Faking It With My Pucking Protector

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

AVA

I ’m supposed to be walking down the aisle in three minutes.

Instead, I’m in the bridal suite. A small, beautifully decorated room with ivory wallpaper and fresh peonies on the vanity. It’s meant to feel peaceful, sacred. A perfect little oasis in this corner of western Pennsylvania.

But right now, it’s the epicenter of my unraveling.

I’m frozen in place, clutching the folds of my white satin gown like it might somehow anchor me to the reality I thought I was living ten minutes ago.

Jenna’s phone is in my hand, but it might as well be a bomb. It feels like one.

The message came seconds ago, sent by a mutual friend from college who works in Brad’s office.

The text is simple:

You need to see this.

Then the images—photo after photo sharp enough to detonate my entire life before the organ even starts playing.

My fingers tremble as they swipe, each new image another blow—Brad, my fiancé, with his hands on another woman. His secretary. A hotel bed in the background. Her face close to his, blurred from movement, but the truth is clear enough to make me sick.

Brad cheated.

The shirt he’s wearing in one of the photos…

I bought him that shirt last December. He wore it to my parents’ house for Christmas. I remember because he spilled red wine on it, and I spent twenty minutes scrubbing it in their laundry room, laughing while he kissed my neck.

Just last week, he kissed my forehead in this very church. Told me I was everything he’d ever wanted. That he couldn’t wait to see me walk toward him in white.

How do you stand in a wedding dress and realize the man waiting at the altar has already betrayed the vows you haven’t even said?

“Are you okay?” Jenna’s voice is low and shaky, her eyes wide as she peers at me like I might actually combust. “Ava, talk to me. Please.”

She inches closer, like she’s afraid I’ll crumble if she moves too fast. “Do you want me to get your mom? Or your brother Greg?” Her voice quivers. “Just say the word.”

I shake my head, sharp and fast, but no words come.

She reaches for my elbow gently, her jaw tensing and eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to kill him,” she mutters, fierce and certain, her voice vibrating with a fury that makes my throat close up. “I swear to God, Ava, I’m going to kill him for doing this to you.”

There’s a screeching in my head that drowns everything else out.

Static. Pressure. White noise.

I think I’m breathing, but it doesn’t feel like it. The room is too small. The walls too close. The delicate necklace at my throat suddenly feels too constricting, like it’s suffocating me.

My reflection catches my eye in the mirror across the room, and I don’t recognize the woman staring back: pale face, makeup slightly smudged, wide eyes filled with disbelief and pain. The radiant bride from moments ago is gone, replaced by someone shattered and raw.

The photos swim as the room tilts around me, my stomach lurching like I’ve just missed a step on solid ground.

Memories continue to hit me. The late nights, the sudden guardedness with his phone, the perfume I didn’t recognize last fall. I’d asked him back then, half-joking, “Should I be worried?”

And he’d laughed, pulled me close, and told me, “You know you’re the only one I see.”

Lies. All of it.

How could I have been so stupid?

“I… I need…” I hand her the phone like it’s burning me. “I need air.”

I lunge for my clutch on instinct, snatching it from the chair where I left it earlier.

Jenna starts to say something, but a knock sounds at the door.

“Ava?” Brad’s voice is muffled but clear. “Sweetheart? Are you in there?”

My whole body locks up. Jenna’s eyes widen, then narrow with resolve. She moves fast, crossing the room and flicking the lock on the door.

“Now’s not a good time, Brad,” she calls out. Her voice doesn’t shake. “Tradition and all.”

There’s a pause. Then, “Come on, Jenna. Just for a second.”

Jenna doesn’t budge. “We’re not breaking tradition.”

Another pause. A sigh. A curse. Footsteps retreating.

She turns back to me, fierce and wild-eyed. “He’s not going to charm his way out of this. Not today.”

That’s all it takes. My knees bend before I know what I’m doing. I grab the bottom of my dress and move.

“I’ll cover for you,” Jenna says, low and steady.

The full sweep of my gown snags on a decorative chair leg. I stumble, curse under my breath, and wrench it free.

And then I’m running, pushing through the side door of the church before anyone else can see me.

Before the pianist starts playing.

Before my father steps into the aisle expecting to find his daughter ready to become a wife.

A wife to a cheater.

A liar.

The moment the door opens, cool spring air rushes against my overheated skin, and I suck it in like it’s life-saving. The music swells behind me, muffled by the thick chapel walls, but the sound is unmistakable.

They’ve started. Or they think they have.

Through the glass-paneled side door, I catch a glimpse of the crowd inside: the flutter of programs, the nervous laughs, the eager glances toward the back of the aisle. My mom. My dad. Greg. All of them waiting.

I am supposed to walk down that aisle.

I can’t do this. I can’t marry him. I can’t even breathe in that building anymore.

A fresh wave of panic claws its way through my chest. The guests. The vows. The promises built on lies. My stomach flips violently, and I squeeze my clutch tighter in my hand, knuckles whitening.

I step off the stone landing, but the heel of my shoe snags the bottom of my dress. I stumble, a tearing sound catching somewhere beneath me as the delicate hem near my ankle gives way. I push forward anyway, yanking free, breathing hard, the cold biting at my lungs.

The world tilts. And I run.

My world has cracked open, and all I can think is…

What now?

The panic doesn’t subside. If anything, it sharpens, crowding my thoughts until they’re too loud. I press a hand to my chest, but it does nothing to slow the frantic pounding of my heart. Somewhere inside the chapel, a murmur rises. Voices. More music.

A sob builds in my throat as tears stream down my face. Suddenly, a blur of motion throws me off, and I slam straight into someone. Hard.

Strong arms catch me just before I fall.

“Whoa. Hey, hey. Careful.”

The voice is deep. Familiar.

I blink up through watery vision into a pair of piercing blue eyes I’d know anywhere.

Jackson.

He steadies me, hands still lightly braced on my upper arms, brows furrowing as his eyes scan my face.

“Ava?”

He takes a small step back but doesn’t let go, eyes locked on mine.

“What happened?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My chest heaves, and I struggle to see through the tears.

I glance at the chapel, then back at him. “I can’t go back in there.”

His gaze follows mine, then returns to my face, sharper now.

More focused. Protective.

Just like I remember.

He used to get that look in middle school, too. Any time someone cornered me at my locker or called me four-eyes, Jackson always stepped in.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over my bare shoulders before I can protest. “Okay. You don’t have to. Let's get you out of here.”

I nod mutely, too stunned and too grateful to argue. He gently guides me farther away until we reach an old stone bench tucked behind a row of trees, and out of view of the chapel’s side doors.

Jackson crouches in front of me, his voice quiet but sure. “You’re safe here. Take a second. Breathe.”

I do. Or try to. The cool evening air burns my lungs, but it’s better than the suffocating heat inside. I clutch his jacket closer around me. It smells like musky cologne, fresh laundry, and something warm underneath it all…

Him .

Solid. Familiar.

“What happened, Ava?” he asks again, softer now.

And this time, the words find me.

“I found out my fiancé Brad cheated. With his secretary.”

Jackson doesn’t flinch, but his jaw tenses. “Just now?”

I nod, and a fresh tear slides down my face in a hot stream.

He exhales slowly. “You did the right thing getting out of there.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Come with me. Just for a while. Catch your breath.”

I look up at him. My brother’s best friend. A man I haven’t seen in ten years. And in this moment, the only steady thing in my world.

I nod again, because my voice still won’t work.

Jackson rises, offers me his hand, and I take it.

And for the first time in the last fifteen minutes, I feel like I might not fall apart.