Page 88 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector

The words hang there, too loud in the quiet room.

He exhales hard, runs a hand through his hair. Then something shifts in his eyes, raw and unguarded.

"I’m not pretending," he admits quietly. "Not anymore."

Relief crashes into me so fast it almost knocks me off balance. The coil in my chest loosens just enough to let me breathe, even as a thousand new questions bloom underneath.

He hesitates, then steps closer.

"When I pulled away, it wasn’t because I didn’t want you, Ava. I pulled away because Idid. Because it felt real, and I wasn’t ready for that."

"Claire was the last person I..." He trails off, a flicker of pain crossing his face, and I feel the weight of it settle in my chest.

His voice breaks off for a second. He steadies it. "Since she died, I haven’t let myself be close to anyone. Not like that."

I let out a shaky breath, trying to make sense of everything. His words sink in slowly, the weight of them pressing down on me. It wasn’t about me. It was about him. About everything he’s been carrying with Claire, and I didn’t see it.

“I didn’t know how much it was still hurting you,” I whisper, almost to myself. “I thought maybe you regretted what happened between us. I didn’t realize…”

I pause, feeling the weight of the words. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

Jackson runs a hand through his hair, eyes flicking to mine. “I didn’t mean to confuse you, Ava. I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rough.

My heart pounds as I take a step forward, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for, Jackson. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t want more. I want this. I want you.”

“I want this, too,” he says, his eyes unwavering. “I’m not walking away from this, Ava. Not from you.”

He takes another step, so close now I can feel the heat of him. His hand lifts, hesitates for a breath, then traces my jaw with aching tenderness.

“Ava,” he says, his voice low and steady. His gaze locks onto mine, firm and sure.

“You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel again," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "You make me remember what it means to truly let someone in. I want this, Ava. I want all of you."

He pauses and then, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

My breath catches, everything inside me tipping forward at once.

“Yes,” I whisper, my chest swelling with joy.

And in the next instant, his mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s nothing like I’ve experienced before.

It’s slow. Deep. Intentional. No hesitation. No pretense.

Just us.

The kiss deepens, and I melt against him. His fingers tighten at my waist, anchoring me there, like letting go isn’t an option anymore.

Everything about this feels different. Not a cover for anyone else’s eyes.

Just him. Just me.

When he finally breaks the kiss, his forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing hard.

“I need you,” he breathes, forehead pressed to mine. “All of you.”

Something in him breaks loose then. His mouth crashes back to mine, fiercer now. His hands slide under my shirt, every inch of skin he touches sets me on fire.

He lifts me, one arm under my legs, the other steadying my back, and I’m cradled against his chest.