Page 67 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
“He doesn’t know when to quit, does he?” My voice is low. Clipped.
She blinks once, twice. “I blocked him on my phone but forgot about my email.”
Her hand hovers over the trackpad for a second longer. Then, with one quick movement, she clicks and deletes the message. Moves straight to her settings. Blocks his email address. Done.
Her jaw hardens as she deletes the email, but her hand shakes when she sets the mouse down. Just for a second, but I notice it.
Something in me snaps.
I hate that Brad still has that kind of hold on her, that he can get under her skin with nothing but a subject line.
I want to find him and make damn sure he never looks at her again.
But I don’t say any of that out loud.
Instead, I reach across the table and cover her hand with mine. Just enough to steady her. To say: You’re not alone.
She looks up, startled at first. But she doesn’t pull away.
“Have you ever been to New Jersey?” I ask gently.
Her lips part, then close again. The tension in her brow eases just a little.
“A few times,” she says, her voice quieter now. “Mostly for conferences. I’ve never really seen the city.”
“Well,” I say, keeping my tone light, “this time you’ll get the full experience. Playoff madness and overpriced room service. Maybe we’ll even squeeze in something touristy.”
She finally smiles at that.
“I should start thinking about what to pack,” she says.
And not for the first time, I think to myself I’d do anything to keep her looking like this.
Steady. Safe. Smiling.
Brad’s not going to steal that from her again.
Not while I’m around.
Chapter Nineteen
AVA
The crowd is louder than I expected. Louder, fiercer, electric in a way that pulses straight through my chest. I’ve watched Jackson play before, but this is different.
This is the playoffs. And New Jersey knows it.
I’m in the guest section, the small block of seats reserved for family and partners. Russo’s wife gives me a little wave, and I return it with a smile. I’ve met most of the other women before, but the energy tonight is something else entirely.
Everyone’s on edge, but in a good way.
Charged. Ready.
And I’m glad I’m here.
Glad for the noise, the distance, the change of scenery. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until now. Just being out of Pennsylvania, and out of my own head, has let me breathe again. Being here with Jackson, even if it’s under the pretense of a fake relationship, has made everything feel a little less heavy.
I tell myself it’s just a trip. A way to support him. Not a test of whatever this is between us. But part of me still wonders if that night was a mistake to him. A heat-of-the-moment thing he regrets.
