Page 78 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
“You’re stronger than you think, Ava. Walking away from him took more courage than most people ever find.”
Her eyes lift. Something fragile and defiant flickers there.
She exhales, slower this time. Then, almost like she’s bracing herself: “If we don’t replace that funding, I might have to cut bookmobiles, grants, tutoring, events…”
I don’t even think.
I just say, “I can help.”
Her eyes meet mine. They are wary, tired, and laced with confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll cover the gap,” I explain. “Just until you find someone else. No press, no strings. I believe in what you’re doing, Ava.”
She shakes her head instantly. “Jackson, no. I couldn’t accept something like that.”
I want to fix everything for her.
Fix what that asshole tried to break.
But I see it in her face. The lines of pride. The grit.
So, I nod. “Okay,” I say. “But I’ll be here every step of the way.”
She draws in a breath, closes her eyes. When she opens them again, there’s something softer there. Gratitude, maybe. Trust.
“I’d like that,” she whispers.
And just like that, the weight between us shifts. It’s no longer something pressing down, but something pulling us closer.
I care about her.
More than I should.
More than I’ve let myself feel in a long damn time.
The next morning, my phone buzzes as I’m about to pull out of the driveway. I see it’s a text from Greg.
Congrats on the two wins, man.
You around for dinner this week?
We should catch up.
I exhale, rolling my shoulders back against the seat.
Game tomorrow. Thursday’s open.
Why don’t you come here? The boys would love to see you.
I’ll check with Ava to make sure she’s free too.
I set the phone on the console.
I should be focused on tomorrow’s game, but my thoughts keep drifting to how naturally Ava fits into our family.
And the more I think about it, the harder it is to remember what it was like without her.
