His Greatest Treasure (Greatest Love #4)

Chapter 18

18

OLIVER

With a wineglass resting over the knees she has tucked into her chest, Avery watches the show with intense focus beside me. She’s the type of show watcher who doesn’t like to speak outside of commercial breaks. Focused on the current competition happening onscreen, she hasn’t looked away in minutes.

I have the opposite problem.

Every two minutes, I’m sneaking looks at her, enthralled by her love of the show. I’ve never been able to get into reality TV like this or any at all, really, but if it means time with her . . . I’ll have to start liking them.

We’re on episode four now, but it doesn’t feel like we’ve been sitting on the couch for three hours. Dinner is cleaned up and put away, and the bottle of wine is nearly empty on the coffee table. It’s comfortable. I’m relaxed, my muscles loose and pulse steady.

Avery looks beyond beautiful right now. Happy and calm, her emotions open and loud. Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to look away. It’s been years since I’ve gotten the chance to see her this way, and I’m downright feasting on it.

Her hair was dripping wet when I arrived at her house, but it’s dried completely now, the long length of it curled at the bottom and frizzy at the top. Still dressed in those nearly see-through silk pajamas, her long legs are exposed, thigh muscles taut when she tucks one closer into her chest and rests her chin atop it.

I stare and stare, knowing I need to look away but not able to bring myself to do just that. Every flutter of her light brown lashes brings my focus to the pale blue colouring of the thin skin beneath her eyes. I get the overwhelming urge to tell her to sleep so the skin returns to its normal colour.

“Do you want more wine?” she asks with a turn of her head in my direction.

I look at the TV, finding an advertisement for deodorant playing. “No. I’m good, thanks. You can finish it.”

“Trying to get me drunk?”

“If it would help you get some sleep tonight, then sure.”

She stares at me for a minute, no doubt trying to make sense of my comment. “I sleep fine.”

“Alright.”

“Do I not look like I sleep fine? Should I be offended?”

“Would it be such a bad thing if I just cared about your well-being?”

“Maybe. Depending on why you suddenly give a shit.”

She turns back to the TV, leaving the wine bottle where it is. I lean my head against the back of the couch and sigh. My inability to not piss her off at every turn has made me question whether or not I’ve been single for so long is because I can’t word my sentences for shit.

“I’ve always given a shit, Avery. I just . . .”

I place my glass beside the bottle on the table and run a hand over my head before sitting back. Shifting my body toward hers, I risk it and cup her shin. The skin is so soft and smooth I almost choke on nothing.

She speaks before I do, her eyes dropping to focus on where I touch her. I wait for her to shove my hand away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she covers my fingers with hers and leaves them there, not squeezing, just holding.

“You have a hard time showing it?” She finishes my statement for me.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. The only person I know how to show affection or care toward are my parents and Nova. Maybe I’m too guarded, or I’ve just been hurt too many times,” she admits, frowning.

“Nova’s dad the one who hurt you?”

Her laugh is nothing more than an angry huff. “Probably. Or I was already damaged goods long before he showed up.”

“Don’t call yourself damaged goods. You’re not damaged,” I grit out, my fingers flexing over her leg, drifting to brush her calf. “There’s nothing wrong with not keeping your heart on your sleeve.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “I want to put all the blame on him, but I also teach Nova about personal accountability. It would be hypocritical to not take some of the blame for how I am now. Back when I was a kid, it didn’t matter who you were, I would have showered you in hugs and attention.”

“Then take accountability for some of it, but don’t let him off the hook. Don’t dismiss the way he hurt you because you want to be a good mom. You’re already one of those. And people are allowed to change. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

“Is that an order, Lieutenant?” she asks softly, almost teasingly.

“Yeah, it’s an order,” I confirm.

Her eyes sink their hooks into mine and keep them there, forcing us to miss the recap of the show now echoing through the speakers. I’d ignore the entire thing if it meant I could keep looking at her like this. Like the last thing I want to do is blink and lose this connection.

I’m falling right back into the feelings I had when I was a teenager, except now, they’re swelling and growing into the kind that would have terrified me back then.

Right person, wrong time . . .

I sound like my mother.

“What did he do to you, Avery?” I ask despite knowing the risks that come with the question.

The chance that she could shut down and lock up the fortress of her mind that I’ve gotten a peek inside of tonight.

She surprises me when she lets me continue looking. “Other than the constant belittling and lack of support, I’m sure he was a fine boyfriend. Unfortunately, I was too hurt by all of the bad to make light of any of the good. If it was ever there in the first place.”

I wet my lips and glide my palm up over her knee and to the bottom of her thigh, leaving it there. She keeps her hand on mine, but her fingers curl over it now, like she doesn’t want to accidentally let go.

“How long were you together before . . .”

“Six months. It was a broken condom that he never told me about that led to me missing my period and taking a test. Full transparency, I expected him to leave after I told him, but he surprised me by staying. He made this big deal out of it too, as if staying to father his own child was worthy of a damn Nobel Prize or something. My dad would never admit it, but I think he threatened him to make him stay. Sure, we were still getting to know each other when I got pregnant, but Chris was very clear that he didn’t want kids. He didn’t tell me about the broken condom because he was hoping it wouldn’t have mattered. I doubt he thought the one time would lead to a kid.”

My distaste for the guy turns into a hatred that sears me from the inside out. “Why didn’t you go back home? Your parents would have helped you, right?”

“They asked me the same thing. Both my mom and dad wanted me to go home and raise Nova in Sweden with them. But Chris wouldn’t come, and I understood his decision because I know firsthand how hard it is to move that far away from the place you were raised. I wanted Nova to grow up with a father figure, and he’s given her that.”

“And what has he given you, Avery? Other than your daughter.”

She diverts her eyes, staring at the TV as her hold on my hand grows tighter. The fog that slips over her gaze isn’t something I’d ever like to see again.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” she whispers.

“How long have you been alone, princess? How long has it been since you were someone’s priority?”

Her admission sears through me. “I don’t know.”

I want to scold her for not reaching out to me when she was struggling. For not coming to me for help when she was stuck picking up the scraps that Chris left behind for her, but I keep quiet. Blaming her for what she went through is a bad move that even someone as lacking in conversation skills as me can recognize.

“That’s over now. You have family here now. Mom, Aunt Ava, Addie. If you need anything, you ask for it, and they’ll give it without question,” I declare.

She turns her head slowly, and our eyes clash. “Are you included in that family? I don’t want to expect anything, but Nova likes you, and?—”

I slide my hand out from under hers and fight back a wince at the rejection that sparks in her stare. I’m quick to move again, desperate to help clear it all up for her.

Dropping my arm so it curls over her shoulder, I pull her close. She melts into me, not fighting the new position as I swirl my fingertips along her bare skin, drawing soothing circles.

“I’m not tucking myself into the same category as everyone else. I don’t want to only be called when you need help with Nova. Yeah, you let me know when you need me for that, but you deserve to be someone’s priority, and I’ve made you mine. That means you call me or bring yourself here to my front door anytime Avery the woman needs something, and not just Avery the mom. That clear?”

“I’m always Avery the mom, Oliver. Sometimes there isn’t a divide,” she murmurs, her legs stretching out before she goes limp against me.

“What about right now? Who have you been tonight?”

“Right now . . . right now, I’m just me.”

I brush my mouth over the top of her head, taking my fill of the moment. “Not just you. That word doesn’t belong in that statement. You’re you, Avery the woman.”

And I make a promise to myself that I’ll do everything I can to keep her here with me. Even if that means opening myself up in a way that should have me running in the opposite direction.