Page 99 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
But because I need her.
And for the first time in a long damn time, I’m not sure I want to face nights like this alone anymore.
Then I hit the blinker, turning toward home. Toward the one place tonight that still feels steady.
Toward her.
When I get home, I kill the engine and sit there for a second, hands resting on the wheel.
There was a time when I would’ve driven past the house on nights like this. Parked somewhere else. Stayed out late. Anything to avoid coming home with this kind of loss in my gut.
But not tonight.
I grab my bag and head inside.
The door clicks softly behind me. Kitchen’s dark except for one small lamp over the stove. The faint hum of the dishwasher filters through the quiet.
I start to set my keys down, then pause when I hear movement.
Soft footsteps.
Ava rounds the corner from the living room, hair loose now, sleeves pushed up, laptop tucked under one arm.
She stops when she sees me. Eyes searching mine.
“Hey,” she says, voice soft.
I take two steps toward her before I even think.
“Hey.”
She sets the laptop on the island, crosses the rest of the way. No hesitation. No forced words. Just slides her arms around my waist like it’s always been this way.
I exhale against her hair, my own arms coming around her like they belong there.
“They asleep?” I murmur.
She nods against my chest. “Miss Taylor took them up during first period.”
She pulls back just enough to look up at me. “I know tonight was rough.”
I hold her gaze. My voice comes low, rough around the edges. “Yeah.”
I don’t offer more. Don’t need to.
Because right now, all I need is her, here, steady beneath my hands.
Her fingers flex lightly against my back. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
I press a slow kiss to her temple. “Good. Because right now, I just want this.”
She leans into me again, no questions asked. And for the first time all night, some of the weight in my chest lets go.
Ava pulls back a little, her hands smoothing down my sides as she studies me.
“You look wiped.”
I let out a sigh. “I guess I look how I feel.”
