Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1) - Jay McLean Page 0,2

the outside, and a whole lot on the inside.

Dad tries to hand him a twenty, but Trevor shoves his hands in his pockets, declining. “You’re good, sir. I just saw him trying to lift more than all our weights combined. Didn’t want him hurting himself, you know?”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Trevor eyes me. “A minor, huh?”

I nod, face heating with embarrassment.

“High school?”

“Yep.”

“West High?”

“Nah. St. Luke’s Academy.”

Trevor’s eyes widen. “Oh yeah? That’s my old stomping ground.” He takes a quick glance around our two bed, one bath, paint-peeling-off-the-walls rental, and all our belongings, focusing a few seconds on the framed Larry Bird jersey. When his eyes meet mine again, he’s smirking. “Let me guess. Basketball scholarship?”

“Yeah,” Dad and I answer at the same time. Dad asks, “You play ball?”

Trevor looks down at his feet. “Football. Well, I used to. Not so much anymore.”

“You in college?” Dad asks him, and I hold back from doing the whole ohmygod Dad stahhp, you’re so embarrassing! thing and keep my mouth shut.

“Nah,” says Trevor. “I just work full-time now. Got my own company.” He pulls out a card from his wallet and hands it to Dad. “Electrician. If you need anything, my number’s on there.”

“You got it,” Dad asserts.

Trevor smiles at the both of us. “It’s been fun, but I gotta get going. Hope y’all settle in all right.”

“Hey, thanks again,” I tell him.

Dad says, “Are you sure you won’t take any—”

Trevor lifts his hand, already halfway to the door. “I’m good.”

“Well, if you won’t take money, maybe come around later this week. I’ll grill some steaks for us.”

Trevor stops, his hand on the door, and turns to us, his grin from ear-to-ear. “Now that is an offer too good to refuse.”

He’s gone a second later, his footsteps heavy on the porch.

Dad waits for him to be out of earshot before stating, “Good kid.”

“Yeah.”

“Good beer, too.”

I clamp my lips together.

He laughs. “Come with me?”

“Where?”

He places the empty bottle on a box labeled Boy Spawn and heads out the door.

I follow as he leads me to a hunk of metal on four wheels.

“So…?” Dad asks, his eyes wide and waiting. It doesn’t take long for his face to switch from his usual overtired, overworked, over-the-every-day-struggles-of-life frown into a full-blown grin. All it took was a twitch of my lips, a semblance of a smile. ”Do you like it?”

He’s asking the wrong question, because honestly? Do I like it? No. The car’s a piece of shit. Way beyond its expiration. Beaten to death and then brought back to life only to be beaten again. Rust forms the majority of the two-door’s roof. Door handles have been replaced with what I assume are coat hangers. The rear windshield… well, there is no rear windshield. There’s just black plastic in its place, so… again… do I like it? Fuck no.

Do I appreciate it? Hell yes. “Dad, are you serious?” My grin matches his now. “You didn’t have to. I mean, you shouldn’t have. Things are hard enough with the move and—”

“Connor,” he cuts in, shushing me with one hand, while a finger of the other runs along the dirt of the car’s hood. “It’s my job to worry about what’s too hard and what isn’t.” His shoulders heave with his inhale as he focuses on the perfectly clean line he’s just created. When his gaze meets mine again, I can see the exhaustion in his eyes. He’s worn out. Done. He tries to cover it up with the same smile he’s kept on, but I can tell it’s waning. Slowly. Surely.

I inspect the car closer. Or at least pretend to. Because my mind is elsewhere, running on empty, doing a play-by-play of every possible scenario my future has waiting for me. And not even my entire future. Just tomorrow.

The first day of senior year is daunting for anyone, but the first day as the new guy in a new school full of rich kids who I’m sure can sniff a poor, scholarship kid from a mile away? Yeah, tomorrow’s going to suck. And showing up in this car? It’s going to be hell… but there’s no way I’m telling Dad that. Or anyone else. Because the truth is, I don’t have anyone else. It’s 598 miles from Tallahassee, Florida, to Shemeld, North Carolina. Physically. But for my so-called friends and teammates back there, I may as well have moved to Mars. The second rumors started to spread about my moving for a better chance at my dreams was