Page 163 of Heartache Duet

I choke on air and come back to reality. “Shut up.”

Mom angles Connor’s forearm closer to his head. “Like that.”

“Like this?” Connor asks, then mimics taking his shot. “Huh.” He stands to full height again, dropping his arms to his sides. “I’ll have to try it.”

“Yes.” Mom nods. “Try it, and when it works, credit me.”

Connor laughs. “Absolutely, Miss D.”

Mom pats his arm. “Connor, six-five, but is hoping for a growth spurt. I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Miss Diaz.”

I ask her, “Do you need me to—”

“No,” Mom interrupts. “You stay. Help him with his weak jump shot.” She goes into her room and closes the door behind her.

Trevor says, “That’s the most entertained I’ve been in years.” Then, following Mom’s lead, he goes to his room and closes the door behind him, leaving just me and Connor and, apparently, his weak jump shot.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice low. “I had no idea that’s why she wanted to see you.”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. Honestly, it was fun. She seems like she’s doing a lot better.”

“She is. We just worry about how long it’ll last, you know?”

Nodding, he looks around the room. “Well, I’m here now…”

“You are.” I try to hide my nerves. “Do you want to—”

“Yes,” he cuts in.

I laugh. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Whatever it is, yes.”

I switch on the TV and motion to the couch. “Do you want a drink?”

He sits down, his eyes on mine. “Sure.”

“Water?”

“Thanks.”

I head to the kitchen, and when I glance back at him, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of me. I return with his water. “I’ll be back,” I tell him, going to my room to throw on a sweatshirt. I notice his team jacket on my bed, and figure, fuck it. I slip it on. Sniff it. Yum. When I re-enter the living room, he has the glass to his lips, his entire body frozen except for his eyes. His eyes follow me all the way until I’m sitting next to him, my legs bent beneath me. He tilts the glass, downs the entire thing in two gulps. Then he leans back, throws his arm behind me on the couch. “You know that jacket’s got my name on the back.”

“It does?”

He nods. “Kind of makes you mine now.”

FOURTEEN

ava

I woke up this morning in bed, covers up to my chin, with Connor’s jacket still on. Which wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that the last thing I remember was sitting on the couch with Connor’s arms around me, my head on his chest, while his hand consistently found a new strand of hair to twirl between his fingers. I remember looking up at him to see him already watching me, and just like that silent moment we shared on my porch, a million unspoken words flitted between us, and the one thought that stood out the most was: I am in trouble. Deep, soul-shattering, trouble.

I don’t remember falling asleep, and I sure as hell don’t remember waking up to go to my room. When my alarm went off, I rushed out to the living room, thinking he might be there, but he wasn’t. The TV was off, the blanket was folded up on the couch, and his empty glass of water was washed and put away… and I haven’t heard from him since.

The only thing I know for sure is that going by what happened last night, it seems the doctors have finally found the right balance of medication for my mom that helps her get through the night while being able to maintain decent human functionality during the day. I’m so grateful for that because it means I get a little bit of my mother back.

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