Page 17 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
It only rings once.
“Ava.” Her voice comes through the line fast and breathless. “Oh, thank God.”
My throat constricts instantly. “Hi, Mom.”
“Honey, are you okay? Where are you? Greg and Jenna said you’re safe, and that Jackson is helping you?”
“I’m okay. I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “Yes, I’m with Jackson. He found me freaking out before the wedding. Drove me here. I… I didn’t know where else to go, and he offered. I’ve been here since.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, relief flooding her voice. “That boy always did look out for you.”
Her words settle over me like a blanket.
“I figured you’d be home by now,” I say quietly. “Did you make it back okay?”
“Yes. We landed this morning. Your dad’s…” She pauses. “Well, he’s here. He wants to talk, but—”
In the background, I hear his voice clearly.
“Tell her she’s better off. Good riddance to that son of a bitch.”
“Richard,” she snaps, her voice sharp.
I blink, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
Her tone softens again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He’s just angry. We both are. Jenna told us what happened. I liked Brad, I’ll admit it. He was charming. Polite. But I never imagined he’d do something like this. I feel like I failed you somehow.”
“You didn’t,” I whisper. “None of this is on you.”
She sighs into the line. “I should’ve asked more questions. Should’ve listened to my gut. Something always felt a little… off.”
“Same,” I admit. “I just didn’t want to believe it.”
There’s a silence, less heavy with shock and more like understanding settling gently between us.
“Your dad and I can come back up there. We don’t have to stay long. We just want to see you, make sure you’re okay.”
I swallow hard. “Thanks, Mom. Really. But I think I just need a little more time to... process everything.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “We love you.”
“I love you too.”
We say our goodbyes, and when I hang up, the quiet in the room rushes back in.
The call doesn’t fix everything, but it helps. My mom’s voice makes me feel a little more anchored.
I told her I was with Jackson, and she didn’t question it. Probably because she already knows the kind of person he is.
And because he’s always been the one to catch me when I fall.
My parents moved to Florida last year: retirement, sunshine, and all the clichés that come with it. It still feels strange, knowing the house I grew up in belongs to someone else. Thathomeis more of a feeling than a place now.
I lie back against the pillows, letting the warmth of the blankets and the hum of the house settle around me.
I think about Liam and Noah. Six years old, all energy and snack demands. And somehow, even only after one day, already kind to me in a way I didn’t expect.
Noah’s a hurricane. Unfiltered and full of opinions. But Liam… he’s a little more cautious. Quieter. He hovers a second longer before speaking and watches people when they’re not looking.
