30. Ava
AVA
I t’s only three days after my argument with Levi that I wake up feeling like I spent the night deep throating door knobs at the Seattle Airport.
My throat is sore. My nose may as well not exist, and I feel like I just barely cheated death with the headache and dizziness I’ve got going on.
Do I have a fever?
Probably.
Can I afford to take the day off?
Absolutely not.
So, like the pathetic, working-class citizen I am, I force myself to get up and get to work.
The house is nearly empty, although people have been coming and going all day. To my knowledge, Bella and Paulina are at the lodge, and Christian has been confined to his office all morning. Levi, on the other hand, has been MIA for the last three days.
Not that I noticed or anything. I don’t give a flying crap where Levi Cross is.
It’s not like I care. Not really. So, he had a nightmare and woke up terrified, holding me like some demonic force was trying to drag me away from him.
People have nightmares all the time. Why should I care about his?
Oh right. Because for some reason, I do.
As brutal as he was when he told me to mind my own business, I can’t stop thinking about the fear in his eyes when I woke him. Levi doesn’t get scared, so whatever it is, I know it was brutal.
Regardless of how he treats me when I get too close, a part of me aches for him because I know he went through something awful as a child to make him the man he is today.
He just needs someone to listen and not judge, and the idiotic softie in me screams I can help him , even if he’s expressed how much he doesn’t want my help.
He still thinks I’m the enemy, even if I’ve tried to show him a thousand times I’m not, and I know, someday I’ll have to accept that and move on. Preferably, before my feelings get involved any more than they already are.
And let me tell you, they’re definitely involved.
“Goddammit,” I grumble, looking down the ladder attached to the library wall at the duster I’d dropped to the floor. I’m trying to dust, but clearly, it’s not working out.
Why couldn’t I come from a wealthy family? Why do I have to battle dust bunnies when I’m sick instead of lounging around with an IV of the best antibiotics money can buy?
Looking down turns out to be a mistake because the room sways around me, another bout of dizziness making everything tilt on its axis.
And then the ground rushes up at me.
Uh-Oh .
“What the fuck?”
I stumble down the ladder, barely managing to land on my feet before big arms that can only belong to one person wrap around me, holding me upright.
Unfortunately, I think I would have rather fallen.
“Ava,” Levi growls, steadying me. His hand doesn’t leave the small of my back.
“I’m fine,” I wheeze, pulling back from his grasp and bending down for the duster. I don’t want to look at him because I know I look like I just climbed out of a sewer.
Besides . . . maybe I’m a little jaded from the way he acted the other day.
God, why is the room on a tilt-a-whirl today?
I pull out my inhaler, but it may as well be null and void when I take a puff.
“You’re not fine.”
“It’s just a cold,” I snap, jerking my arm away.
Wooziness washes over me, and to make things even better, I cough, sounding like an eighty-year-old woman who’s smoked three packs a day since she was two.
“Why are you working if you’re sick?”
He can’t honestly be serious, can he?
“I have bills to pay, Levi. Normal people do that.”
“You’re allowance—”
“Is being saved to buy a new car.”
His jaw tightens, and he looks away.
Oh, right. I forgot. We’re not allowed to have any human interactions.
I push out a breath through my teeth, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“I have work to do.”
“Go lie down, Ava. This shit will be here tomorrow.”
“I highly doubt I’ll feel any better tomorrow. It’s better for me to just do it now.”
I move to step back up the ladder, ignoring him completely when he catches me around the waist.
That’s when I make the mistake of looking up into his eyes. Two icy blue pools that seem to stretch on endlessly.
I could get lost in those eyes.
Then the asshole stoops down and picks me up.
All the air whooshes out of my lungs on a gasp, and I can’t help but cough from the impact.
“Breathe, baby girl.”
“I’ll get right on that,” I wheeze, my head spinning when he carries me through the halls and down to my room.
The moment we enter, I’m acutely aware that the last time he was here, it was when we fought over his nightmare, and seeing him here in the daylight feels strange.
Intimate in all the ways he and I are not.
