First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,8

airport… I don’t know. I had this whole stupid panic attack over it, which is dumb because—”

“It’s not dumb,” she interrupts, pouting.

I shrug. “It’s incredibly emasculating to have to ask your daddy to fly with you because you can’t get over your fucking childhood trauma, you know?”

She stares at me a moment, then lowers her gaze. “I think it’s incredibly brave you went at all,” she says quietly.

I rub my temples, a tension headache building. “How’s your mom?”

Ava heaves out a sigh, her frown all-consuming. “They’ve got her on so many meds, she’s not even my mom anymore. She’s barely human. I hate it so much.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ava shrugs. “Krystal’s been here during the break, so I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands.” She pats the bench we’re sitting on. “I got this.”

“I noticed.”

“And—” she holds up a baby monitor I hadn’t seen yet “—I got this for Mom’s room. It’s… wait for it… money.”

A low chuckle builds in my chest, and I look ahead when I say, “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?” That’s when I spot a dark car cruising down the street, slowly, no headlights on. “What the hell is this?”

She peers up, sees what I’m seeing. “I don’t know,” she mumbles.

I get to my feet.

She does the same.

The car turns at the end of the cul-de-sac and slows even more as it starts to pass. I step in front of Ava. “Get down!”

“What?”

I shove her behind me, my eyes narrowed, trying to focus. The back window lowers, and a gun barrel—“Fuck!” I turn, push Ava to the ground and cover her completely. My ears fill with Ava’s screams as shot after shot is fired, some hitting the house, some on my back. I hold on to her as she tries to scramble free, crying my name. Tires screech and then silence descends. Heart racing, breaths hot and heavy against the cool night air, I check that they’re gone before releasing her. Her eyes wide, mouth agape, she stares up at me, unblinking. I swallow, flick the fucking paint off my arm. “It was just a paintball gun,” I breathe out.

Ava’s shaking her head, her breaths jagged. “Connor.” My gaze locks on hers. Her eyes are wild. “There was no way you could’ve known that was just a paintball gun.”

My pulse beats wildly in my chest, but I try to stay calm. For her. I wipe at the paint on the bench, adrenaline tightening my airways. “It should clean up easily.”

“Leave it. It doesn’t matter.” Ava’s throat moves with her swallow as her eyes fill with tears. Anger mars her features when she says, “It’s the third time this week someone’s messed with the house. Sometimes I wish I could just set this whole fucking place on fire and leave and never look back.” She takes a calming breath. Two. Then she looks up at me, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Nothing good has come of this place, Connor. There was you. And now there’s nothing.”

I grasp her face in my hands, my eyes soaking in her heartache. “I’m still here,” I breathe out.

She grabs on to my jacket, her eyes drifting shut. A heartbeat passes, strong and sure. I lower my mouth, at the same time her front door opens.

“What the hell happened?” Peter asks.

I don’t turn to him. I keep my eyes on Ava as she blinks. Blinks. Blinks.

“Fuck,” Peter spits. “Get inside, Ava.”

My silence begs her to stay.

But her reality forces her to leave.

Ava

“What the hell happened?” Peter whispers, dragging me to my room.

Still in shock, I stare up at him.

His eyes don’t stop moving as he takes me in, his hand on my arm squeezing. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“No,” I whisper. “Connor…”

“Connor what?”

I try to breathe, try to calm the hell down. “Connor threw me on the ground and covered me… but he wouldn’t have known it wasn’t a real…”

“Jesus Christ, Ava,” he murmurs, slumping down on the edge of my bed. “Your boy’s an idiot.”

“What?” I huff out.

Peter laughs. “He’s willing to take bullets for a girl he’s not even dating.”

Peter’s words pierce a hole through my chest, and I struggle to stay standing. Struggle to breathe. I sit down next to him, my gaze lowered, hand on my stomach to ease the ache.

Peter throws his arm around my neck, bringing me to him. He adds, scoffing, “The kid’s NBA bound, and he just risked his life for what? For you?” Bile rises

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