Page 42 of Heartache Duet

I slip on a pair of jeans and a Texas A&M T-shirt, and then rip off the T-shirt and get into a fitted tank, something a little more feminine.

I tidy up the house a little, ignoring Mom watching me. She’s sitting on the couch with a magazine on her lap, smirking, and how is it that she’s so calm and I’m the one in a panic?

My phone barely rings before I answer it. “Hello?”

“What’s wrong?” Connor rushes out. In the background, I can hear a bunch of boys hollering, their voices echoing. He’s still at school, in the locker room. “Ava! What happened?”

I run to my room, close the door, and lean against it. “My mom wants to meet you…”

He huffs out a breath, static filling my ears. “Is that it?”

“What do you mean is that it? She wants to meet you. This afternoon. Like, now, Connor.”

“Jesus Christ, Ava, your text sounded like something bad happened. Calm the hell down.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Hey, what should I call her? Like… something military or…”

“I don’t know. Miss Diaz will do.”

“Cool. I’m on my way.”

I lower my voice so my mother can’t hear me. “Okay, but hurry, because I don’t know how long she’ll be like this.”

Connor chuckles. “I’ll break every speed limit.”

“And text me when you’re leaving your house. Don’t knock. Knocking gets her—she gets—”

“I’ll text.”

“And remember what I said about her short-term memory, she might ask the same—”

“I got it.”

“And don’t stare when you first see her because—”

“Ava, I’m not a fucking asshole.”

My eyes drift shut, my phone held tight to my ear. I release a staggering breath. “I know, I’m just… just…”

“Nervous? And scared?” he asks quietly.

I nod, even though he can’t see it.

“It’s okay to feel like that. You have every right to. The world hasn’t been good to you guys, and I get that. But I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think I could handle it. So, don’t worry, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and whisper, “Please hurry.”

“I’ll travel through time to get to you.”

* * *

Connor’s on my doorstep, freshly showered, dark jeans and a light blue Henley to match his eyes and damn, boy. He ignores me standing right in front of him, his smile purely for my mother. “Ava didn’t tell me she had a sister.”

Mom giggles—actually giggles. “Ava didn’t tell me how handsome you were. Come, come,” she orders, moving toward the kitchen.

Connor says, stepping into the house, “I should’ve brought flowers or something. I wasn’t thinking.”

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