Age of Ava by Melanie Moreland

Chapter 16

Hunter

Iknew she was coming before I saw her. Cash stood at attention, his gaze focused on the tree line, his tail wagging madly. I paused in my task, watching, my anticipation almost as great as his. She appeared between the break in the trees, her hair piled on her head, dressed casually. Her hands were encased in oven mitts, and she carried a large pot. She made me grin with her random appearances and offerings.

She approached me with one of her shier smiles—one I had a feeling few people ever saw. Despite her bravado and snark, she was surprisingly reticent about sex outside the bedroom. She actually blushed after we’d been together, our bodies still hot from our joining, the air around us sizzling with the heat of our efforts. I had made an offhand remark and been fascinated as the color crept into her cheeks and gradually went down her neck, tingeing her breasts pink. I found it endearing. Charming. Somehow it made her even sexier.

“Come bearing gifts, Little Dragon?” I asked, eyeing the pan in her grip.

“Spaghetti.”

“You made spaghetti?” I set aside the nail gun and stood. “Really?”

I freaking loved spaghetti.

“Yeah. I made the sauce a couple of nights ago but hadn’t gotten around to eating it. So, I thought I’d share. I figured, I was hungry, so you must be too.”

“I am.”

She set the pot down on the second step, disappeared inside, and returned with two forks and some water. She sat down and placed the pot on her lap, protecting her skin with the big mitts. She tilted her head, indicating the spot behind her. I didn’t need a second invitation, sliding onto the top step and caging her between my legs. She lifted the lid, and the aroma hit me. Spicy tomato sauce, cheese, oregano, and garlic wafted up, making me groan. She handed me a fork and draped a tea towel over her shoulder.

“Dig in.”

I leaned over her shoulder, twirling the pasta, chewing it slowly. I speared a meatball, humming under my breath at the delicious taste.

“So good,” I mumbled, grateful for the tea towel when some sauce dripped. I caught it with my finger and bent close, kissing the side of her neck, enjoying the shiver.

I knew we could go inside. Get bowls. Eat like normal human beings. Except, I liked this. Her tucked in front of me, sharing a pot of pasta, enjoying the fresh air, the aroma of her meal, and the scent of newly cut cedar.

We ate in silence, aside from my grunts and mutterings of appreciation. She leaned against me, relaxed and at peace. We had a couple of fork fights going after the same meatball, which made me laugh. She threw Cash a meatball, which he gobbled down then waited hopefully for more. Instead, she dug into her pocket and tossed him a dog biscuit she’d obviously brought with her. He happily caught it and lay in the sun, chewing on it.

The sound of a truck in the driveway made us look up, and she groaned and dropped her head.

“Fuck’s sake,” she muttered as Ronan got out of the truck and approached us with a wide, shit-eating grin on his face.

“You take this whole neighbor thing to another level, Ava. Now you’re teaching him to eat pasta? Wow. Just wow.”

Chuckling, he walked up the steps and passed us, going inside. Ava peeked up at me, and I shrugged, twirling more spaghetti. Ronan came outside and sat beside Ava, sticking a fork into the pot and twirling a massive amount of pasta and adding a meatball, then shoving it in his face and chewing.

“Help yourself, please,” I deadpanned.

He nodded, his mouth full. He chewed and swallowed, reaching over for more, batting Ava’s hand out of the way when she tried to stop him. “I’m hungry,” he protested.

“You have Beth. She’ll make you food.”

“She’s out with Evan.” He nudged her. “Unlike some people, she was home at a decent time and not drunk.”

I chuckled as I twirled more pasta. I had a feeling the bastard was going to eat way too much of my meal, and I really didn’t want to share it. I looked around, trying to see where Ava had put the lid to the pot but couldn’t spy it.

Ava sighed. “I did have a little too much last night.”

Ronan stopped eating and looked at her. “I’m only teasing. You needed to relax last night.” He looked up, meeting my eyes. “She tell you what happened yesterday afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Motherfucker. No one calls my sister names. You should have laid one of your karate moves on him, Ava.”

