Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1) - Jay McLean Page 0,79

spend all of first period going through a game plan that includes extra practices, one-on-one coaching with all the coaches. More gym time. More studying. More of everything. Coach even puts in a call to an old friend about getting me into a four-day invitational held by some big name pros around Thanksgiving. It would be a dream, but I’m not holding my breath.

At the end of the period, Coach says, “Today, you have lunch with your team.”

“I spend time with my girlfriend at lunch,” I tell him.

He eyes me over the rim of his glasses. “Do you now?”

I shake my head, my heart heavy. “I guess not.”

Ava

Lunch comes around, and I spend the first half sitting in the bleachers without my partner in crime. When he does appear, he’s grinning from ear-to-ear. “Hey, girlfriend,” he says, kissing my cheek. He sits opposite me with the lunch he acquired from the cafeteria. “Sorry I’m late. I had a thing I had to do.”

“A thing?”

He shrugs. “Just a basketball thing. It’s not important.”

“It sounds important,” I murmur, shoving his knee gently with my foot. “Tell me.”

He holds on to my ankle, tugging gently. With a smile, I get down to his level, sit sideways on his lap. He nuzzles my neck. “I missed you,” he says, kissing me there.

“I missed you, too.”

He exhales, slowly. “Sorry about first period and being late. I know our time together is so limited, but…” he trails off.

I lift his head in my hands, look in his eyes. “It’s okay; I know you’re busy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he repeats. His eyes search mine, his features falling with every second that passes. “I just miss you is all.” But that’s not all, and I can see it in the way he looks at me, the way his lips tremble.

I hold his face in my hands and release the words I’ve held on to all night. Words I’ve been looking forward to saying to him. “I love you, Connor,” I tell him. “God, I love you so much.”

Connor

I swallow down the pressure that had been building inside me and stare at the soul that causes my heart to beat. Where my world begins and ends. I hold her to me, afraid to let go. “I love you, Ava… with everything I have.”

I keep my eyes closed, hiding the fear in my heart.

What if I do all this?

Risk it all.

And still fail?

What happens to Ava?

To her mom?

What happens to us?

Chapter 42

Ava

“We need to do something,” Trevor whispers.

I look down at the floor. “I know.”

“So… what are we going to do?”

Lifting my gaze, I look at my mother sitting on the couch in the same clothes she’s been in for over a week. She’s been refusing to shower, and no amount of convincing seems to work. “I don’t know.”

“It’s getting bad, Ava.”

“The smell?”

He shakes his head. “That, too, but just… her. She’s getting worse,” he says, his voice hushed as we stand in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. On the kitchen table behind me, another dinner is left untouched.

“It’s fine,” I argue, trying to convince myself more than anyone else. “She’ll be okay; it’s just… a phase.”

My phone dings with a text.

Connor: That game just about killed me. About to hop in an ice bath if you want to join me?

“Shit,” I hiss.

“What?” Trevor asks.

“I forgot Connor’s game.” And the balloon. “Dammit.”

“He’ll understand,” Trevor assures. “You’ve been dealing with a lot.”

I read over his text again, trying to find a way to respond. And then: “Hey, Mama? What if I run you a bath instead of a shower?”

Her expression doesn’t change, neither does the direction of her stare. “A bath sounds nice.”

“Thank God,” Trevor breathes out.

I rush to the bathroom and start running the water.

Ava: As bad as that sounds, I wish I could, just to be near you. I’m sorry there was no balloon. Give me five, I’ll check the school website and get a rundown of the game.

He doesn’t respond, probably in the bath, and so I focus on getting the water to the perfect temperature, filling it with as many scented bath products as I can find. I call her when it’s ready, and she comes willingly, stripping out of her clothes without care. “Will you stay with me?” she murmurs.

“Of course, Mama.”

I close the door behind us and help her get in. She sits with the water to her neck, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She