Page 292 of Heartache Duet

In that house are those stairs, the ones I climbed right before I found my mother—

“Ava,” Connor says, his voice quiet as he squats beside me. “Are you coming, or…?”

I could lie and pretend as if I’m not at all affected by being here. “Did you buy this house, Connor, because I—”

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

I search his face for clues as to why we’re here. Blue-blue eyes stare right back at me, giving nothing away. “What are we doing here, baby?”

His smile is slow, spreading wide, and I can’t help the way my lips tug at the corners, a short burst of laughter leaving my chest. “You’re so cute,” I say, taking his offered hand and finally getting out of the truck. “And maybe a little crazy.”

“Crazy about you, sure.”

“Lame,” I retort, holding his arm to my chest.

He laughs once. “You love my lame ass.”

“I do,” I admit, as he takes us not to the front door but to the side gate that leads to the backyard. The dock. The lake. The last time we were here, we were drunk, both on alcohol and our love for each other. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

“You’ll see,” he says, and we bypass the main house, pool, poolhouse, and greenhouse until the yard opens up and the lake… My chest tightens at the unfamiliar fondness that overwhelms my emotions. I miss this house. This lake. But most of all, I miss the joy that lived here, the happiness that faded once my mother returned, wounded and woeful.

She’s not that same woman anymore, and maybe that’s why… why it feels different now.

“Connor,” I gasp when the patio comes into view. Above the lake’s stillness, there’s a patio table with a large arrangement of flowers, but that’s not what has my heart stopping, my breath catching in my throat. The deck is bordered with twinkling fairy lights and Mason jars filled with magic.

With hope.

On one of my particularly low days, Connor—as always—had found a way to turn it around. He’d left me in the darkness of our bedroom to cry it out, and when he’d returned less than an hour later, he had dozens of Mason jars, each one filled with water and what looked like different colored fireflies. In reality, they were the liquid from glow sticks, but they’d had the same effect, and then he’d lain beside me on the bed, silently holding my hand as the room illuminated.

Connor Ledger, everyone—my magician.

Now, he holds my hand the same way, silently looking out over the lake.

“This is beautiful, number three,” I murmur, and at his non-response, I slowly turn to him.

He smiles, but it’s forced.

“What’s wrong?”

He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. “So… I have a confession…”

I side-eye him. “Speak…”

“I lied earlier.”

“About…?”

“I did buy this house.”

My eyes widen and fill with tears. “Connor…”

“We don’t have to live in it,” he rushes out. “It can sit here empty for the rest of its days for all I care, but… I don’t know, Ava.” Only when his shoulders drop do I realize how tense he’d been. I was so deep in my own thoughts, my own emotions, that I never picked up on it. “This was your mom’s house. Your grandparents’. Your great-grandparents’. This place is part of your family, your legacy. It belongs to you. To you, Trevor, and your mom.” His eyes drift shut, and he murmurs words too quiet to make out. When he opens them again, they land right on mine—bright blue against the setting sun. “I know it’s not all good memories for you here, so…” He shrugs. “I wanted to replace all those bad ones with one good one.” He blows out a breath, his cheeks puffing with the force. “Here goes nothing…” he mumbles, and then he’s gone, moving to the patio table and reaching underneath. For a long moment, he fiddles with something there, while I stand in silence, my heart racing, my mind spinning in circles.

He bought me this house. This home. This legacy…

My eyes are so filled to the brim with liquid hope that I can’t even make out what he’s doing anymore. It’s not until he returns to me that I blink, blink, blink, releasing the tears I’ve been holding on to since I realized where we were going. Only those tears stemmed from fear, while these tears fall from love.

From joy.

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