“You know karate?” I asked, surprised.

“I have a black belt,” she confirmed.

I was impressed. “Holy shit. Remind me not to piss you off.”

She patted my knee. “I’ll be gentle.” She turned to Ronan. “I just wanted him gone. If I had engaged, it would have escalated. And if I’d flipped him, which, believe me, I wanted to, he would have sued. I think you and Brayden made your point. And Addi, when she tore up the contract.”

“I sort of roughed him up a little in the elevator. Brayden might have covered the camera,” he confessed. “He’ll think twice about calling anyone that name again.”

My respect for Ronan grew, and I stopped looking for the lid. He deserved some of the delicious pasta. We ate for a while, then I spoke.

“So, are you stalking me now? That’s three days in a row you’ve been here, Ronan.”

“You track my sister’s visits too?”

I lifted one eyebrow. “For totally different reasons.”

“Ew. Never mind. I brought a set of plans to show you.”

“Already?”

“I had time. Beth was out last night, so was Evan. They left again this morning, so I had lots of free time. And like I said, your plan was pretty simple. You can look it over, I’ll make any changes needed, and you can submit for approval.” He winked in a conspiratorial way. “Once they see my name attached to the plans, it’ll be pushed through fast.”

“Such humility.”

He stretched out his arms. “Just speaking the truth.”

“Okay, let’s see these plans.” Without thinking, I kissed the top of Ava’s head. “Excellent spaghetti, Little Dragon. Thanks.”

Ronan laughed as he stood. “It was awesome, Little Dragon. Just what I needed.”

“Shut it and go get the drawings,” she muttered, pushing him off the steps.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to her ear. “Hide the spaghetti while he’s busy.”

Her giggle made me smile.

* * *

“These are awesome, Ronan. Exactly what I pictured. I even like the deck extension wrapping around the house.”

“You don’t have to extend the roof over the deck. Add a pergola around the back half and run it along the side. Use some climbing vines, and as they fill in, the shade will be there. That way, you can start the foundation. Save yourself a ton of cash.”

“Great.”

He shut the computer. “I’ll print these up with the specs and drop them off Monday. You can take it to Milly and get your permit. Who are you using to pour the foundation?”

“I spoke to Smithers Corp and Davenport Co.”

“Davenport is better. Local, straightforward.”

“All right. Thanks for the tip.”

“Roof?”

“I’ll do it myself.”

Ronan lifted one eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Framing?”

“You’re looking at him. I’ll hire a couple guys to help for the heavy stuff and finish it on my own.”

“Big jobs.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I informed him.

Ronan laughed. “No doubt. Still, big jobs to tackle on your own. Get my number from Ava. Call me. Liam and I will swing by and help. So will Paul and Jeremy. Happy to help a neighbor.”

I hesitated, my irrational need to say no immediately hitting me.

Ronan held up his hands. “No pressure. But many hands and all. And free labor as long as there is beer and pizza.” He nudged Ava. “Or spaghetti.”

I smiled although it was forced.

“Aylmer’s Electric does good work. Again, local. Honest. Tell Hank I sent you. He’ll look after you.”

“Okay.”

He stood and hugged Ava quickly, then headed to the door.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, kids.”

He left, the sound of his engine fading away.

Ava looked at me nervously. “He was just trying to be helpful.”

“I know.”

She sighed. “You don’t trust many people, do you? Especially my family. Why?”

I blew out a long breath. “Long story.”

“I’m not in a hurry to leave. Unless you want me to go.”

I met her gaze. “No.”

She reached across the table and gripped my hand. “I just want to understand.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure I understand myself.”

“Try me.”

“I’ve never told anyone about my past. Not a soul.”

“I think I might be a little different from just anyone, Hunter.”

She had a point. What she was, exactly, I couldn’t say, but she was different. Still, it made me uncomfortable.