Sitting me down on the side of my bed, he pushes the door shut.
“Take your shirt off.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re lying down. I’ll get you something to wear.”
“I can take care of myself.” Lie. I couldn’t even take care of Sam the Succulent.
“Clearly,” Levi grunts, searching through my drawers. “You have no clothes, Ava.”
“I don’t need much.” Translation: I’m broke.
He shakes his head.
“You know, if my employer paid me a little better, I’d probably have better clothes.”
He doesn’t argue with my joke. Instead, his brows furrow, and he shuts the drawers in defeat.
“Maybe you’re right,” he grunts before disappearing out of the room and leaving me shell-shocked.
It’s not a minute before he returns, tossing one of his oversized T-shirts onto the bed beside me.
“Mine weren’t good enough?”
“No,” he retorts. “Get undressed.”
“You know, you’re awfully pushy,” I say around another coughing fit.
“And tired of your antics,” he mutters, almost like he’s pissed off. Just like the night he brought me home after the party, he’s all business.
He waits while I sit on the bed and contemplate life.
“Are you going to stay here?”
He cocks a brow, shooting me a look.
Oh, right. He’s fucked me seven different ways to Sunday and eaten my pussy at a crowded party.
“Fine,” I grumble, reaching for the hem of my shirt. I tug it over my head and toss it to the floor. To his credit, he only looks at my boobs once when I take my bra off.
Once I’ve shed my shoes, pants, and socks, I slip his T-shirt over my head, and I’m disturbed to find it smells like him, and my mouth waters .
Honestly, what has he turned me into?
“In the bed.”
“Okay, Dad ,” I grunt, and he swats my ass when I climb up onto the mattress.
“Hey!” I gasp, my cheeks flaming a deep shade of red.
Unfortunately, my ire is lost on him because I have another coughing fit shortly after.
He steps forward, his hand on the top rung of the four-post bed—I can’t even reach that post without standing on the mattress—and his eyes darken when he looks down at me.
God . . . the muscles in his arms could end a war.
“It’s Daddy to you, sweetheart.” My breath gets caught in my throat, and I swear, my heart doesn’t beat for a solid minute. “Now, lie down. I’ll be back in a bit.”
I’m ashamed to say I listen and that my core tightens when I feel his eyes roam over my ass before I slide under the covers.
I’m betting it’s the fever.
“Fine. But if Paulina comes looking for me, I’m blaming you.”
His lips tip up at the corner. “Good girl.”
I’m almost asleep by the time Levi comes strolling back into my room.
I’m so surprised to see him that I don’t even notice the tray he’s carrying until he’s setting it down on the bed over my legs.
“Soup?”
He doesn’t even look at me as he pops the top of a can of ginger ale and then opens a pack of crackers next.
“Eat.”
Something shifts, and warmth burns in my chest.
I don’t feed, Ava. I fuck.
“You don’t feed people.”
Still avoiding my gaze, he situates everything in my lap.
“Shut up.”
I bite back a smile at his tone and reach for the spoon. I’m not hungry—when I’m sick, I’d much rather starve—but the fact that he went out of his comfort zone in an effort to take care of me feels . . . special.
Honestly, my head feels like it’s three sizes too big, and I can’t breathe. Not to mention, my eyes are in a constant state of watering, like I’m watching the first nine minutes of Up on repeat.
“I’m not eating that grapefruit.”
“Paulina caught me on the way out of the kitchen. She said they’re your favorite,” he jokes, crossing the room and kicking his shoes off on the other side of the bed.
“I hate grapef—What are you doing?”
My stomach dips when he tugs his hoodie over his head, and for a brief second, those glorious abs are on display. I’m sure I look like a cave rat next to him right now.
“Making sure you eat,” he murmurs, before sliding into the bed beside me.
You have got to be kidding me.
“You know I’m a grown woman, right?”
“That much was evident when I had the proof grinding all over my mouth the other night.”
“Are you always this crude, or is this reserved special for me?”
“That depends,” he counters without missing a beat. “Do you always eat your soup with this much of an attitude?”
