Page 133 of Claiming Pretty

But I did.

I loved her.

Underneath her reserved exterior and brusque attention was a woman who had opened her home to a young orphan.

She was the only mother I could ever remember having.

I covered my mouth so Ebony wouldn’t hear my strangled sob. Tears ran hot down my cheeks.

I thought we’d have so much more time to break through each of our reasons for withholding ourselves from the other.

I always imagined a future where we’d meet up for mimosas in the city and stay up late cuddled next to one another in her bed with a pint of chocolate chip ice cream between us.

I’d pushed it off too late and now I might never have it.

I regretted all the missed opportunities which I’d let slip through my fingers like water. I hadn’t expected this phone call to hurt this much and I struggled to keep breathing.

“Oh…” Ebony’s voice cracked. “I… I love you, too, Ava.”

If this was the last moment between us, I hoped Ebony could find comfort in it. I knew it would be difficult for her if things did not go as Ciaran, Ty, and I intended.

Either I would go missing and she would never know what happened to me…

Or the article I sent to Lisa just in case would catch like wildfire and she would know more of the nightmares I’d experienced than she could ever possibly forget.

As I hung up, Ty stepped to my side, silent, his presence heavy with unspoken tension. I held out my phone for him to take—I couldn’t take it with me where I was going.

He took it and in return he held out a small sharp hairpin blade.

“If anyonedaresto touch you,” he said, the violence sharp in his voice, “give them hell.”

His jaw tightened, his hesitation stretching the moment between us. When his eyes finally met mine, they carried more than his words ever could—a quiet, lingering goodbye.

“Thank you,” I murmured as I pulled my hair up.

“Here, let me.” Ty’s voice stopped me.

I hesitated for just a heartbeat. I didn’t need him to do it; I was more than capable of securing my hair on my own.

But something in his expression—a kind of quiet reverence—made me turn.

His fingers brushed the nape of my neck as he gathered my hair, his touch both gentle and deliberate.

My eyes fluttered shut at the shivers running down my spine as he twisted and pinned it into place.

The blade slid softly into the bun, and then I felt his warm lips press against the curve of my neck. For a fleeting moment, I let myself savor the contact, the way it steadied my heartbeat and softened the edges of my fear.

Ty turned me around gently, his hands warm against my shoulders, his eyes filled with love and… pride.

I love you for believing in me,I wanted to tell him.I love you for seeing the strength in me before even I did.

But before I could speak, he slipped a ring onto my finger—a delicate band with a ruby stone that gleamed like blood.

“Another gift? Ty…”

I still had his engagement ring burning a hole in a drawer of my dorm room.

For a moment, his fingers lingered on my hand, turning it slightly so the light caught the gem.

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