Page 97 of Heartache Duet

“Yeah,” I confirm through an exhale.

“Well, I’m sure Ava needed that,” he says, sympathetic.

“She did. She does.”

Dad stands, stretches, then starts pacing the living room like Trevor did. I’d ask if we’re done here, but I know him… there’s more. I just don’t know which way he’s going to flip it. He sits back down at the spot he left only seconds ago, his elbows on his knees. “You have to start thinking long term here, Connor.”

I almost fail at hiding my eye-roll. “I know. The end game. I get it, Dad.”

He shakes his head, rubs his chin. “It’s more than that now,” he explains. “If you care about Ava like you seem to and you want a future with her, you need to think about more than just now. And while now is good for you guys, great even, you need to think about the future. Because if you want her in your life for more than now, you have to find a way to take care of not only her but her mother… because that girl—she’s never going to leave her mom. And as much as she loves you, she loves her mom more, which she should.” He pauses a moment, before asking, “So how are you planning on doing that, Connor? Taking care of both of them emotionally and financially?”

My head spins while I replay every one of his words, over and over. I think about what I want in my life, in my future, and the only thing I see is Ava. “I go pro,” I declare. “I have to.”

He nods. “So, what you do now is going to determine what happens tomorrow. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

He stands. “Right now, your focus is what?”

I release the only truth that makes sense. “Basketball.”

AVA

Krystal offers to stay so Trevor and 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?”

---