Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1) - Jay McLean Page 0,58
to tell anyone about the whole sleeping with a basketball thing?”
She laughs but doesn’t pull away. Her lips skim along my jaw, stop just below my ear. “But then the whole flashing my boobs to the AV guys so they’d broadcast it at the next game would be for nothing.”
I grunt when she bites down on my earlobe and bring my hand higher up her leg. “Don’t fucking joke.” Then I pull away, capture her mouth with mine, kissing her with a possessiveness I didn’t know was in me.
She giggles into my mouth.
“I’m not playing, Ava.”
She just laughs harder.
Trevor hisses the moment I open my front door. “Damn, kid. You took a beating.”
I step onto my porch and close the door behind me. “You should see the other guy.”
“I did, dude, and he doesn’t look anywhere near as bad as you.”
I shrug. “What’s up?”
“Can we maybe walk, talk about what happened?”
“There’s not much to say. I thought Peter was the reason Ava got hurt and I wanted to kill him.”
Trevor’s lips thin to a line, and he jerks his head toward the road. “Let’s walk anyway.” It’s not a question this time, so I reopen the door, tell Dad I’m heading out for a bit. We haven’t said much to each other since yesterday’s blow up, and I don’t plan on being the first to break. I have nothing to add to the conversation, and if he genuinely thinks he can stop me from seeing Ava, he obviously doesn’t know me as well as he thought he did.
Trevor walks beside me with his hands in his pockets. I do the same. We’re two blocks away from our houses, and he hasn’t said a word. I’ve got shit to do, so I say, “So… how was your trip?”
“You know it’s not the first time this has happened,” he says.
“What?” I ask, turning to him. “That one of Ava’s friends has started a fight with your friend on your front lawn?”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but Trevor shakes his head, his eyes on mine, not even a hint of humor in them. “That Ava’s mom has hurt her.” Oh, so we’re not here to talk about Peter and me. Noted. “It’s not the first time,” he repeats. “And it won’t be the last.”
Oh. “Right.” I didn’t know, and the way Ava explained it, she made it sound like an accident. Or maybe I chose to hear it that way.
I follow behind him as he walks up a steep hill. At the top is a little playground. One set of swings and a single slide.
He sits down on a swing, the entire frame bending with his weight. I stay standing… because I’m pretty sure the entire thing would collapse with both our loads. Trevor’s legs bend, then outstretch. He’s not really going for air; he’s just kind of… swaying. He exhales a sharp breath, his eyes to the ground. It’s clear that whatever he plans on saying next is hard for him, and so I focus, give him all my attention. “What’s going on?”
He scratches at his jaw, his brow furrowed. “Ava’s mom...”
“Yeah?”
“She’s been through a lot.”
“I mean, that’s pretty obvious, right?”
“No, Connor.” He shakes his head, his shoulders slumped. “You don’t even know the half of it.” He pauses a beat, and I let him gather his words. “She’s a POW. Do you know what that means?”
Swallowing, I nod. “Prisoner of war, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat, looks up at me, his eyes clouded. “I don’t want to get into too much detail, but her unit was under fire and uh… they caught her. They caught her and they...” He takes a breath, and then another, and I can see the struggle in his eyes, hear the weakness in his voice. “Jesus, Connor, do you know what they do to women—”
He can’t finish and I don’t want him to.
“They kept her for months, and when she finally managed to escape—that’s when the grenade…” A single tear falls from his eye, and he swipes at it quickly, sniffing back his emotions.
My legs give out beneath me, and so I sit on the stupid swing next to him, my stomach in knots. There's an ache in my chest, a burn so intense it has me groaning. Tears prick behind my eyes, and I rub at them, sniff once to keep my rage in check.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to say through the lump in my throat.