His Greatest Treasure (Greatest Love #4)

Chapter 13

13

AVERY

I keep an ear open so I can hear Oliver and Nova talk as I take two glasses from the cupboard and fill them with the jug of filtered water from the fridge. Dew collects along the edges of the glasses, leaving my hands wet when I carry them out to the dining table. I get one of Nova’s juice boxes next—the kind with so much sugar she only gets them on nights like tonight—and set it beside the waters.

“Do you like being a firefighter?” Nova asks when I join them again, seemingly walking into their already sparking conversation.

“Yes.”

“Are you strong?”

“I think so.”

She hums, and I imagine she’s tapping her chin in thought. “Can you carry a person?”

“Yes.”

“Four?” Nova gasps.

Oliver’s chuckle is low, almost non-existent, but it makes me shiver. Fuck . “Two, maybe. Not four.”

“My dad can carry me .”

The pride in her voice makes my eyes prickle, any shivering non-existent now. Chris would lose his shit if he knew Oliver was here right now. He’d be pounding on my door in half the normal time it takes to drive from Surrey with a scowl and orders for Oliver to leave.

It wouldn’t matter if it was a harmless meal. Not to my insecure, selfish ex. When it comes to Nova and me, we’re possessions. Two trophies that he likes kept on his shelf, close enough for others to stare at but never for him to truly care for. In his eyes, we both belong to him regardless of our relationship status.

I struggled with that realization for years, thinking that I could somehow change him. Bring out the thought and care that I wished lived inside of him. But, surprise, just like every single time a woman has told herself that she’s the chosen one who can change a man who fundamentally doesn’t know how to give us what we want, I was let down epically.

A person can only take so many years of being pushed aside, left to struggle on her own, before she grows tired of it and rebels. For me, that was four years ago. Five too late.

“Avery?”

I clench my fingers around nothing and whip to face Oliver. No longer in the living room with Nova, he’s in the doorway separating the kitchen from the main living area. The space isn’t huge, but it still isn’t small. Yet with him crowding the doorway, suddenly, the kitchen is the size of a shoebox.

“Is the pizza here?” I ask tightly.

“No.”

I dust my palms down my thighs. “Should be soon.”

“You mad at me about the pool still?”

Good. He thinks my mood is from earlier. “Yeah. My entire backyard is soaked in gelatine.”

“You can use mine. I’m off the next two days, but it’s yours if you want it.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He reaches to scratch the back of his neck. “There are blow-ups. A frog for Nova. ”

I pause, getting the weirdest urge to rub at my chest. “Why a frog?”

“I noticed her shirt at the Huttons’. Frogs all over it.”

“They’re her favourite. Frogs and lizards. She’s been asking me to get her own for months.”

The info dump bubbles out of me. I’m not sure why I’m sharing details, but once I start, I don’t want to stop. The only people who’ve wanted to hear them for a long time now are my parents.

Oliver leans a hip against the door, his arms folded across his intimidatingly huge chest. “Are you going to get her one?”

“I should. But I can’t.”

“You don’t like reptiles,” he states.

“Never have.”

“Her dad?” he asks so simply, as if it’s nothing but a fleeting question.

I stiffen, my walls rebuilding brick by brick until I don’t fear him jumping headfirst into my thoughts. “Her dad doesn’t have the ability to care for her and a pet.”

He can barely take care of himself.

“Is that why you aren’t together anymore?”

“It’s one reason in a long list of others.”

Before Oliver can reply, the doorbell rings, and I’m rushing out of the room, not giving a shit about how ridiculous I must look for hightailing it out of there. God, I’m a mess.

“Pizza’s here, Mom!” Nova squeals, nose smooshed to the front window.

“Want to pick a movie for us to watch?” I ask her.

She’s quick to agree, diving from the couch to the small rack of DVDs beneath the television. “Yep!”

The pizza delivery boy is waiting on the other side of the door when I whip it open and snag the boxes from his hands. He tells me the total for all the food, and I leave him there while I drop the boxes on the coffee table and grab my wallet. Oliver’s voice stalls my movements.

“Have a good night. Thanks.”

The door clicks shut, and I glare the entire way back to it. Oliver turns the lock on the door the way I did when he arrived and shakes his head as I stop in front of him.

“I’ll eat most of the food. It’s not a big deal,” he grumbles.

“I didn’t need you to pay for that.”

“You didn’t. I paid anyway.”

My neck hurts from craning it back so much to meet his stare, but I’m trying to prove a point, so I tip it back even more, narrow my eyes further, and tug at the hem of my sweatshirt to keep from shoving him out the door after the delivery boy.

“This isn’t a date,” I argue.

A muscle above his eye twitches. “I’m well aware of that.”

“So don’t do that again. Next time, I’ll pay.”

I realize after I speak that I just insinuated there would be a second time, but it’s already out there, and I can’t take it back. Not without stumbling over my words.

“Fine,” he says, not mentioning my mess-up before brushing past me, the heat from his body scorching my arm.

The pizza boxes on the table don’t stay there long. He lifts them with little effort and carries them to the kitchen. Then I hear the cupboards opening one by one.

I let my shoulders fall forward slightly and follow him, tossing a glance at Nova as she continues to pick between two movies. Lady and the Tramp and Cars , the same two she’s debated on every night since we moved here.

