Page 41 of His Greatest Treasure

“No you won’t.”

“At the risk of another four-day shift? I’d do just about anything to avoid that.”

“Alright, fine. You win. Now, are you going to come out with us tomorrow? You’ve avoided after-shift drinks for a long damn time.”

He plugs the kitchen sink and squirts soap into it before turning on the faucet. With a hip against the counter as the basin fills, he watches me stand and carry my bowl over.

“All I want is to finish and go home to bed, Brent. Drinks don’t appeal to me.”

“This have anything to do with the drive-by today? Or the woman and kid that were in your yard?”

“It’s got to do with how tired I am.”

It’s not the whole truth but not a full lie either. With my stomach full, my exhaustion is that much tougher to ignore. Brent is an important part of our squad and a good friend, but he wants answers to questions I don’t have yet.

I’m not the most open person to begin with, and this bro-to-bro shit he wants to happen right now isn’t my favourite. I deal with it when it comes to my brother and my two closest friends, but they’re different. I’ve never had another choice but to share, and we were doing it since we were old enough to talk in the first place.

Adams raises his hands in surrender before shoving the stack of waiting dishes into the bubbled sink, the water splashing a bit. “Alright. Keep it to yourself for now. But next time?—”

“Won’t be a next time.”

“Good. Don’t flash personal things in front of us if you don’t want us asking about them.”

I stretch my neck, feeling the strain in the muscles. To anyone but my team, I wouldn’t have been flashing anything with that quick drive down my street. Brent only feels that way because he knows where I live, as most of everyone here has been over on the occasional moral building night.

“You won’t even let us know her name?” he asks after a beat, clearly not content with his own words. “Just give me something. If it really was nothing, then say it and mean it.”

I’d tell him to get fucked if I wasn’t already speaking despite my best efforts. “Her name’s Avery.”

“Pretty.” He smirks.

I glare. “Don’t fucking smirk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking about her. Get her out of your head,” I demand.

His laugh is loud and pisses me off. “You got it, Lieutenant. But for the record, I think you’ve got bigger problems than me if you’re acting like this because of a woman.”

“Noted.”

I drop the bowl in the sink and leave him alone to clean the dinner mess, his laugh nipping at my heels the entire way to the bunkroom.

Only once I’m falling into an open bed and closing my eyesdo I stop hearing him. Instead, I’m haunted by images of Jell-O, eating pizza on the couch, and two girls filling my yard with more laughter than there’s ever been.

15

AVERY

Boots stompon my pretty tile flooring, leaving dirty prints as the air-conditioning technician leaves the shop for the millionth time this morning. It’s still hot and sticky in here over an hour after he arrived, warm air flowing through the vents instead of cold.

I puff out a breath and bundle my hair into my fist before tying it up and off my warm neck. My shorts and loose tee should have kept me cool in theory, but I doubt anything less than walking around stark naked would help at this point.

The smell of fresh paint and wood fills the shop. The weak, quivering muscles in my arms are the aftermath of a full day of painting. It’s still not done, but if I think about coming back tomorrow to finish, I’ll collapse and never get up again.

I plan to spend the entire weekend at the shop, hoping and praying that sooner rather than later, I’ll be able to open instead of continuing to piss money like I’ve got an endless supply of it. The reality is so much more depressing.

Nova doesn’t love it here because it’s boring in its current state, but I’ve kept her busy today with painting the cooler room walls while we wait for Chris to show up. I gave her full creativefreedom, knowing she needed it to keep distracted from her father’s tardiness.

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