First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,100

his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Mitch yelps in pain and Dad squeezes harder. “Yep, it’s definitely broken.” He releases Mitch completely. “Now get the fuck off my porch before you stain it with your depravity.”

Chapter 42

Connor

I tried calling Ava to warn her about Peter. I also tried calling Trevor. My calls went unanswered. So did Rhys’s and Karen’s. We concluded pretty quickly that they’d gotten new numbers and didn’t want to be contacted. It all makes sense now that I think about it. Peter was around when all the major stuff went down, and knowing he got what he wanted is one thing but knowing he’s with Ava… that’s another.

I worry.

I can’t not.

Because if he’s willing to stoop that low to get to her, then what else is he capable of?

I miss her.

I miss her so fucking much it aches.

What’s left of her house has now been cleared. I was able to go there just before the work started and collected what I could of what remained. Mostly, I looked for the photos that were on her mom’s walls: the ones of her as a kid, of her growing up, all of them with her smiling that smile that settled so many of my insecurities. I keep them all in a box under my bed and promise myself that one day, I’ll look at them, and I’ll stop hurting and start remembering. I’ll remember the good she brought out of me, the confidence, the ability to love, and to trust and to…

Lying in bed, I unlock my phone and start going through all the pictures I’d taken of her.

Nine months.

You can grow an entire human in nine months.

And you can fall in love with an entire human in much less.

I find my favorite picture I’d taken of her. She’s in my old car, my arm held to her chest while drool formed a puddle on my weenus. It was the first day I hinted that I loved her, and it was the first day she declared it out loud. I keep going through the pictures, moments and memories, and I wish I’d taken more videos because—and I learned after my mom abandoned me—a person’s voice is the first thing you forget. You remember the way they look, even if it’s blurry; you remember certain parts of their bodies: their eyes, their hair… but you forget their voice. You forget what it sounds like when they tell you they love you, and you forget the tones of their voice when they sing. But worse, you forget their laugh, the way they start low and get higher when the single emotion consumes them. You forget the sound of their sigh at the end when the moment’s over. You forget the moment when The Happiness is so intense it bubbles out of their beings and emits out of their mouths.

I switch to the videos folder and go through them, too, stopping on the last one I’d taken. I’d completely forgotten about it because it wasn’t candid and wasn’t a display of our love for each other. It’s the video for the multimedia project we’d done for school that I’d since been excused from seeing as I didn’t have a partner. I hit play, my heart sinking when she comes to life. But it’s not the her I want to remember. It’s not Ava.

She’s sad.

God, she’s so fucking sad, and I see it now, but I didn’t see it then. I felt it, I’m sure, but it didn’t cut deep like it does now. She’s reading off a script, no inflection in her tone, and occasionally she’ll look up at me, but her eyes… there’s no light in her eyes, no spark, no magic.

I listen to our back and forth, our voices low and melancholy. “Maybe now’s not a good time for this,” she says.

And I reply, because I’m selfish, “I can’t fix this if I don’t know what’s broken, Ava.”

It takes her a moment to respond. “I’m fine. I just want you to be the same.”

I replay it all in my head at the same time I watch it play out in front of my eyes. I ask, “You want me to stay with you tonight?”

She shakes her head. “I’m pretty beat. I’m probably just going to sleep now.” She gets off the bed, and I recall her walking me to the door, can hear us saying goodnight to each other. No more than a minute later, she’s back in her