Page 92 of Heartache Duet

I ask, “Have you or Coach Sykes or your agent heard any more?”

He shakes his head. “No. Besides that one guy from Duke, nothing. Ross, my agent, thinks I might need more time. He says it’s not because I don’t have the skill, it’s just… I haven’t had the exposure.”

“So, what does that mean?”

Connor shrugs. “I’ll probably get a walk-on at a decent college, but it won’t be a D1. At least not yet. He’s hoping if I work hard enough freshman year, more options will open up for me.” He adjusts so he’s on his side, facing me completely. “What about you? Where are you thinking of applying?”

“I don’t really know,” I murmur. “And I don’t even know what Trevor’s game plan is. Like, yeah, I get accepted somewhere and then what? I move Mom into the dorms with me? Or I leave her?” I shake my head, my cheeks puffing with my exhale. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe he’s just giving you options,” he suggests.

I sigh. “There are no options for me, Connor. As soon as I graduate, I become my mother’s keeper.”

“Is that what you want?”

I stare out through the windshield, then suck in a breath. “It’s what she needs,” I whisper. And it’s true. Because as much as I try to ignore it, she’s getting worse, and I don’t know how to fix it.

“That’s not what I asked, Ava.”

I straighten my features and turn to him, my hand going to his hair. “Are you going back to school?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

A grin tugs at my lips. “You want to go for a walk?”

We walk through the thick brush, listening for the sounds of the water stream. “Is it weird that I always look around for dead bodies when I’m walking through bushes and trails?” I ask.

“Not weird at all,” he says sarcastically.

We walk for a good fifteen minutes before we reach a clearing, and the sight that greets us is nothing less than spectacular. The clear skies reflect off the clear blue water of the calm lake, not a wave in sight.

“You think it’ll be cold?” I ask, standing on the water’s edge with him.

Connor squats down and runs his hand through the water, then comes up shaking his head. “It’s surprisingly warm,” he says, then looks up at me, his eyebrows raised. “You want to go for a swim?”

“In what?”

“The water, dummy.”

Smartass. “I mean, wearing what?”

“I vote nothing.”

“I veto your nothing vote.”

He laughs, eyeing me. “Well, isn’t your underwear the same as a bikini?”

I chew on my lip, nervous. Technically yes, but even if I were standing in a bikini in front of him, I’d still feel self-conscious. “Turn around.”

His eyebrows lift. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

He sighs but complies.

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