I stood and paced, already feeling my nerves stretching taut. “My mom was a wild child, from what I understand. I guess she gave my grandparents a lot of trouble.” I indicated the room. “My grandparents lived in town and owned this place. They used it as a cottage. They moved here when she was about twelve, hoping that a little distance from town and some open space would help her.” I barked a laugh. “It didn’t.”

Ava stayed silent.

“Long story short—the trouble kept happening. Then when she was sixteen, she got pregnant with me.”

“Ah,” Ava breathed out.

“Now, I got all this from my grandfather’s attorney, so some of it is pretty sketchy. He could tell me what little he knew but not the whys.”

“What happened?”

“Same old story, told a thousand times. She planned to give me up for adoption, but when I was born, decided to keep me. She stayed here with my grandparents for a while, then found a job and moved closer to Toronto. That failed, and she came back. Then another opportunity and we were gone. Then back. It continued until I was five.” I ran my hand over the mantel. “I have vague recollections of being here. Sitting by the fireplace, hearing my grandfather talk. The arguments between him and my mother. My grandmother in the kitchen. Just fleeting, fast moments. Nothing concrete. I wasn’t even sure who the people were until recently.”

“Oh?” Ava hummed the question.

“Too many people have come and gone from my life. Most of them are just shadows of memories—especially when I was little. One memory I have, though…” I rolled my shoulders as the anxiety built. “One day, there was a huge fight. I remember the shouting. It scared me, and I hid under the bed. My mother came in and dragged me out, tossing me into the car. There was more yelling, and my grandmother was crying, my grandfather trying to open the car door, but my mother drove away. It was the last time I was here until now.”

“Wow. Where did you go?”

I grimaced. “I have no idea, Ava. The list is endless. My mother—she was unable to settle anywhere for very long. Ever. I can’t tell you the string of cities and places we lived. Never more than a few months. Six, I think, was the longest. The number of men that came and went. The long list of promises of ‘This time, it will be different,’ I went through. My mother was distrustful of everything and everyone.” I pushed off the mantel, pacing around the room. “We lived in apartments, trailers, run-down houses, fancy places, hotels, motels, even tents. Whatever broken-down piece of shit she was driving at the time. An old RV for a while. Endless changes of addresses. Most of the time, living hand to mouth. We’d land somewhere new, and she’d get a job and make the same promise that we’d found the right place. But invariably, we’d pack up and be gone in the middle of the night, leaving behind debts, lies, and little pieces of a broken life.”

I stopped in front of Ava, tugging a hand through my hair.

“What about school? Friends?”

I barked out a laugh. “I have no idea how many schools I went to and got pulled from. I never finished a grade—ever. Because of my age, they’d just push me ahead. I never made any friends. There was no point. I knew we’d be gone before too long.”

“How did you survive?” she asked.

“By relying on myself. I learned to cook basic foods. Toast or eggs if we had them. I would sneak a buck out of her purse and get a box of macaroni and cook it. Hide it so I had something to eat for a couple of days since most of the time, she forgot about that sort of thing. I washed my clothes in the bathtub—if we had one. I went to the local library and taught myself. I learned to cope. The few times we had a place that was decent, it was usually because she met someone—” I held up my fingers in quotations “—‘special.’”

I shook my head. “They never lasted. She drove them away with her paranoia, distrust, and demands. Then the cycle would start again.”

Ava reached for my hand that was clasping and unclasping on my thigh. She pulled me onto the chair beside her. “Keep talking,” she pleaded.

“When I was sixteen, I had enough. She had enough. She told me it was time to be on my own. I remember laughing and telling her I’d been on my own for years. We argued and I left.”

“Where did you go?”

“I did what I knew best, Ava. All I knew was to be a rolling stone. I went from place to place, picking up skills and trades. I worked in car washes, construction sites, restaurants, whatever I could do to find work. Landscaping, picking crops, anything. I worked all around Canada, in the States, I even went to Australia, working my way there on a boat. I stayed there for a year, doing odd jobs. I came back to Canada and got my GED.” I offered her a sad smile. “Probably the oldest graduate in the country.”

She squeezed my hand. “Still, you got it.” She paused. “Why didn’t you come here to see your grandparents?”

