”
“Hmm.” He eyes his phone, his hand out to retrieve it, but stops an inch away. “How did my phone get luckier than me?”
With a giggle, I hand it back to him. “Let me pay, though. Honestly. I invited you here; it’s only fair.”
“Can you afford it?” he asks, genuinely concerned.
I nod. “I don’t pay for anything here besides food a
nd travel. The house, all the bills, it’s covered. And I get a cut of Mom’s benefits.”
“A cut?” he asks.
“Most of it goes to Trevor. We’re trying to get as much of his debt cleared before he has to start paying off his student loans.”
Connor grimaces. “That sucks.”
I nod. “So, let me pay?”
“Fine.”
We order pizza and pasta and clean the kitchen while we wait for it to be delivered. When it arrives, we sit on the couch, with the Investigation Discovery channel on the TV.
“Did you keep in contact with anyone from school?” I ask him.
He nods, finishes chewing his food before answering, “I talk to Rhys and Karen, but that’s about it, and it’s that kind of weak social media conversation, you know?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
He chuckles. “Oh, shit. I haven’t told you. You know the whole Peter and Mitch thing?”
Anger flares, only for a second, before I nod.
He says, “So Rhys and Karen were over at my house—Rhys punched me a few times because he was still kind of in love with you, by the way—”
“What?”
“It’s irrelevant,” he says, flicking his wrist. “Anyway, Rhys and Karen were at my house when Mitch showed up to confess. Karen heard it all and smashed his face in with a wooden tray. Broke his nose.”
“Shut up!” I laugh out, my eyes wide. “That did not happen.”
“It absolutely fucking happened. Though I’m not sure if the tray broke his nose or if Dad did when he pretended to look at it.”
“No,” I gasp.
His hand settles on my bare thigh. “You are deeply loved, Ava,” he says, his tone soft. “And if you ever feel up to it, I think you should reach out to Karen. She misses you a lot.”
Without discussing it, we settle in for the evening, his arm on the couch behind me as we watch a stupid amount of true crime. I ask, “How’s basketball going?”
He shakes his head. “Last season was kind of a shitshow, to be honest. I wasn’t really motivated, and it showed. My agent was pissed. He kind of dumped me.”
“Dumped you?”
“Yeah, as a client,” he says, nodding. “I’m trying to fix it, though. I spent the summer getting extra training.” His eyes lock on mine. “I think this season will be different.”
