First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,66
MVP! MVP!
Ava: Too much? Too fucking bad!
Ava: I love you. Miss you. Call me when you get done being a fucking MVP! MVP!
My cheeks hurt from the strength of my smile as I read Ava’s texts.
Connor: I just got out of the shower. About to shake hands with some NBA scouts. Wish me luck.
Ava: As if you need it.
Connor: lol. I’ll call you when I’m done?
Ava: Take your time, MVP.
Connor: You’re going to let this get to my head.
Ava: Oh, I’m going to get to your head. All over it. Drool all over that weenus, baby!
Connor: You’re crazy, and I love you.
Ava: I love you more.
Connor: I gotta go. Send nudes.
The few hours after the game are a blur of handshakes and business card collecting. Agents, scouts, even a few pros come out to meet us. I’d planned on showing up and making a name for myself today. I felt like I had something to prove, and so I went out and did it. Never in my dreams did I think I’d get MVP. Not with the caliber of talent that came out to play. It’s insane.
I tell the same story to all the reporters in the press conference after, my post-game adrenaline enough to push aside my nerves. When it’s all over and I’m walking toward the bus to take us back to the hotel, the first thing I do is go for my phone, read through Ava’s texts again, reminding me of my reason, of my end game. My smile widens when I see the few new messages from her.
Ava: I’m getting your name tattooed on my ass.
Ava: I’m officially a Connor Ledger groupie. I’m one in a million, sure, but I’m THE one in a million, and I also know where to stab someone for an instant kill and silent death… just in case any other girl gets too close.
Ava: Shit. Delete that. OMG. I was kidding, FBI! Haha. *shifty eyes*
Ava: Connor Ledger: St. Luke’s Academy, All-American MVP, Duke Alumni, starting point guard for [insert whatever goddamn NBA team you want because YOU GOT THIS, BABY!].
“Connor?”
I look up, my smile falling instantly. My heart stops, and every muscle in my body solidifies.
“Ledger, you coming?” one of my teammates calls from just inside the bus doors.
“I’ll uh… I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“You sure?” he asks, and I nod.
I wait for the bus doors to close before taking a breath and glancing at the woman in front of me. Anger flares, but it disappears just as fast. “What… what do you want?”
Her gaze drops, so do her shoulders. “You recognize me?” Her hair’s lighter than I remember. Her eyes, too. And she’s aged. Badly. But she’s still the woman my nightmares are made of.
I clear the ball of nerves rising in my throat and mumble the truth I’ve been holding on to for fifteen years. “It’s a little hard to forget the person who tried to kill you.”
She nods, and it seems like the atmosphere is closing in on us. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me,” she says, just above a whisper.
So many times, I’ve thought about this moment, right here, and everything I’d say to her if I got the chance. I push aside my hurt and tell her, “I’d probably remember you more if you’d turn around considering the last time I saw you, you were walking away from me.”
“You’re mad?”
“Should I not be?” I try to take a calming breath, but it doesn’t seem to help. “What do you want?”
“Look,” she says, glancing at all the people still milling around us. “This isn’t the time or place… but can you meet me somewhere?”
“No.” I don’t want to be here. Not with her. Not alone. I grip my phone tighter. As pathetic as it is, I want my dad.
“Please.”
I laugh once, look over her shoulder, and hope she can’t see the ache through my eyes. “It’s funny… I cried that same word over and over in that car… when I felt like I was suffocating. I said please, Mama, and you didn’t care then, so…”
“I know.” She wipes at the corners of her eyes, and my gaze moves there, sees the pain she’s carrying. “There’s a lot of things we need to talk about.”
“You need to talk about,” I rush out, trying to be strong, defiant. “I have nothing to say to you.”
I start to walk away, but she stops me, her hand on my elbow. I flinch. Turn to her.