Heartache Duet: Heartache and Hope & First and Forever

heartache duet JAY MCLEAN Copyright © 2019 by Jay McLean All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover Art: Books and Moods Formatting: Jay McLean Editor: Tricia Harden (Emerald Eyes Editing) contents Heartache And Hope Prologue 1. Connor 2. Ava 3. Connor 4. Ava 5. Connor 6. Connor 7. Ava 8. Connor 9. Ava 10. Ava 11. Connor 12. Ava 13. Connor 14. Connor 15. Ava 16. Ava 17. Connor 18. Ava 19. Ava 20. Connor 21. Ava 22. Connor 23. Ava 24. Connor 25. Connor 26. Ava 27. Connor 28. Connor 29. Ava 30. Connor 31. Connor 32. Ava 33. Connor 34. Connor 35. Connor 36. Ava 37. Connor 38. Ava 39. Ava 40. Ava 41. Ava 42. Ava 43. Connor 44. Connor 45. Ava 46. Ava 47. Connor 48. Ava 49. Connor First and Forever 1. Connor 2. Ava 3. Connor 4. Connor 5. Connor 6. Ava 7. Ava 8. Ava 9. Connor 10. Ava 11. Connor 12. Ava 13. Ava 14. Ava 15. Connor 16. Ava 17. Ava 18. Ava 19. Connor 20. Ava 21. Connor 22. Ava 23. Connor 24. Connor 25. Connor 26. Ava 27. Ava 28. Ava 29. Connor 30. Ava 31. Ava 32. Connor 33. Connor 34. Connor 35. Connor 36. Ava 37. Ava 38. Connor 39. Connor 40. Connor 41. Connor 42. Connor 43. Connor 44. Ava 45. Connor 46. Ava 47. Connor 48. Ava 49. Ava 50. Connor 51. Ava 52. Connor Epilogue Bonus Epilogue Also by Jay McLean About the Author heartache and hope HEARTACHE DUET BOOK 1 For Jordan McLean prologue One minute you’re sipping on your first beer at your first bonfire party, wearing a hoodie provided by a boy you’ve been crushing on for months. He slips his hand around your waist, pulls you closer to him. Then he dips his head, whispers into your neck, “You’re beautiful, Ava.” It’s your fifteenth birthday, and you have the world at your feet, and you watch the fire blaze in front of you, watch the embers rise, float to a new existence, and you think to yourself, This is life. Your phone rings, and you pull it out of your back pocket, see your stepfather’s name flashing on the screen, and you end the call, pocket the phone again. The boy kisses your neck, and you take another sip, your eyes drifting shut at the feel of his lips against your skin. Your phone rings again. And again. And you ignore it every time. Every single time. You move to the bed of a truck, your hands in his hair, his hands on your breasts, and you’re so drunk on desire it ONE connor LeBron James grew up poor as hell with a single mother and zero privilege. His high school was completely unheard of before he showed up with three of his buddies and took over the league. At eighteen, a senior, he went prep to pro and was drafted by the Cleveland Cavaliers. His initial contract was $18.8 million over four years. Nike had offered him more than one hundred million off the court. This was before he played a single second of professional ball. Talk about a game changer. Obviously, I’m no LeBron James. No one is. Besides being raised by a single parent, comparing myself to LeBron would be like chasing rainbows. Also, LeBron didn’t have to change schools senior year just for the slight hope of getting noticed. I walk back down the driveway for the millionth time, sweat pouring from every inch of my body, and blink away the fatigue from driving all night. Dad’s at the rear of the rental truck unloading the last of the boxes we managed to stuff in there. After this, we only