Page 219 of Heartache Duet

“No, Ava,” he says, his tone serious. “He called about something else and just mentioned it. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, babe. Mom’s doctors are here—”

“Why?”

“It’s just a general check-up; it happens…” I continue to lie because I don’t want him worrying. “Did I not tell you? It’s been scheduled for months.”

He blows out a breath. “No, you didn’t,” he replies, his voice softening. “So, nothing’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” I assure, and add, “I’m sorry to worry you.”

He sighs. “It’s all good.”

“What are you doing, anyway?”

“I’m waiting around at the airport.”

“What time do you land?”

“Five. I’ll probably be home around eight. Dad wants to have dinner and then—”

“You’ll come over?” I ask, my smile genuine this time. “Please?”

He laughs once. “Yeah, of course.”

“Stay the night?”

“I was planning on it.”

I sigh, letting his voice fill the void in my heart. “God, I miss you,” I tell him, at the same time he says, “God, Ava, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

We both laugh into the phone, a single second of clarity in an otherwise cloudy existence.

“I have to go,” I tell him. “But I can’t wait to see you.”

“Hey, Ava?”

“Yeah?”

He’s silent a beat. “I don’t think I realized how much I loved you and how much I needed you until this weekend. You mean everything to me. And I just want you to know that.” He hangs up before I can say another word and I look at my phone, stare at it, wondering what the hell just happened. I hold a hand to my stomach, try to settle the butterflies there.

“Ava?” Trevor calls out, bringing me back to reality—a reality full of fear and uncertainty.

CONNOR

Dad’s as proud of me in person as he was on the phone, and after everything that happened with my mother, it only creates a heavier weight on my chest. I wish I could be as happy to see him as he is to see me, but there are questions, so many of them, and I don’t know where to start. But more, I don’t know if I want to.

Nothing good could possibly come from opening up the wounds of our pasts.

Nothing.

I sit at the kitchen table, watching him watch me, a smile on his face, his eyes lit up with pride. “You were perfect, Connor. Every second you were out there. Not a single mistake.”

I scarf down my meal, not bothering to answer, and look at the clock.

“Damn, did I not give you enough money to eat while you were gone?”

I almost choke on the steak and cough, thump my fist against my chest to clear it. Then I wipe my mouth with a napkin and down my entire glass of water. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I told Ava I’d come by after dinner.” And as much as I appreciate my dad, he doesn’t kill my pain the way she does. But… “I’m being rude. You went through all this trouble, and… I’m being a shit. Sorry.”

---