Catching Pretty (Lovely Broken Doll #2)

34. Ava

AVA

A ll day, the small vial of paralytic burned a hole in my mind.

The idea of drugging Ty and escaping hung over me like a storm cloud, constantly shifting between hope and dread.

I could slip it into his drink, watch him go limp, and finally get out of Blackthorn Hall.

I’d be free.

But there was no denying the risks—the thought of his furious gaze, the potential consequences if he caught me, sent chills down my spine.

I went back and forth in my mind, wavering, one second resolute, the next hesitant.

The vial felt heavier by the hour, the guilt gnawing at me as much as the desperation for freedom did.

Ty wasn’t just my captor; he was complicated—sometimes kind, sometimes cruel, always unreadable. And there was this unsettling truth that, despite everything, some part of me didn’t want to betray him like that .

But wasn’t he the one betraying me by keeping me here?

A sudden sound of the door panel sliding aside pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at the door to find a small silver tray with a bowl being pushed inside the panel door.

The scent of the strawberries washed over me as I brought them to my spot on the couch, a scent that pulled me back—way back. A memory surfaced, unbidden, so vivid it might as well have been happening before my eyes.

Ciaran set me roughly on the bench in the kitchen. “What the fuck were you thinking, Ava?”

I listed to the side, a hiccup falling from my mouth as my head lolled.

“Jesus—” he muttered as he caught me and set me right again, the roughness of his hands stirring something in me that scared me more than his fury.

I pushed his hands away and forced myself to sit upright. “I’m f-fine.”

“You’re drunk.” Ciaran shot me a judgmental glare before he walked stiffly to the sink.

Moonlight drifted in from the window and cast strange shadows from the fragrant mint, lavender, and wild thyme the professor had hung to dry.

The muscles along Ciaran’s strong back tensed and flexed as he poured water into a glass and despite the alcohol warming my insides, I shivered.

I’d called the wrong twin to come rescue me from the underage high school party.

Ty never would treat me with such contempt.

If it had been Ty who picked me up off the floor of that spinning bathroom, he would have taken me to his bed here at Blackthorn Hall and applied cold compresses to my pounding forehead while whispering that I was safe in his arms.

Why did I instinctively call the boy who despised me instead?

Ciaran gripped the edge of the farm sink with knuckles which shined white in the moonlight and dropped his head to breathe sharp, ragged breaths.

I considered making a run for it.

How quickly could Ty come to me if I called his name down the long dark hallway? What would Ciaran do if he caught me first?

My uncertainty paralyzed me and soon it was too late as Ciaran turned to me in the dark.

I could feel his shadowed eyes on me and adrenaline battled the alcohol in my veins.

He crossed to the fridge and I tracked his every step, fearful of what he would do next. The glare of bluish-white light made me wince and when I shielded my stinging eyes, I lost my balance again. I would have fallen had Ciaran not wrenched angrily at my shoulder to right me.

His fingers hurt me, surely digging in deep enough to bruise later. With tears pricking at my eyes, I twisted out of his grip.

“I said I was fine,” I slurred.

Ciaran remained dangerously silent as he struck a match in the dark. He lit a candle, thick with drips of wax, and set it on the table behind me.

I felt the heat of his eyes, which seemed almost black against the flame.

He pressed the cool glass against my lips.

“Drink,” Ciaran commanded, his voice strained and tight.

Parting my dry lips and tipping up my chin, I closed my eyes to drink. I’d never tasted water so fresh and delicious .

I drank till Ciaran pulled the glass away, whispering, “Easy.”

I opened my eyes to see that Ciaran’s hands were shaking as he placed the glass back on the table. Did I disgust him so much? Was I that unbearable to be near?

With heavy, irritable breathing, Ciaran forced my knees apart, wedging his legs between mine.

I felt vulnerable in that position, pinned between his hard body and the cupboard behind my head, my chest heaving in fear, the breeze from the window stealing under my miniskirt.

Ciaran did nothing to make me feel more comfortable. If anything, his anger seemed to grow as he stared down at me, unmoving, unspeaking.

His stillness terrified me even as his proximity inflamed my skin from head to toe.

When Ciaran reached for something beside me, I flinched.

He held up a strawberry which he’d plucked from the bowl beside me.

I was so anxious and still really drunk. The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

“One day… in my future house… I want a strawberry patch.”

I searched Ciaran’s face for any reaction at all. But his gaze was icy beneath his dark brows and his beautiful lips did not even twitch.

“Eat.”

I opened my mouth for him. His gaze followed the strawberry as I gently bit down on it.

I felt the heat of his fury and almost couldn’t swallow.

I chewed slowly, taking more and more tiny bites until I’d reached the stem, my eyes only on him.

He plucked another strawberry from the bowl and held it up.

This time when I opened my mouth, Ciaran traced it around my lips. I could feel the juice smearing onto my skin; I longed to lick it, but he plunged it deep into my mouth.

