Page 159 of Claiming Pretty

I had thought I could win her. That I just had to show her.

But the truth stared me in the face, as undeniable as the girl I loved sobbing onhisbed.

I had already lost.

I don’t know how long I sat there, my head in my hands, listening to the muffled sound of her grief. But when I finally looked up, the answer was clear, as sharp and cold as the edge of a knife.

I knew what I had to do.

The heaviness lifted—not entirely, but enough for me to move, to stand. I pushed off the wall, my legs unsteady but determined, and turned toward Ava.

I loved her enough to let her go.

Even if it killed me.

AVA

The car ride to the airport was a blur, the silence which hung between Ty and me thick and oppressive.

I leaned my head against the passenger seat window, the cold glass pressing into my temple, soothing the ache that throbbed in time with my pulse.

My chest was hollow, emptied of all the screaming, crying, and pleading that had consumed me. There was nothing left but the numb weight of exhaustion.

I barely noticed the turns Ty made or the hum of the tires on the road.

When the car slowed, gravel crunching under the wheels, I blinked and glanced out the window, expecting lines of cars, concrete terminal buildings, and planes taking off overhead.

But this wasn’t the airport.

The sea glimmered in the distance, framed by towering pines that swayed gently in the salty breeze.

I frowned, my thoughts sluggish, trying to piece together where we were.

Ty put the car in park and got out without a word.

He opened the passenger door and offered his hand, and I stared up at him, too drained to ask why we had stopped.

“I wanted you to see it before I go,” he said, his voice calm but edged with something I couldn’t place.

I blinked at him, his words barely registering, and turned toward the house in front of us, a quaint two-story with a wraparound porch.

For a moment, it felt like déjà vu. The scent of the pine trees mingled with the faint sweetness of strawberries from a large patch in the front garden, and I paused mid-step.

“Have you brought me here before?” I asked, my voice hoarse and unfamiliar to my own ears.

Ty shook his head, his expression unreadable. “It was actually you who brought me here.”

The words didn’t make sense. My brow furrowed as I stared at him, waiting for an explanation, but he just gestured toward the house.

“Go on,” he said softly. “See if I got it right.”

I hesitated but moved forward, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes as I approached the porch.

The wind shifted, carrying the tang of saltwater and the faintest memory of a conversation I couldn’t quite grasp.

My hand trailed along the smooth wood of the porch railing as I stepped onto it, and something in me faltered.

“This is… where we would drink tea,” I whispered without thinking, the words spilling out before I could catch them.

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