I glower at him.
He glowers back.
“If you don’t finish that bowl, I’ll personally hand-feed you that grapefruit.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Want to bet?”
“You’ll have to kill me first.”
“Thoughts crossed my mind,” he grumbles under his breath, and we dissolve into silence.
Forcing myself, I eat the soup slowly, and though it’s just soup from a can, he tried, and that’s more than anyone else has done in a long time.
We sit in silence, both of us watching whatever trashy TV show is on, but it’s not as uncomfortable as it normally is. Like maybe we reached some sort of momentary truce while I’m sick.
Truthfully, I’ve missed him, but I refuse to tell him that.
We left too much unsaid the other night. The way he took care of me. The way he’d kissed me after he’d made me come like he’s been dreaming of it all his life.
The way he seemed desperate to protect me in his nightmare.
It all sits heavily between us like the biggest elephant in the room, but neither of us breaches the subject.
Is it bad that I’m thankful?
Is it also bad that, as much as I don’t want to, I’m enjoying just having him in my space after two days of radio silence?
“I’m done,” I say quietly when the bowl is empty, placing the tray on my nightstand. My eyes are heavy, and I can’t help but blush when I blow my nose loudly. Levi doesn’t seem to care, but I do. “You don’t have to stay.”
“In a minute,” he grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. “I’m invested.”
“You have a TV in your room.”
“It’s broken.”
I know for a fact that’s a lie.
“Fine,” I sigh, slipping down into the bed to get comfortable. Suddenly, I’m exhausted. “But don’t blame me when you get sick.”
“I think if I were going to get it, I would have gotten it by now, baby.”
My chest flutters.
He left off the girl at the end of that again.
I can’t decide if I like it or if it’s terrifying.
“Must be hard to catch a cold when your body temperature is the same as the surface of the sun,” I muse, hiding my blush by adjusting under the covers.
He chuckles darkly under his breath. “Maybe you just have a weak immune system.”
“My immune system is offended.”
“Your immune system is a dick.”
“Tell me about it,” I grumble, and he chuckles quietly.
For what feels like eternity, we just lay there in each other’s presence. Neither of us speaking, but not really paying attention to the TV either.
Levi’s the first to break the silence, and he swallows hard. “Come here, Ava.” His tone is gentler, and for a moment, I almost think maybe I do have a fever. Levi isn’t sweet. He doesn’t do intimacy.
I stare up into his frosty eyes when he opens his arm to me.
“I’m sick.” It’s a poor excuse. Levi and I don’t cuddle. The other night is evidence of that.
He fixes me with a look and tugs at my hand resting between us.
Gingerly, I go, laying my head down on this chest. It’s awkward and he’s stiff as a board, but there’s also a tenderness when he blows out a slight breath between his teeth that I’m not used to. Something warm and sweet and dangerous.
“Thank you for feeding me,” I say softly, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It’s beating so fast . . .
“Don’t mention it,” he says, his voice rough.
The silence in the air hums between us, especially now that the show has ended.
“Have you ever cuddled before?”
He’s silent, staring up at the ceiling for a long time.
“Before you . . . No.”
My heart breaks for him, and just like that, there’s a rush of strange emotions swirling through me that I can’t fight.
The knowledge that he’s not as bad as he wants to pretend he is.
That maybe, the big bad wolf has just been misunderstood his entire life and needs someone to show him that not everyone’s going to hurt him.
I rise, and he reaches for me, almost instinctually, and I smile softly. His brows draw together in confusion when I roll to my other side and pull his arm tightly around me. He stiffens for a moment but rolls over, his arm around my waist, the other under my neck, while he cradles me close.
I feel his lips at the top of my head, and finally, he relaxes around me, burying his face in the side of my neck. I don’t miss the quiet inhale, like he’s been starved for my scent as much as I have been for his.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, after a long time. His voice is so quiet, I barely hear it.
Tears sting in the backs of my eyes because I know what it’s like to hide behind anger, because the pain is too much.
“Don’t mention it.”