47. Ava #2
“You’re impossible,” I murmur, shaking my head.
“You’re perfect.”
Somewhere near the end of the movie, I must fall asleep, because when I wake up, I’m in my bed and he’s sliding the blankets over me.
He pauses when I peer up at him, too exhausted to fight sleep.
Neither of us says anything for a long moment, both of us frozen. It’s the closest we’ve been in months, and yet, I can’t deny there’s a large part of me that wishes he would stay.
But he doesn’t. I guess both of us realize we aren’t there, yet.
“Goodnight, Ava.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Goodnight, Levi.”
Levi and I are at a comfortable distance, with me hiding out in the living room while he fixes a cabinet in the kitchen, when a knock sounds at the front door.
I freeze, my heart plummeting to my toes, and I glance at Levi, who steps into the doorway of the kitchen.
“Relax,” he says calmly, before crossing to the front door and opening it. I stay back in the living room, listening to the sound of whoever’s at the door, but I’m unable to picture who it could be.
It’s not until Levi steps around the corner, into the living room, that I scramble backwards.
“It’s okay,” Levi says, holding up a hand while Donovan Palmer looks as cold and unfeeling as ever.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” Donovan says, stepping cautiously into the room.
“Forgive me, but that’s what Alex said right before he stabbed me in the leg.”
“I just want to talk.”
“Did you know he was coming?” I ask Levi. Donovan winces, while Levi looks away, jaw tight.
I can’t believe him.
I shake my head, angrily swiping at the tears on my cheeks.
And to think I was starting to trust him again.
“Get out.”
“Ava . . .” Levi says, taking a cautionary step towards me. “Just hear him out.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Ava—”
“No,” I snap, hair flying around me when I whip back around. “I don’t even know him.”
“And yet, he’s still your brother,” Levi snaps back, and my heart takes a tumble in my chest.
Both of us stare at each other, chests heaving, while Donovan doesn’t move.
“Right, this has been fun, but I only came for one thing.”
I step back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Your ego.”
“The truth.”
My lips clamp shut, and I lean back against the wall. There’s nothing saying I have to speak to him. This is my house, after all.
But . . . I do want answers.
I have a right to know who I am and where I came from, even if that isn’t a very good place.
“Talk.”
Donovan lets out a heavy breath and sinks down to the couch. Levi relaxes visibly, though he stays back, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorway.
I remain rooted in place across the room from both of them like they’re infected with a flesh-eating parasite.
“As you know, our father, Nolan Marks, is the head of the Burelli crime family.”
“So what, you guys are big, bad mobsters?”
Donovan doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor.
“Something like that,” he says, but there’s a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, like he wishes it were that simple. His eyes aren’t cold—not right now. They’re far away, somewhere I can’t follow.
“As you know, I own the Tomb. I bought it as a way to break off from my— our father and do something that no one else was doing. An outlet.”
“Okay?”
“And that’s how I met Cross. Our family comes from money, Ava, but one thing it’s lacking is stability. I never knew my mother.”
The admission tugs at something in my chest. “Why not?”
He shrugs, but it’s not careless. It’s tired. “She died during childbirth. A few years before you were born, I guess.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The room feels smaller somehow, wrapped in the weight of things neither of us got to have.
“I didn’t even know about you,” I say quietly.
Donovan’s gaze finds mine again. “Yeah . . . I know. But I knew about you. I always knew.”
There’s no accusation in his tone—just a kind of wistful sadness, like he’s mourning something that never had the chance to exist.
“Why me? I didn’t even know about you. Or Nolan, for that matter.”
Donovan chuckles under his breath.
My throat feels tight, a sharp ache pressing against my ribs.
Donovan smiles faintly, but there’s no joy in it. “You were the only thing he ever kept close that didn’t have a price tag on it.”
I look away, blinking hard as tears threaten to spill. I don’t know what hurts more—the thought that my father cared, or that I never got the chance to see it for myself.
“I don’t understand. Why would he think Alex would come after me if the deal went bad? I mean, you’re the one he chose to stay with.”
“And yet, the only picture in his wallet is of you.”
Something hot pricks at my eyes, and I press my lips together to keep them from trembling. I don’t know if the tears are for the father I never knew . . . or the pieces of him I’m only just now finding.
