Page 16 of Claiming Pretty

And as much as I told myself to stop him, as much as guilt and fear clawed at my chest, I couldn’t move.

I didn’t want to move.

THE WARDEN

“Welcome home, hummingbird,” I said as I pulled the car to a stop in front of Ava’s mansion. But the words felt hollow in my throat, a cover for the nerves clawing at my chest.

I hated this place—not the house itself, but what it stood for. What it had become.

My brother had stamped himself all over it, all overher. Ciaran had filled it with his memories, his presence, memories that I couldn’t erase. A past I couldn’t rewrite.

Ava’s gaze shifted to me, her voice quiet but piercing as she asked, “Why do you call me that?”

Her question threw me. For a moment, the nerves receded, replaced by a flicker of hope.

She noticed.She noticed my nickname for her.

She might not want to talk aboutus—about what happened between us at Blackthorn Hall—but she cared enough to ask about my nickname’s meaning. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Maybe I was delusional, but I couldn’t help it. Shewouldn’t have asked if she didn’t care, if there wasn’t a part of her—no matter how small—still tethered to me.

Still mine.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you,” I said, letting the words hang between us like a promise.

I leaned in, closing the space between us, drawn to her like gravity itself demanded it.

The air shifted, charged and heavy. Her lips parted slightly, her pupils dilating just enough for me to notice. It was instinctive, unconscious—her body betraying the pull she felt even if her mind was fighting it.

Her lips were soft and inviting, parting on a soft gasp, and for a heartbeat, I forgot everything else as I closed the distance.

She didn’t pull back. She didn’t turn away.

Her breath hitched, her gaze locked on mine, beckoning me closer.

Her hand pressed against my chest, firm enough to stop me. It hit me harder than any shove could have.

She pulled back, and her gaze dropped, avoiding mine.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words laced with something I couldn’t place. Guilt? Regret? Pain? “But I’mwithCiaran. I… love him.”

It was like a knife to the soul, ripping me open, but I didn’t flinch. Not outwardly. I couldn’t show her how much her words destroyed me.

Her eyes were clouded, her expression unreadable. “You and I… we’re just friends. Best friends. It was just… therapy. And now it’s over.”

I felt the lie in every word she spoke.

Therapy?

Friends?

No. That wasn’t what we were. It had never been that simple. The way she’d submitted to me, touched me,clungto me—it wasn’t clinical. It wasn’t just recovery.

She felt it too, the pull between us. She might not be ready to admit it, but I knew.

I stayed silent, my hands tightening on the steering wheel.

She didn’t want me to call her out. Not yet. She needed to believe her lie for now, to convince herself she was doing the right thing.

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