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I try to go back to a different time, a different life. Clearing my throat, I adjust on his lap until I’m sideways so I can look at him when I speak. My arm around his neck, I say, “When she was home before her last deployment, we sat out here, and we talked about Karen being boy-crazy.”
Connor nods, his smile widening when his eyes focus on my lips, at the way they turn up at the memory. It’s so pure—the way he looks at me—as if he’s happy just because I am. “What did she have to say about that?”
“She said that we were too young for love,” I tell him. “And she said that the only fear she’s ever had is that she won’t be around to watch me grow, to watch me fall in love for the first time.” I choke on the memory and the recollection of what she said next. Because I feel it in my heart. I feel it in Connor’s. With my eyes on his, I don’t hide my tears when I say, “She said that her hope for me was that I’d find a boy who would hold me through my pain and lift me through my triumphs. Who would love unconditionally. And she hoped that I would understand what that meant—love—in every sense of the word. But I didn’t know, Connor…”
“Know what?” he asks, his thumbs swiping at my cheeks.
“I didn’t know it would feel like this. Like I didn’t have a choice.”
“In love?”
“I don’t think we can choose the direction in which our heart beats. Because I didn’t want to fall in love with you. I didn’t want to fall in love at all. But then you came along and… and I told you early on that I was falling for you, but I lied. I was already there. And now I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. I can’t think or breathe or move or live a single second without you infiltrating my mind, and I know that that’s wrong, this… obsession I have with you… but there it is.” I swallow the outcome of my confessions, keep my eyes on his. “And here we are.”
TWENTY-FOUR
connor
We stay at the lake for hours while Ava tells me only the good memories she has of her mom, and I listen intently, making sure to pay attention to every word, every syllable that falls from her lips. I watch her smile. I watch the tears fall. I listen to her laugh, and I listen to her cry. And I get lost in all the different sides of Ava; quirky and confident, and vulnerable and sad, and I fall deeper in love with all the different versions of her.
We catch a cab home, both of us knowing what’s ahead, at least for tonight, and neither of us can keep our hands and mouths off each other.
When we get there, I walk up my driveway with her on my back as she chuckles into my neck. I say, “My dad’s at work tonight, so…”
She jumps down when we get to the door. “So… we can talk loudly.”
“Yeah.” My grin is stupid. “Conversations are neat.”
We head straight for my room, and I close and lock the door behind me. Ava says, “I thought you said your dad was working?”
I shrug. “Habit.”
Ava sits on the edge of my bed, starts removing her jacket, and a glass flask of whiskey falls to the floor. “I’d forgotten about this.”
“Did you steal that from Rhys?”
She shrugs. “I got it for Trevor.” She looks up at me. “But we could put it to use considering I technically don’t have to get home until tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll get the glasses.”
When I return, two whiskey glasses in hand, Ava’s stripped out of most of her clothes. In only a tank top, bra, and underwear, she holds the lip of the flask to her lips, sipping gently.
“You couldn’t even wait for me?”
Another shrug and she offers me the flask. I leave the glasses on my desk and sit next to her. After a swig, I hand it back. Her head tilts back, the muscles in her throat contracting when she swallows. I can’t help it; I press my open mouth there, loving the way her back arches to give me better access. She moans, her hands going to my hair as I slide my hand up her top, cupping her bra-covered breast. “Connor?” she breathes out.
I make my way up her neck until my mouth finds hers and I kiss her, my tongue roaming lazily because unlike every other time before, we have hours to explore, to tease.
“Connor,” she repeats, pushing on my shoulders.
I raise my eyebrows in question.
“I have a question,” she says, and I nod, adjusting the bulge in my pants. “Why have you still got so many clothes on?”
I chuckle under my breath and settle back against the wall. I take a swig of the whiskey. “I’m just trying to take my time. Enjoy this moment with you.”
She exhales through her nose and then moves to straddle me. Hands linked at my nape, she says, “I’m sorry about your season.”
I shrug. “It’s done. But hey, it means I have a bit more time on my hands. At least with games. I still want to get some good training time in if that’s okay.”
