Page 150 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector

“I didn’t mean to...” he starts, his brow furrowing. “I came into the office one morning and saw the box. I wanted to wait… to give you space to come to me.”

My fingers tremble so badly I flatten them against my thighs to keep them still.

“I think… I might be pregnant,” I admit finally, the words so quiet they barely exist in the air between us. “I’ve been too afraid to take the test. I keep telling myself I’ll do it, but I can’t.”

A tear slips free, but I don’t bother to wipe it away.

“Everything in my life has already changed so fast,” I go on, my voice catching. “And I thought… maybe if I waited, I could hold on to how things are right now. Just a little longer.”

When I look up again, he’s closer, his eyes warm and steady, like he’s trying to hold all of me together just by standing there.

“You’re not facing this alone,” he says, voice low and rough with emotion.

I blink at him, tears streaming down my cheeks now, unstoppable.

My lips tremble. I close my eyes as a sob slips out—quiet and sharp.

He exhales, then continues, “No matter what that test says, I’m here with you.”

A shiver runs through me, relief and terror twisting together. I drag in a shaky breath, nod, but the words won’t come.

He closes the final bit of space between us, his good hand reaching out slowly. He cups my jaw gently, his thumb brushing the tears from my cheek.

He knows the truth, and he’s still here. Still looking at me like I’m someone he wants to stand beside. And that changes everything. It doesn’t erase the uncertainty, but it gives me something stronger to lean on.

Relief washes in first, then gratitude, then a fragile sort of bravery that feels brand new.

“I know I can’t put it off forever.”

A tiny tremor passes through me as I glance at him. His gaze is steady, warm. A quiet anchor.

When I speak again, my voice is barely more than a whisper. “Will you... stay with me while I take it?”

His expression softens in a way that cracks something open in my chest. He nods, his thumb tracing small, steady circles against my fingers.

“Of course,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Forty-Six

JACKSON

Ilean against the wall outside the bathroom. There’s only a door between us, but it feels like she’s miles away.

Uncertainty edges in.

Is this happening too soon?

I rub a hand over my face, forcing my thoughts to steady. She needs me here, solid and present.

Not spinning out.

Inside, I hear the faint shift of her feet against the tile. My fingers tap lightly against my thigh—restless, useless movement. Everysecond stretches, taut and heavy, until the doorknob finally turns.

My head snaps up.

Ava steps out, one hand braced on the frame like she’s holding herself up. Her eyes meet mine, wide and uncertain, and my pulse hammers hard enough I feel it in my throat. Everything in me wants to close the distance, to ask, to fix, but I wait.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Will you… look with me?”