First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,127
you’ve got heart,” I tell him. “And you care. And you’re invested in me.”
He shakes his head, disbelieving. “What’s your angle, man?” His dark eyes flick between mine. “What do you…”
“I’m going to do my four years…”
He nods. “Okay…?”
“And there’s only one team I want.”
His throat bobs with his swallow.
I add, “And I want you to get me on that team. I want to go pro, but I don’t care about the money.”
“Connor, that’s—” He blows out a breath. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“But you have two and a half years to make it work like that.”
He licks his lips, his eyes still questioning.
“And I’ll give you an advance.”
“What?”
I nod. “To buy your girl her dream ring.”
“What?”
“And pay off your student loans.”
“What?”
“And a house for you and Amy.”
“What?”
I laugh. “Didn’t Ava tell you?”
“What?”
“I’m kind of rich now.”
“What?”
“Say something else.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to be my agent?”
“Connor,” he deadpans, his hands going to his head. “My mind is blowing up right now. I can’t even comprehend the fact that you want me to be your agent, let alone the fact that you’re somehow rich enough to—wait, did you take money from someone, because the NCAA—”
“No,” I cut in. “It’s a long story, but trust me, I can do what I’m offering and not feel a dent.”
“Fuck you.”
I laugh. “So?”
“It would be a loan?”
“No, it would an advance on whatever you make off of me.”
“What if I can’t make it happen?”
“Then you’re screwed,” I joke. Then add, more seriously, “You’ll make it happen, bro. I don’t know many people in this world who have more perseverance than you.”
He stares up at the moon again, cracking his knuckles.
“So?” I ask. “What do you say? You want to take on some nobody from Florida as your first client?”
He turns to me, a puff of breath leaving him. “Okay.”
I smile. “Okay.”
Epilogue
Ava
“Okay, so what do you need from me? Do you want space, or time, or me? Do you want me? Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”
Connor sits on the edge of the hotel room bed, his head in his hands, his bag by his feet. He releases a long, drawn-out breath before he reaches between us and takes my hand in his. He looks up, his eyes clear. “I need you to calm the hell down, baby. You’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry,” I breathe out, letting him pull me between his legs.
His head settles on my stomach, his arms going around my waist. “You’re going to be there early, right?”
“I’ll be the first one through the gates.”
Connor chuckles. “And you got all the tickets?”
“All of them.”
“And you’re coming with your mom—”
“As soon as you leave, I’m going to meet her and your dad and Michael in the lobby.”
Connor nods. “All right.”
“All right.”
He turns to me, a smile playing on his lips. “I should probably get going,” he says, passing me a black marker. I take his hand, settle it on my bare thigh, and write Miss D on the back of his hand, and Ava E. D. Diaz below it. Then I reach into my purse and pull out a blue balloon. I blow it up, make quick work of writing Connor Ledger #1 Boo Devil. I hand it to him, loving the way his eyes light up when he takes it from me.
Three years.
Three seasons.
And this is what we do before every game.
But we’ve never had a game like this before.
Duke is in the NCAA Division I championship, and this is Connor’s last game as a Duke Blue Devil.
“Okay.” Connor stands, and he rolls his neck, his shoulders, then he shakes out his hands, turning to me when I get to my feet. “Say it,” he says.
I rise to my toes, my palm above the heart, and kiss him, my mouth open, tongue swiping against his. When I pull away, his eyes are still closed, and so I kiss him again. Just once. “I love you, number three.”
He smacks my ass, just as Trevor knocks on the door. Trevor’s been staying with us during Connor’s finals so he can be nearby when NBA teams call or want meetings with Connor. Because that’s happening. A lot. And Trevor’s Connor’s agent—a deal they apparently made three years ago. A deal they didn’t tell me about until only recently.
“Can I come in or is my sister naked?”
“You can come in,” Connor laughs out, grabbing his bag and swinging the strap around his torso.