“The plates are to your left,” I say, stepping into the kitchen. At least I’ve unpacked most of the kitchen by now.

Oliver looks at me over his shoulder for a brief second and then opens the right cupboard. He grabs three plates and carries them to the table, setting them beside the two boxes and white container with chicken wings inside.

“One is Hawaiian, Nova’s choice, and the other is three meat. I didn’t know if you still liked the same pizza after all these years, but I forgot to ask earlier,” I admit, feeling almost nervous .

“I do.” His throat bobs as he surveys the boxes. “I still like the same, I mean.”

A burst of warmth surges through me that I try to ignore. “Well, help yourself. Nova’s picking a movie. Our cable hasn’t been hooked up yet, so we’re stuck watching one of the few disks we own.”

“Why isn’t your cable set up?”

I peel open the top box, thankful it’s the ham and pineapple as I take a slice for Nova. “It’s been a struggle to get the company out. They’ve cancelled a few times so far.”

When he scowls, I duck into the living room and get Nova set up on her beanbag chair. She’s already got the DVD in the ancient-looking player I found at the thrift shop, and as the opening credits pop up onscreen, I hand her her plate.

Turning from her to head back to grab my own, I stumble at the sight of Oliver behind me, one plate in each hand. My mouth runs dry when he extends the one with three pieces of pizza, all meat.

“No pineapple, right?” he asks.

“No pineapple.” I take the plate from him and sit on the couch. “Thank you.”

He grunts in response, his eyes taking in the space in a way that shows he hadn’t really before. The boxes lined up against the walls have me feeling a bit self-conscious, but I’ve been knocking out as much unpacking as possible in whatever free time I have. The place feels cluttered and unorganized, but I remind myself it’ll be better soon.

For now, the furniture, empty shelves, and full boxes will have to do.

“What company are you using for cable?” he asks after I swallow my first bite of pizza.

Nova glides greasy fingers over the DVD remote and chooses the Play option on the TV. The Cars opening scene fills the screen, and Lightning McQueen’s mantra floats through the speaker before I mutter off the name of the cable company to Oliver.

He hasn’t taken a bite of his food. If it were a person, it’d have shrivelled at his glare. “Did they say why they couldn’t come out sooner?”

“No. Just that every time they’re set out to come, something’s come up.”

It’s bullshit. But the only thing fighting them on it will do is piss them off enough they never come. There are a few different ones in Vancouver, but this one’s the cheapest. Maybe that’s for a reason.

Oliver grunts. I take it as an answer, considering how often he does it.

“I miss my cartoons,” Nova says between bites of her pizza. “We don’t have lots of movies. And Mom can’t watch her show now.”

Oliver gives Nova his full attention. “What’s your mom’s show?”

“ Survivor .”

Discomfort twists my insides, growing worse with every bit of my life Oliver gets exposed to. “You’ll get your cartoons back soon, mitt hj?rta . Promise.”

“What does that name mean?” Oliver asks.

I busy myself with picking off a piece of crumbled bacon from my pizza to keep from looking at him. “My heart.”

He doesn’t need to know that I call Nova my heart because my dad’s been calling me that for as long as I can remember. My past isn’t his concern.

“And the name you called me the other day?”

“I didn’t call you a name,” I lie.

He turns his attention to my daughter. “Nova?”

“What name?”

That’s my girl.

Surprisingly, he lets it go. “You have an accent. I couldn’t figure out what it was before.”

“Yeah, that happens when you grow up in Sweden. I’ve had one my entire life. Including the last time I was here.”

Awkward tension vibrates in the room at the reminder of the last time we saw one another. It was so, so long ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Maddox’s hockey drama, Jamie’s broken ankle, Cooper’s art shows, Tinsley’s boxing classes.

Oliver everywhere but where I was.

“I didn’t notice it much back then,” he admits bluntly.

It burns when it shouldn’t. “Why would you have? We weren’t close.”

“I wasn’t outgoing then. Didn’t make a lot of conversation with anyone but Cooper, Maddox, and Jamie.”

“How is Jamie doing? We watch his games, but it’s not the same as talking in person. I didn’t grab a moment with him at dinner.” I change the subject, abandoning the prior one.

He shifts, knees spreading half an inch. I don’t dare look away from the TV. “Jamie’s good. Lively. Enjoying the game still. That hasn’t changed. He hasn’t.”

“Is he seeing anyone?”

“Why are you asking?” he asks a bit harshly.

I cock my head and raise a brow. “Everyone seems to have someone now. That’s why I’m asking.”

“I don’t,” he bites out.

I stumble over what to say back, coming up blank. Then a question just . . . tumbles free. “Are you mad about that? Do you want someone too?”

My eyes go wide when he jolts off the couch and rubs a hand over his scruffy jaw. The veins that bulge beneath his skin are provocative as they flex and pulse, and I stare at them for a moment too long.

“I have to go to the washroom,” he mutters before stepping into the kitchen, his plate clattering on the countertop.

It doesn’t matter that he didn’t answer my question. The answer is obvious with his speedy takeoff. If he does want something with someone, it certainly isn’t me, and that’s good.

We wouldn’t work anyway.