Page 177 of Heartache Duet

Trevor laughs, jumping onto the hood of Connor’s truck and helping me up. We sit on the edge, watching them.

Connor contemplates Mom’s words for a moment before saying, “I’ll make a deal with you. We play H.O.R.S.E around the key, and the loser has to cook dinner for the other person. Deal?”

“That’s not fair!” I shout.

“You want to play, too?” Connor yells back.

I shake my head, clamp my lips together.

Mom tells him, “You have a whole limb advantage.”

Connor rolls his eyes, then drops the ball so he can pull his right arm through the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Just so we’re clear. You’re not missing a whole limb. Just half of it. So, technically, I’m the one disadvantaged now. Are you going to suck it up or what?”

“Oh damn,” Trevor whispers next to me.

“Connor!” I gasp.

His eyes meet mine.

And then Mom—Mom laughs. This all-out, carefree laugh that has my heart soaring. “You talk a good game, mister,” she tells Connor. “But, boy, you ain’t got shit on me.” She takes the ball from Connor, moves two steps toward the basket. The ball hits the backboard and goes right in.

Connor’s mouth is so wide he could fit his giant ego in there. “Damn.”

“Damn,” Mom mocks. “You forget, I’ve been using my left hand for years now.”

“Huh,” says Connor.

“Now go get the ball, kid.”

Connor rears back. “What? You suddenly lost your legs, too? You get the ball.”

Next to me, Trevor is dying from laughing so hard.

Mom goes after the ball and calls out over her shoulder, “H.O.R.S.E is for pussies. One-on-one. First to twenty-one, Mr. Duke.”

Connor stands taller. “I’m not going to go easy on you because you’re old.”

Mom throws the ball to him, then makes her way toward us, unzipping her jacket. “I don’t expect you to!” I help her out of her coat, eyeing Connor over her shoulder.

He winks.

I give him the finger… but I’m smiling—the goofiest smile in the history of smiles.

Mom turns back to Connor. “I like my steak medium rare.” Connor bounces the ball to her. She returns it, but Connor tries to catch it with the hand trapped in his sweatshirt. “It’s not so easy now, is it?” Mom laughs out.

Trevor and I watch what can only be known as the world’s weakest one-on-one game ever. They can barely keep the ball in play, and I know that Connor’s not going anywhere near his full potential, and Mom would know that, too, but she doesn’t call him out on it. Besides, it’s hard for her to get a few words in between all their back and forth and laughter. So much laughter.

“I don’t know what Ava sees in you. You suck with your hands.”

Connor busts out a laugh. “You’re really going for the jugular now, huh?” He dribbles past her, bouncing the ball between her legs before doing a lay-up and sinking it. “If my calculations are right, it’s 20-12.” He holds the ball to his waist. “And I’m pretty sure I’m kicking your ass, Miss D.”

Mom puts a hand to her hip. “You’re right. I guess we’ll just have to come out here more and practice.”

Connor’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

Mom nods. “You think you could spin that ball on my finger with one hand?”

Connor shrugs, approaching her, and mumbles, “With our powers combined…”

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