Page 46 of His Greatest Treasure

“I haven’t thought about what I deserve in a long time. I’m not sure now is the best time for it,” she admits on a soft exhale.

“If not now, then when? When she’s grown and you’ve been alone for years?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“That’s not fair to you, princess.”

“Parenthood’s hardly ever fair.”

Her shoulders drop, and the sight of it has me moving to the counter. My hips dig into the edge as I stand opposite her and set my hands on it. She watches me move without speaking a word, and I risk taking that as an invitation.

“When’s the last time someone took care of you?” I ask, voice low and rough.

“I don’t remember.”

My chest strains. The words sound wrong coming from her lips.Painful. My head is a mess of half-baked plans and ideas on how to fill the place in her life that is so hauntingly empty. It takes everything in me to shove them down before I blurt out something reckless.

I swallow once, twice, three times before grappling with something safe to say, but nothing comes out. The sad smile that appears in front of me is not what I wanted to see. The shutters slam shut so quickly it’s startling, the window into her heart she’d granted me disappearing, leaving nothing but false normalcy.

“I’ve got to find Nova’s backpack,” she says before pushing from the counter and disappearing into the backroom.

I grip the edge of the counter in tight fists and blow out a tight breath. Moment ruined by my inability to be even mildly open and honest, I drop my head.

The shop door opens fast enough for a rip of wind to slash at my back. I know who it is without having to turn around, but when I do, the sight of his anger-stricken face intensifies my shit mood.

“Where’s my daughter?” he snaps, taking large steps toward me.

By the time he stops, he’s close enough for me to smell the coffee on his breath and perfume on the collar of his oil-streaked shirt. With green eyes the opposite of his daughter’s blue ones, he glares hard, puffing his chest.

He jabs a finger into my chest. “And who the fuck are you?”

“You need to calm down and step back before I tell you shit. Your daughter is close enough she could hear you right now,” I say calmly.

The reminder of Nova doesn’t embarrass him like I hoped it would. He doesn’t drop his fingeror back up either.

“If you’re hanging around my daughter and Avery, I need to know who you are.”

“Drop your hand and take a step back, then I’ll tell you.”

He curls his lip but does as I say this time.

I smooth a hand over my chest where his finger leaves a burn in my skin. “Oliver Bateman. Friend of the family.”

“Not that close of a friend, considering I haven’t heard of you. Stay the fuck away frommyfamily.”

Footsteps sound behind me, and then Chris’ eyes dart over my shoulder. He doesn’t smile or relax, only looks back at me with a silent demand for me to fuck off.

Not a chance.

“Chris, this is Gracie Bateman, Oliver’s mom. I grew up around their family, which I’ve mentioned a few times,” Avery explains, her voice overly soothing in the way I’d expect to hear while she’s talking Nova down from a tantrum.

“Dad! You’re here!”

Nova runs at Chris, his lateness forgiven in the blink of an eye. She burrows her face into his chest and winds her tiny arms around him as he lifts her in a hug.

Something gnaws on my ribs as I watch them, an emotion I refuse to admit to myself.

I look away and shift my stance, focusing on Avery instead. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears that I can’t distinguish between happy or sad, and I swear I’m going to break. The shop is suddenly too small, a shoebox I’ve been shoved into with the lid taped shut.

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