Page 268 of Heartache Duet

“No, you don’t. There were moments where I gave up hope, not just for Mom, but for me, and—”

“I know,” he says, reaching across, the tips of his fingers taking hold of mine. Heartache forces my eyes closed. “Ava, look at me.” And hope forces them open again. “There was a night I’d left my phone in your room, and we were recording the assignment for multimedia…”

I gasp, low and slow.

“I saw everything.”

A single sob escapes me, and I cover my face with my hands. “Oh, god…” I hear him get out of his chair, but I turn away, not wanting him to see me like this. Shame floods my bloodline, closing my airways.

“Hey,” he says, his hand on my back, soothing. And then he’s turning me to him, his arms wrapping around me.

This.

This is all I’ve wanted.

All I’ve needed.

And then he holds my head to his chest, my ear over his heart, and I break when I hear it.

When I feel it.

Thump, thump.

Thump, thump.

Magic.

Another sob forms in my throat, and he holds me tighter. “I wish I’d known,” he says, his voice shaking. “I wish I could’ve seen it as it was happening, but I was so consumed with what was going on in my life at the time, and I’m sorry, Ava. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

I wipe my tears on his chest, like I’d done too many times before, and pull back, look up at him, my hands grasping onto his T-shirt. “Miss Turner told me about Wendy,” I cry. “I’m sorry, Connor. I know that you told me to trust you with all of it, and I should have. I regret it every day. But I can’t change it.”

His thumbs slide along my cheek, and he stares at me, his eyes clear puddles of devastation. “Would it have changed anything?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so,” I tell him honestly. “I think I still would’ve left. Things were so bad—”

“I get it, Ava. I do.” His brow dips. “But if we’re throwing it all out there, it took me a long time to accept that you leaving wasn’t the same as you abandoning me—”

“Oh, God, Connor,” I whisper. “I would never—”

“I know, and I don’t want that to add to your guilt. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“No. I want you to tell me.” I try to shrug out of his hold, angry at myself, but he won’t let me go. “God, I’m such a selfish brat, I didn’t even consider how that would make you feel.”

He shakes his head. “I just needed time to get answers and to process what was happening, and I didn’t want it to be a burden on what was already happening with you. We both kept things to ourselves because we wanted to protect each other. Because that’s what we thought love was. We did so much to make the other person happy that, somewhere along the way, we forgot about ourselves.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” I say, nodding, and it’s clear I’m not the only one who’s spent the time apart searching my soul for answers. I ask, hesitant, “So, how is your mom?”

He shrugs. Then he eyes me a moment, as if contemplating his next words. “I lied to you, Ava.”

I force a smile. “I thought we just went through all of this. I under—”

“No,” he cuts in. “I mean, yeah that, too, but I lied to you earlier than that. A lot earlier. When we first met, you asked if I remembered anything about what happened to me…”

I nod, my heart beating wildly.

“I lied when I told you I didn’t. Because I do. I remember it all. I even remember the toy cars I was holding onto…” He watches me, his gaze intense. “You—”

“I met her,” I rush out, realization dawning on me like a ton of bricks landing right on my chest. “After the regionals final, that box with the cars? That was her?”

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