Page 20 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
Brad’s laugh is short and bitter. “You don’t know anything about our relationship.”
“I know she doesn’t want to see you,” I say, keeping my voice level. “And that showing up uninvited and tracking her location is a good way to get the cops involved.”
He scoffs, but he’s backpedaling now. “Ava, please. Just five minutes. I can explain everything.”
She doesn’t answer. Her arms wrap firmly across her chest, and her eyes haven’t left his face, like she’s trying to figure out who he really is. And maybe, for the first time, she’s seeing it clearly.
I turn back to Brad. “Get off my property.Now.”
He hesitates. One last look at Ava like he’s waiting for her to change her mind.
She doesn’t.
Finally, he mutters something under his breath and stalks off down the steps, the flowers still clutched in his hand.
I reach out and shut the front door with a firm click.
Then I hear his car door slam, and a second later, gravel scatters under his tires as he peels out of the driveway.
Ava is pale. Shaking a little.
I want to reach for her. Touch her shoulder, steady her. But I stop myself because I know right now, she needs space more than anything.
“You okay?”
She stares at the floor, stunned. Her mouth opens, then closes again. “He must’ve had that tracking app installed for who knows how long. Before the wedding… before everything.”
Her voice cracks.
I keep my tone even, but my blood’s boiling.
“Let’s get it off your phone. Right now.”
She doesn’t argue.
And as she hands me her phone and I uninstall anything that even remotely looks like he could use it to track her, all I can think is:
This guy’s not just an ex.
He’s a threat.
And now I know what I’m dealing with.
Then I nod toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s get you some water.”
She follows mechanically, like her body’s on autopilot, her footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood. I grab her a glass and fill it with water, placing it gently on the island.
She doesn’t reach for it right away; just stands there, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the darkened screen of her phone like it might bite her.
Her breath shudders as she finally picks up the glass and takes a slow sip. I watch her fingers tremble slightly as she sets it back down.
“I still can’t believe…” She trails off, then looks up at me. Her voice is raw. “He would do something like that.”
“He cheated. Then followed you here,” I say, keeping my voice even. “That’s not about getting closure. That’s about control.”
A flicker of anger crosses her face. A long beat passes. Then she exhales shakily and gives me a faint, sideways glance. “Thanks for not decking him on the porch.”
I crack a grin. “It took a lot of willpower.”
