back to the sports park. That might help, right?”
I dry my hands on a dish towel and look up at him. “I don’t know, Connor. You can ask, but not right now.”
He nods, looking out the window. “Fireflies will be out soon. That could help, too.” It warms my heart that he’s this thoughtful, especially when it comes to her. I just wish it was enough to take away the constant dull ache in my chest. Things with us haven’t been the same since Wendy. I still don’t know who she is, and I’m not going to ask. But it’s there, nagging, always at the forefront of my mind, and maybe that’s why I’m struggling with my feelings toward him. Or maybe I’m just placing all the blame for our disconnect on that and not everything else that seems to be going on around us.
Headlights shine through the living room window, and I look at the time. It’s close to 8 p.m., and Trevor’s just now getting home. He enters a moment later, his eyes instantly finding Mom on the couch. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek before making his way to the kitchen. “Hey, man,” he says to Connor. Then to me: “Please tell me we have food.”
“Yeah. I saved you a plate in the fridge.”
“Are you just finishing work now?” Connor asks him.
Trevor nods, his head in the fridge, searching for the plate that’s no doubt right in front of him. “Yep. I have to somehow dig myself out of this debt.” He looks at Connor. “You know anyone who needs any work done? We’re kind of desperate right—”
I clear my throat, stopping him from revealing too much. I don’t want Connor to know, to worry.
Trevor’s focus flicks between Connor and me, but Connor’s the first to speak. “How bad is it?”
“It’s not bad,” I lie.
Trevor shakes his head at me. “Ava, Connor knows people around here. More than you do. He could probably use some contacts from the team to help us out. Contacts with money.”
“Trevor, stop,” I sigh out. “It’s not his problem.”
Connor pushes off the counter. “Wait, it’s that bad?”
“No.” Another lie from me.
“Yes,” says Trevor, narrowing his eyes at me. “Would you rather Connor hand out some of my business cards or I make the call to Peter, because—”
“Hang on,” Connor cuts in.
I grind my teeth, my lashes lowering.
“What does Peter have to do with—”
“Nothing,” I interrupt. “He’s got nothing to do with this. And neither do you.” I look at Trevor. “This is my problem. No one else’s.”
“And mine,” Trevor says. “Mainly mine.”
“I just need time,” I whisper, glancing at Mom. She hasn’t moved from her spot. In fact, she hasn’t moved at all. She’s fallen asleep sitting up.
“You keep saying that, but I don’t—”
“I’m not doing this right now,” I snap, filling a cup with water. I reach up, turn the combination lock for the top cupboard where we keep all Mom’s meds, glasses, and anything sharp that could possibly harm her. I gather all the pills she needs at night and turn to Connor. “I’ll meet you in my room. Can you set everything up?”
He nods, but he doesn’t move.
I go to Mom, wake her gently, and help her to her room, where she downs multiple pills and falls back asleep without any issues. When I get to my room, Connor’s sitting on my desk chair, a tripod set up in front of him. He has his phone attached, the camera angled to my bed. We’re working on the multimedia project we were given early in the semester. For the past few days, we’d been doing the research and working on the script, and tonight we’re supposed to be filming it. “Should I change?” I ask, looking down at my baggy T-shirt and sweatpants.
“I think you look perfect,” Connor says, a sad, crooked smile playing on his lips.
I open my drawers, one by one, without really looking at anything in there. I hear the desk chair rolling across the carpet before I feel Connor’s touch on my waist. I turn to him, see the anguish coating his expression. “Why are you trying to keep this from me?”
“I told you, it’s not your problem.” Besides, who is he to question me when it comes to secrets?
“It is my problem.” He pulls me down until I’m sitting sideways on his leg, my feet between his. “You know how much I care about you, right?” I stay quiet because I don’t