First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,83
was a hard line I didn’t plan on blurring, and so I asked her to get me my own.
She says, wiping at her eyes, “It’s okay. You’ve done everything you can.”
I have.
And this is all I’m willing to do, I’ve decided. Because it’s caused too many problems and put too much of a strain on the person who matters the most: Ava.
“Where’s your room?” I ask.
“On the other side of the hotel.”
“I’ll walk you.”
She smiles, but it’s sad. “That’s very chivalrous of you.”
I shrug. “I guess Dad raised me…” I trail off. He raised me right, even without you. I look away when I catch the hostility in her eyes.
“Connor, did you talk to your dad about—”
“No,” I cut in. “If he wanted to tell me what happened back then, he would’ve already. And if you think it’s something I should know, then you need to be the one to say it.”
She exhales, her cheeks puffing with the force. “You’re very mature for your age.”
“I guess it comes with the near-death experience.” I regret it the moment the words are out, but I stand tall, act defiant. Because even though I know what I’m saying is hurting her, she needs to see the effect her choices have made on my life. The hours of therapy, the anxiety, the constant fear of being left alone. For years, I cried, holding on to Dad’s leg every morning he left me at daycare or at school, and even now… there are moments when he’s not home when I think he should be, and I call just to make sure he’ll be back. Fifteen years of this shit, and I…
I don’t know why I’m here.
I should go home.
To my dad.
To Ava.
“You know what?” I say. “I think I’m just going to go to my room. It’s been a long day.”
“All right, son.”
“Don’t call me that.” Aggravation forms a knot in my stomach. “I’m not…” I shake my head. “Bye.”
Eyes glazed, she stares through me, nodding. “Goodbye, Connor.”
Ava
After what feels like an eternity, I finally feel comfortable enough to “use” the present. I go to my room and use it in private, just in case it’s inappropriate, because who the hell knows with Connor.
I sit in the middle of my bed with the jar on my lap while darkness surrounds me. Pathetically giddy, I can’t help but giggle when I flick the switch. A buzz sounds from inside the jar, and it takes a moment for something to happen, but when it does, my jaw drops, and my heart soars. Tiny specs of light glow from the jar, hitting the walls of the room, circling all around me. “Fireflies,” I whisper, watching them float across the room. And then the music starts, “Fireflies” by Owl City. I’d told him about that camping trip with my mom, but it was so long ago, and how… how did he remember? How did he do this? Tears fill my eyes while elation fills my heart. “Mama!” I leave the jar on my bed and rush to the living room. “Mama, look!” I grasp her hand, force her onto her feet.
Trevor stands, too. “What is it?”
“Look!” I practically drag Mom into my room and wait for Trevor to step inside before closing the door. “Look! And listen.”
It takes a second before Mom gasps, “Ava, it’s our song.”
“It’s our song!” I laugh out.
“And fireflies.”
“So many of them! Whenever we want them, Mama! Connor—” I break off on a cry, the weight of his gift hitting me right in the chest. “He gave us a do-over.”
“He gave us a do-over,” Mom repeats, finding my hand in the darkness. “Oh, Ava. It’s beautiful.”
“I know.”
She squeezes my hand. “Let’s go!”
“What? Where?”
“Come on!”
Trevor opens the door for the both of us, and I quickly flick off the switch on the jar, not wanting to waste its battery. Now, Mom drags me by my arm… through the house and out the front door. She doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second as she calls over her shoulder to Trevor, “Open the garage.”
Trevor complies, and she starts rummaging through all the stuff we wanted to keep but had no real use for. “What are you looking for?” I ask.
“The tent!”
“The tent?” I repeat.
She smiles over at me. “Ava, if we’re going to have a do-over, we’re going to do it right!”
Trevor chuckles. “I think it’s over here.” He shifts around some boxes and uncovers our old camping gear.