“I hated you,” Donovan says, as if I need to be convinced. “I hated him because of you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“Because you got all the best parts of him, even if you never knew it.”
And for the first time, I realize we’re not just two strangers bound by blood. We’re two people who grew up missing the same thing.
Donovan shifts, his tone gentling. “We didn’t get to choose the family we were born into, Ava. But maybe . . . we can choose what we are to each other now.”
Donovan stands, the chair scraping lightly against the floor.
He holds out his hand to me, palm steady, fingers open.
I hesitate for half a beat before taking it.
His grasp is firm but not crushing, warm but not lingering—like we’re just any two strangers passing in the street, and not a half-brother and sister meeting for the first time under the shadow of a man we both have reason to hate.
And maybe . . . maybe I wouldn’t want it any other way. A clean handshake feels safer than a hug I’m not ready for. Forgive me, but I’m still tainted by the way our first meeting unfolded.
“Whatever happens from here, Ava . . . you’re not alone in it.”
The words are simple, but something in the way he says them makes them feel like a promise. And for some strange reason, I believe him.
Donovan lingers for a moment in the silence of the room. Then, finally, he heads towards the door and leaves without another word.
As February rolls around, so does the cold. The wind cuts through me every time I leave the house, and I can’t wait to return and stay in front of the fireplace.
The cottage has come a long way, and it’s starting to feel like home again. With each passing day, the dust and cobwebs disappear, and a bit more of the character I grew up with shines through.
I can’t deny Levi has been a big part of it, and I know without his help, I would have played hell trying to keep the place warm.
He still comes every day, but there’s something new in the air between us. Something warm and new and vibrant that steals my breath away when I catch myself staring at him.
There are moments when we accidentally brush hands or bump into each other, and he steadies me with a hand on my waist that I feel like I might combust if I don’t get his hands on me.
There are other moments when I still want to blame him for what happened, even knowing the true reason behind his actions.
I’m finding it difficult to trust at times, and at others I want to throw caution to the wind and leap into his arms.
I’m a walking contradiction, and it’s giving me a headache.
It’s not until the coldest day of the year that he doesn’t show.
My heart sinks every time I glance at the clock.
It’s stupid, the ache in my chest when it dawns on me that he’s not coming. I can’t expect him to spend every day hanging around my house waiting for me to forgive him. He has a life, and so do I. It’s better this way.
At least . . . that’s what I tell myself until I hear his car coming down my drive.
Instantly, I dart off the couch and head to the window, peeking out through the curtains to see him climb out of the car.
My heart flutters in my chest, knowing he came, but I’m also angry that he chanced it with the big snowstorm coming through.
“Get inside, it’s freezing,” I call out when he comes up the slick sidewalk.
“Miss me, baby girl?”
My heart does a somersault at the familiar old nickname, and I open my mouth to tell him not to call me that, but the devil-may-care grin on his lips has the words dying before they ever reach the surface.
“Just get inside, you psychopath.”
He follows me in, kicking the snow off his boots in the doorway, while I shut the door behind him.
“Why would you come out here in this? It’s crazy outside. You could have wrecked.”
Amusement lights his gaze, and he holds out a small box. I stare at him blankly before he takes my hand and places it in my palm.
“What is this?”
He shrugs, moving past me towards the living room.
“It’s Valentine’s Day.”
I pause, falling short. I look down at the box in my hand, and my heart beats a little faster. How did I not realize? How did he?
He heads over to the fireplace, messing with it like he does every day. I swear I’m not doing something right because it’s never as warm as when he does it. I’m starting to think he’s rigged it, so I need him to come over and fix it every day.
Carefully, I slide open the box, and my voice gets caught in my throat.
It’s Gran’s old Tiffany necklace we found the other day, broken in a drawer in the bathroom. Only now . . . it’s fixed.
My fingers graze over the metal chain, my eyes filling with tears. I hadn’t even realized he’d taken it, and now, it’s fixed and shining like it’s brand new.
I thought I’d done a good job at hiding how much it upset me to find it broken, but I should have known he’d see right through that.
“ Ava. ”
I look up to find him watching me, his expression serious.
I place the lid back on the box and join him in the living room, stopping just beyond the couch because the closer I get to him, the less my brain wants to work.
“Why are you here, Levi?”