“Two reasons. One, they were really just a dim memory. I had no idea where this place was or who the people I remembered were. They could have been one of the hundred places we stayed at.” I huffed out a long exhale. “Two, my mother told me her parents kicked us out and that they didn’t want either of us. I was about twelve and asked about them. Then later, she told me they had both died. She told me we had no family.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Maybe she was punishing my grandparents by keeping me away. Maybe something else. I have no idea.”

I stood and circled the room again. “She died when I was in my late thirties. All her things went into storage. There wasn’t much, but I couldn’t bear to even look at it. Our relationship had dissolved into a polite call or letter once a year checking in, and usually it was me reaching out to her from some deep-seated sense of obligation. After I left, she stayed in Canada. She kept a PO Box in Alberta, and I had a cell phone so she could get in touch. I would write her on occasion to let her know where I was. The calls were sporadic and painful. I was working in the Northwest Territories when I got a call saying she was ill. She died not long after.”

“Did you see her?”

“No.”

“Do you regret that?” she asked, her voice low with care.

“No, Ava. My relationship with my mother was messy and complicated. I was never a kid or allowed to be one. As far back as I can remember, I was considered a burden, just something she had to deal with. I was never taken into consideration or felt as if I mattered. I went where I was told to go, did what I was told to do, and learned from her never to trust, build relationships, or depend on anyone.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I never understood why she kept me. It wasn’t as if she loved me. She should have given me up.”

There was a beat of silence, then Ava cleared her throat. Her voice sounded thick.

“What about your grandparents? How did you discover they were alive?”

I grimaced. “I discovered too late. I finally went to collect the things I’d put into storage. I decided it was time to put the past to bed. There wasn’t much, but I went through the boxes. It was mostly junk, but I found a package of letters she’d kept and I opened them. They were from my grandfather. There weren’t many, but the last one was dated a year before she passed. I realized she’d been lying and my grandfather, at least, was alive. I looked up the address, but there was no phone number. I wrote a letter to the address, and a few weeks later, I got a call from my grandfather’s solicitor, saying he had passed recently and my grandmother had passed years prior. He informed me that I was in his will. He had left me this place, and it was being held in trust for me for ten years. I came here to see it.”

“What would have happened after ten years?”

“There was a second beneficiary. It would go to them.”

“I see.”

“There was no mention of me in the letters. Nothing. I guess I meant as little to them as I did to her. I have no idea why he left me this place.” I scoffed bitterly. “No wonder I’m so screwed up. I have no idea how to be normal.”

“You are normal, Hunter.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t connect with people or places. I don’t have roots or a history. Just a lot of bad memories. She really messed up my thinking, Ava. I don’t have any of the usual desires other people do. Family. Kids. A spouse. A home. I find trust hard. Half the time, I have one foot out the door before I’ve even said hello.” I locked gazes with her. “It’s part of my makeup. It’s who I am.”

“No. It’s who you thought you were. You can change that.”

I shook my head in disagreement. “No, I can’t. I don’t have the emotional depth.”

She jumped to her feet. “Yes, you do! You look after Cash. You care about me.”

I waved her off. “Cash is an animal. That is different. And you…” I sighed as I traced my finger along her cheek. “While you are special in your own way, you have a time limit too, Little Dragon. Everyone does. I’m not equipped to deal with it. To stay anywhere. I don’t know how.”

“You could learn,” she insisted stubbornly. “If you wanted, you could learn.”

“Maybe,” I said slowly. “Maybe—I don’t want to learn.”

Her eyes widened, and I saw the flash of pain in them. Still, she grabbed my hand. “Don’t. Don’t let her win, Hunter. You can overcome this. All of this. There has to be a reason your grandfather left you this place. Maybe he was trying to give you roots. A place to call your own.”

I smiled ruefully. “Maybe he felt guilty. Or maybe he had no one else to leave it to.”

“You said there was a second beneficiary. Is it a relative?”

I met her eyes. “No. It was you, Ava.”