Page 12 of His Greatest Treasure

Mom’s face appears on the screen the moment I accept the call. Her grin could melt snowcaps with how warm it is. I wish I got her dimples, but she only shared her hair colour and terrible driving skills with me.

“Hej, min älskade,” she sings before blowing a kiss at the camera.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Mom? That’s all I get?”

I lift a hand to shield my eyes from the sun. “Du är dramatiskt igen.”

“That’s better, even if it is an insult. ‘Hey, Mom’ is so boring,” she says on a sigh.

“I didn’t know you were going to call today.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to look around me to notice whether I’m alone or not. “Did you not want me to call?”

“I always want to talk to you, Mamma. I just wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

“Well, I missed you today. I couldn’t wait until Nova got back to call you.”

I smile softly, fully understanding how she’s feeling. “I miss you too. Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, he’s around here somewhere. Probably tinkering around with someone that doesn’t need to be tinkered with.”

“Is he that bored?”

“Your father is always bored now. Old age is supposed to make a man settle, but not him. He would rather be on the ice risking breaking his brittle bones than snuggling with me on the couch.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. My parentshave always been ones to bicker in a way that would seem tedious but is just their love language. My dad is young at heart despite his age being in the fifties, and if he had it his way, he never would have retired. Unfortunately, regardless of whether he believes it or not, his time as a goalie is over.

“I know you’re not talking shit about me, Morgan. I’ll have you know that I’m not brittle at fucking all.”

My cheeks burn from the smile that splits my mouth at the sound of his voice. When he ducks into the view of the camera, he’s scowling, but it’s weak and disappears the moment he sees me, replaced with a grin.

The lack of wrinkles on his face should be studied, but the grey hairs streaked through the brown give away his age, even if he has perfect skin. His eyes twinkle as he looks at the camera, and my heart swells.

“Mitt hjärta,” he murmurs, calling me his heart for the millionth time in my life. “I missed your face.”

After thirty years of living in Sweden, my parents are both fluent in the native language and, more often than not, speak in Swedish as opposed to English.

While they’re both from Vancouver, I was born and raised in Malmö, Sweden, after they moved there while Mom was pregnant with me. I grew up speaking both languages and learning about two countries that each hold a significant piece of me. Our vacations to Canada were the only time I got to see where my parents grew up, but I clung to it like I’d always shared my life between both places.

Once I turned twenty-one, I made the decision to move to Canada. It wasn’t supposed to be a permanent thing, but once I met Chris and had Nova . . . it became one. I miss Sweden more than words, but I’m also happy here. I feel at peace where I am while also knowing that could change at any time.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, tucking my feet beneath me on the chair. “Mom was telling me about how you won’t sit and watch movies with her?”

He sits beside Mom on the couch now, one arm slinging over her shoulders. His eyes find hers as he smirks. “Is that so?”

“Apparently, you’d rather fix things that aren’t broken,” I add.

“Avery!” Mom scolds half-heartedly. “You tattletale.”

“It’s payback for all the times you did it when I was a kid.” I shrug.

Dad tips his chin at the phone, where Mom holds it extended in front of them both. “That’s my girl.”

“When are you coming to visit? It’s been too long since I’ve held you and my precious Nova,” Mom says.

“I don’t know. Fall break, maybe? School starts next week, and the shop is still a work in progress.”

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