Page 287 of Heartache Duet

For us.

But I worry.

Because after this, it’s the NBA draft.

Andwedon’tknow where he’s going.

I still have another year left at Duke, andIdon’t know if I can leave my mom. She’s so settled at Sunshine Oak, and I…

I’m scared of the future.

CONNOR

Sweat drips from my brow and into my eyes, and I blink hard, try to clear my vision. We knew it’d be a tough game. Texas Tech always comes out fighting, and we were prepared to go toe-to-toe all damn night. And we have. I can’t even count how many times the lead has changed. But now with less than five seconds on the clock, Texas is up by one and we haven’t been able to break away from their defense long enough to score. With the ball out of bounds, I take a moment to breathe and press my hands to my knees.

Behind me, I can hear them.

All of them.

Ava, Trevor, Miss D, my dad, and his husband. “Boo, Ledger!” Ava screams, and I inhale that sound into my bloodline.

“You good, Ledger?” Coach calls from the sidelines. “One more play, baby! One more play!”

I nod, more to myself than anyone else, and ignore the ache pinching every nerve, every muscle. I stand to full height, guarding my opponent, my eyes on a Texas Tech player with the ball at the sideline. The ref blows his whistle, and my heart picks up when the ball comes toward me. The world is silent while I wait, every millisecond making a difference. With my pulse the only sound I hear, I lift a hand in front of my opponent, the tips of my fingers making contact with the ball, and thenit’s on. The crowdroarsand I’m chasing after the ball, pushing off my feet with more strength and determination than I’ve ever had. The ball meets my palm, and then I’m in control, listening to the world around meerupt. I look up, two more steps. I can make it two more steps, but I can also hear my opponent only half a step behind me. I look at the basket, then down at my hand, and I see it…

Theirnames.

Myreason.

My shoes squeak against the hardwood, my knees bending with muscle memory. Arms come up, elbows bend, and time slows the second the ball’s out of my hand.

It spins through the air, hitting the backboard first, then the rim, again and again, and then—

The buzzer sounds, and I’m being tackled to the ground, covered in blue and white.

I didn’t see it.

Not with my own eyes.

But when the Duke Fight Song plays, I know I’d sunk the shot...

Ajump shot.

AVA

We stay in the arena while most people leave, watching the cleaners start sweeping up the mess of blue and white left behind. Mom’s next to me, rehashing every play Connor was somehow involved in with Corey and Michael, and Trevor… Trevor’ssomewhere; I just don’t know where.

I alternate between laughing and crying and laughing some more, and my cheeks hurt with the force of my smile. I’d been tempted, so tempted, to run onto the court the second he made the shot, but Trevor held me back. It was Connor’s time, he reminded me, and it was important he celebrate it with his team. And he did. For a couple of minutes. And then his eyes found me like they always do, and he approached, his cheeks flushed. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes bright against the arena lights, and he looked at me, shouted over the crowd, “Was I money or what?”

“You were so fucking money!”

His gaze shifted to my mom, and he quirked an eyebrow, cocky. “Weak jump shot, huh?” And then hewhooped, his back arching, his fists out in front of him, and I loved him so much more at that moment, loved the way he let himself go, let himselflive.

And to think that once upon a time, someone tried to take that life away from him...

I cried the second I was in his arms, his sweat soaking into my clothes. “Say it,” he ordered.

I pulled back, just so I could look at him. “I love you, number three!”

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