Page 161 of Heartache Duet

I swallow, anxious.

“Your mom?” he asks.

“Yeah…”

“Does she… is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. It’s just…” I pick at the fluff on my sleep shorts. “She wants you to come over.”

Silence.

Followed by more silence.

Finally, he asks, “Really?”

“Yeah,” I say through a sigh. “I don’t know why, and Mom won’t tell me. She just kept saying for you to come over. And, look, you’re busy, and I’ll tell her so.”

His heavy breath causes static through the speakers. “I kind of told the guys I’d—”

“I know,” I cut in. “And I don’t want you to change your plans. It’s fine, Connor. Honestly.”

“But I want to,” he says. “Shit. I told Oscar I’d give him a ride home.”

“Connor,” I laugh out. “It’s okay. You can’t be dropping your life because my mom randomly wants to see you.”

“Let me just eat, and I’ll ask one of the other guys to take Oscar home. I can be there in half an hour.”

“No, it’s—”

“Ava!” He almost shouts. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to. I want to see your mom, and you, too, I suppose, depending on what you’re wearing.”

“You’re a dick.”

“I know. I’ll see you soon, all right?”

“Okay. And Connor?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Twenty-six minutes later and Connor’s text comes through that he’s walking up the driveway. I open the door, anxious and apprehensive, and so I hide those feelings by sniffing him as he enters. “Mmm. Post-shower jock.”

He unzips his team jacket and hands it to me, smirking. “Add it to your collection, creep.”

I happily take it off his hands and throw it into my bedroom as we pass. It lands on my bed, and I contain my smile as I walk us to the living room. Mom’s sitting on the couch, and Connor flops down next to her, his arm resting behind her. “I heard you wanted to see me, Miss Diaz?” he says quietly.

Trevor watches from the doorway between the living room and kitchen, and I sit on the other couch, my heart racing. People fear what they don’t know, and I have no idea what’s about to happen. Connor though—he looks calm. Almost too calm. Maybe it’s the post-win adrenaline or the fact that she asked him here. Who the hell knows?

“Connor, six-five, but is hoping for a growth spurt,” Mom mumbles, lifting her gaze to him.

Connor’s perfect teeth show when he smiles at her.

I say, “It’s how she remembers things. Like, recollection words…”

Connor nods. “I know.” His eyes soften. “I got this, Ava. Relax.”

Mom stands, starts pacing, and Connor keeps his eyes on her. “Connor, six-five, but is hoping for a growth spurt,” she repeats.

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