Page 9 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
I don’t listen to any of them.
Tossing the phone back on the bed, I wrap my arms around myself and close my eyes.
A knock sounds on the door, light and tentative.
“Ava?” It’s Jackson. His voice is low, like he’s afraid to startle me. “You up?”
I swallow hard. “Yes. I’m awake.”
The door opens a crack and Jackson peeks in, holding a steaming mug.
“Didn’t want to barge in,” he says. “Feel free to come downstairs and grab some breakfast when you want. Figured you might want some coffee.”
I breathe in the scent and close my eyes for half a second. “That smells amazing.”
He steps inside and hands it to me. “Milk, no sugar, right?”
I blink. “How did you know?”
He gives a small shrug. “Greg mentioned it when I called him last night. Said you’d probably want it that way.”
I take the mug, the warmth of it grounding me a little. “Thanks.”
I glance at the phone still resting on the bed. My stomach knots again.
“Did Greg… tell our parents?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jackson nods slowly. “He said he would. I’m not sure what he told them, but he promised to give you space. Just wanted you to know you’re not alone.”
I close my eyes briefly, guilt prickling under my skin. “My mom is probably losing it.”
“She’s your mom,” he says gently. “That’s kind of her job.”
A shaky breath slips out of me, and I nod. “I should’ve called them. I just… can’t. Not yet.”
Jackson doesn’t leave right away. His eyes flick to the phone still lit on the bed, then back to me.
“Let me know if you want to chuck that thing out the window. I’ll bring the shovel and help you bury it.”
A surprised laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Tempting.”
He smiles and I catch a dimple. “How about just coffee for now?”
I nod with a small smile. “That I can handle.”
The doorbell rings and I grab the mug even harder.
It can’t be Brad, can it?
As if he could read my mind, Jackson holds his hands up. “It’s Jenna. Greg gave her my address. She wanted to see you. Okay if I send her up?”
I let out a breath of relief and nod sheepishly.
He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he stands up and heads out.
I’m halfway through the mug when I hear footsteps. They are lighter this time, followed by a soft knock.
“Ava?”
