Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1) - Jay McLean Page 0,77

I can “chat.” Luckily, he’s calmed down enough to have an actual conversation with me. In my room, he sits on my desk chair while I sit on the bed, my fingers gripping the edge of the mattress.

“I understand why you did what you did today, Ava. And I’m sorry I blew up on you like that. I was worried, but I get it. You deserve that time… but you can’t be bringing Connor down with you.”

“Down with me?” I ask, looking him right in the eyes. “I didn’t put a gun to his head—”

“That’s not what I meant,” he sighs out. “What I mean is I know that school. I know the athletic program. He skips class, and it’s an automatic one-game suspension.”

“I’ll write another letter.”

“Ava, you’re missing the point,” he pushes. “Look, that school is lenient with you because of your circumstances. You skip a class here and there, and they allow it. You fall asleep in class, and they send you to the nurse’s office so you can sleep some more, but… Ava, it’s such a pivotal time in Connor’s life right now. He has college scouts and coaches watching his every move on and off the court. What he does off the court is a representation of his character, not his skill, and his character is just as important to them as his contribution to the scoreboard or whatever—” Trevor shakes his head. “Basketball is dumb, but you understand, right?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I say, and I do. Truly. I should’ve made him go back. I should have explained to his coach what happened and fought for him instead of being selfish and only thinking about what I wanted. What I needed. Him.

Trevor scratches his cheek, then his head, then his chest, his tell-tale sign of nerves. “So… you… you love him, huh?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, watching my legs kick back and forth. “I think so.”

“You think so, or you know so?”

“I don’t know, Trevor,” I whine. “I have all these thoughts and emotions, and I don’t know what to do with them, and I have no one to talk to about them.”

He nods, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths. Then he swallows. “Like… like… sex thoughts and emotions?” he asks, his voice wavering at the end.

I look to the side. “Maybe.”

He’s silent a beat, and then another beat, and a whole damn song could play in the time it takes him to react. “Right.” I watch him press his lips together, then get to his feet. He jumps up and down on the spot, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head side to side as if he’s gearing up for something. “I got this,” he whispers… to himself.

My eyes narrow as I watch him, confusion clouding my brain.

“I got this,” he says again and then flops back down on the chair.

“Ava,” he deadpans.

I eye him sideways. “Trevor?”

“When a man ejaculates—”

“Oh, my God, NO!” I throw my pillow at his head. “Get out!”

Chapter 41

Ava

“I’m not hungry,” Mom says, her tone flat as she stares at the wall. It’s the fifth day in a row she’s refusing to eat breakfast, and I really don’t know why I bother getting up when I do.

I cower when I drop the spatula and pan in the sink louder than expected. The last thing I want is to wake Trevor. “You have to eat, Mama,” I say, turning to her. “Krystal says you haven’t been eating much throughout the day.” And she’s losing weight, fast. I can see it in the hollow of her cheeks and the way her clothes seem to droop against her body. There are dark circles around her eyes from her lack of decent sleep. The doctors had prescribed some sleep meds for her, but she wakes up foggy and out of sorts and her reaction to that is far worse than the constant waking throughout the night. I try to assure myself that it’s just a phase and that as soon as they work out the right cocktail of medications to help her both physically and emotionally, we’ll be able to move on. I might even get a positive day out of her at some point.

Mom sighs heavily, pushing away the plate I’d just made up for her. “Where are my cigarettes?”

“You don’t smoke, Mama.”

Her gaze flits to mine before going back to the wall. “Buy me cigarettes on your way home from school, okay?”

“I can’t,” I tell her, trying to keep my composure.