I bit the whole strawberry off, stickiness gathering around my mouth, his eyes fixed on my lips, pupils flashing black in the candlelight.

“What else do you want?” Ciaran asked, surprising me.

I didn’t think he heard me. Or if he did, he didn’t care.

I tried to tell myself to keep quiet. I didn’t want to share what I held so precious inside my heart. I feared in his cruelty that he would crush it, my fragile dreams.

But I was drunk and nervous around Ciaran. And I’d secretly longed for someone to share myself with, just like all lonely orphans always do.

“I want a big library with a view of the sea,” I said before I could stop myself. “It will be filled with light. The shelves will be the color of driftwood and the couches the color of sea glass. And the books will be faded from the sun with pages bent and yellowed from long days on the beach.”

My knees trembled against Ciaran’s legs and my heart pounded painfully in my chest. I felt like I was getting more drunk instead of less.

I continued. “Each room will be light and airy and have blue drapes the color of…” Your eyes. “…of cornflowers. And our— my —bedroom will have a peaked ceiling and overlook the sea. There’ll be an antique writing desk beside a sunny window. And a large comfortable bed piled high with the softest pillows.”

I watched, sure that I’d said something wrong, as Ciaran bit into a strawberry, the red juice as bright as blood in the flickering flame. The corners of his wet lips curled up and my veins went cold with fear.

If he laughed at me, I would die .

I was frozen in place, expectant of the worst, as he leaned forward and motioned for me to take a bite myself.

I kept my eyes fixed on his, searching for a hint about how he would hurt me. Because Ciaran always found a way to hurt me.

He caught a drop of juice from my lower lip. “Would you have a porch… where we could drink tea?”

His hair brushed along my cheek as he reached past me to grab another strawberry. He’d left me staring, wide-eyed and wary.

I didn’t trust the sincerity in his voice, but when he touched the strawberry gently to my lips, I saw in his eyes that he was still waiting for an answer.

“Yes, a large wraparound porch,” I whispered before I bit the fruit he offered, letting the sweet taste melt on my tongue.

I didn’t tell him that there had always been a boy on my porch, too. Always in the shadows. Always just a silhouette. I hadn’t let myself paint him in. Yet.

Ciaran’s face moved dangerously close to mine.

I gripped the bench more tightly.

“What about a forest nearby so I could chase you through it?” he asked.

Goosebumps erupted along my arms.

Pine drifted in through my nostrils, even through the thick fragrance of the drying herbs. Pine and salt water. Rich earth and his musk.

“Yes,” I said, hypnotized by his eyes. “Pines, I think.”

“Pines,” he echoed.

The candlelight seemed to enclose us in a world of our own. I had only meant to show Ciaran my dream house, not open the doors to it.

But whether it was the alcohol or the steadying pressure of his legs against mine, I suddenly found him there wherever I looked .

“The house shouldn’t be too big,” I said, breathing a little too quickly, “so that we can always find each other without having to yell.”

“Unless I’m up on the small rooftop terrace with the telescope,” he replied, encouraging another bite of strawberry.

Though it was fleeting and hesitant, Ciaran smiled, and for a moment, it transformed him. It softened the hard edges of his face, a rare warmth breaking through his usual cruel mask.

His lips curved slightly, almost uncertain, but the effect was undeniable—it was beautiful, a glimpse of something hidden beneath the layers of darkness he carried.

I clung to the rare sight of it like a shooting star. But just like the shooting stars, it was gone too soon.

Ciaran ran his thumb along my cheek. I shivered from his touch.

“But we should always go together to count the stars,” I said.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I promise to never look at the stars without you.”

Ciaran seemed distant as he took another strawberry from the plate. I saw in his eyes that he wasn’t there with me in the glow of the candle in the kitchen of Blackthorn Hall.

He was already at the house, our house.

My heart leaped with a cold panic. He had to take me with him. I wouldn’t let him go there without me.

When Ciaran absentmindedly brought the strawberry to his lips, I snatched it from his fingers and replaced it at his lips with my own. A deep warmth spread through me as I kissed him. He kissed me back, if only for a moment.

He stood abruptly and I fell back against the edge of the table behind me, my legs still spread between his. The next time the breeze came in through the window, carrying with it a soft hint of lavender, it chilled a small wet spot on my panties.

Ciaran was breathing heavily, just like me.

My feelings for my bully made sense.

That’s when I fell in love with Ciaran.

It should have been Ty. The kind brother.

But for the stupidest reason, I’d fallen in love with my bully first all those years ago.

It sealed my choice.

I promised my shadow that I would do what I had to do to come back to him. I would make the sacrifices. Suffer the penalties. Carry the weight of the consequences.

Nothing mattered more than him.

I would find my way back to him. No matter what.

I would drug Ty.

And I would escape.