First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,17
“How could you have?”
True. “Did you do anything for it?”
Another shrug.
“Well, it’s a nice truck.”
He leans against his door and murmurs, “Yeah, you’ve said that.” There’s no humor in his tone, and now that I think about it, he really didn’t seem all that happy to see me. And that realization creates a dull ache in my chest. “Did I interrupt something? Were you busy?”
He keeps his gaze forward. “Nope.”
“Because if you were, I could catch the—”
“I said no, Ava. It’s fine.”
“You just seem like… like you’re mad at me?”
The heaviness of his sigh has me wanting out. Out of this car and out of this entire situation. This was clearly a mistake, and I don’t even know why. He stops at a red, and I’m so tempted to open the door and run. Anywhere but here.
I swallow the knot in my throat and force myself to try again. “Are you ready for school?”
His gaze flicks to mine, his jaw ticking. Then he reaches over, turns on the radio. And my heartache becomes too strong. “Actually, I forgot my wallet,” I tell him, looking out my window. I struggle to speak through the giant lump in my throat. “Can you just take me back home?” He waits for the green and takes off again, but he doesn’t turn around. “Or just drop me off wherever. I can walk.”
“I can afford what you need, Ava.”
But I don’t need anything besides him, and he’s clearly not willing to give me that. “Honestly, it’s fine.”
“We’re almost there.”
“We can just—”
He turns the volume up, shutting me out completely.
I turn my back to him, wipe at my eyes before the first tear falls. I don’t want him to see them. To claim them.
We get to the store, and I grab what I faked coming here for: bread, milk, fruit. He walks with me, but we don’t speak, don’t look at each other. At the checkout, he grabs a bunch of flowers before paying for everything. I don’t ask who the flowers are for because any answer would just ruin me more. “I’ll pay you back,” I tell him, and he shakes his head, looking everywhere but at me.
When we get to his truck, I sit with my back turned to him, my face practically pressed against the window. We don’t say a word to each other until we’re sitting in his driveway, and the engine’s off, and we’re surrounded by silence. He asks, “Hey, do you remember that day at the lake?”
I don’t know why of all the things he could possibly say, he chooses to say that.
I nod without turning to him. “Of course.”
He clears his throat. “That was one of the best days of my life, Ava.” He opens his door, and I do the same, but neither of us gets out of the car. After a sigh, he says, “I just wanted you to know that. For whatever stupid reason.”
I finally face him, see the anguish in his eyes, and say, my heartbreak forming my words, “It was the best day of my life.”
His head drops forward, and he rubs the back of his neck, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he spits, hitting the steering wheel.
I cower, grab the groceries, and get out of the car, needing the air, the space. “Thanks for the ride,” I call out, closing the door.
I make it to the sidewalk before he grasps my arm. “Ava, just wait.”
I suck in a breath, hold it, and reluctantly turn to him.
He’s holding the flowers at his side, his jaw tense, nostrils flared.
I stand tall, look up at him.
After a sharp inhale, he lets it all out: “I wish I knew what you wanted from me, Ava, because it’s doing my fucking head in. One minute you’re telling me you want no contact, and the next you’re knocking on my door asking for a ride. Why not call Rhys or Karen? Or Peter? Because I know he’s in town checking in on you. And you know how I know? Because Rhys told me. Not you. And I know that Krystal’s been with your mom all break, which means you’ve had every chance to come over and hang out with me. And honestly, I’ve waited. For days, I’ve waited for you to show. And now it’s the last day of break, and when you do come, it’s because you need something from me. And that’s fine. If you or your mom need anything, I’m here. I made