6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
JACKSON
T he second I open the door and see him standing there, I don’t need an introduction to know who he is.
Brad.
It’s obvious. A practiced look of concern in his eyes, and a bouquet of crushed white flowers dangling from one hand like they’re supposed to fix something.
I step fully in front of her before I even realize I’m doing it.
Behind me, Ava’s breath hitches like she’s been punched, and I feel her go completely still.
“Hey,” Brad says, tone casual. Too casual. “Ava. Thank God.”
I turn to Ava, meeting her eyes. “You want him gone?”
She nods once, jaw set.
I turn back to Brad. “You need to leave.”
“I just want to talk to her.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Ava’s voice is small behind me, but clear. “How… how did you know I was here?”
Brad hesitates for a beat too long. Then shrugs. “Jenna or your brother must’ve said something.”
I glance over my shoulder. Ava’s eyes narrow slightly.
“No,” she says slowly. “They wouldn’t.”
Brad shifts, and his confidence flickers.
“I remembered we had that location-sharing app,” he finally says, trying to sound casual. “The one we used when we traveled. I figured maybe it was still active. I checked, and…”
My jaw locks and I clench my fists at my sides. It takes everything in me not to grab him by the shirt and shove him off my damn porch.
Ava stares at him, horrified. “You tracked me?”
“It’s not like that.” He raises his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do, Ava. You wouldn’t answer. You vanished.”
I plant my feet. “You mean she left you.”
Brad scowls, eyes flicking over me. “And who the hell are you?”
“Someone who actually gives a damn about her well-being,” I say evenly. “Now leave.”
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.”
It’s a little forced, but she smiles. She presses the heel of her palm to her forehead. “This is insane.”
“You’re not wrong about that.”
I reach for her phone again, checking the privacy settings once more. “No more tracking. And I disabled anything that could be remotely turned back on. He won’t get anything else from this.”
She nods, still watching me. “Jackson…”
“Yeah?”
Her voice is quieter now. “Thank you.”
“You’re safe here.”
Her lips twitch. “You are still protecting me like always.”
Some things don’t change. Keeping her safe still feels like breathing.
I let the quiet settle between us.
“Would you still like to come to the rink?” I ask.
She hesitates for just a second, but nods. “Yeah. I do.”
Good.
Because after the morning she’s had, she deserves a distraction.
And if I’m being honest, I want her there.
The front door opens with a soft creak, followed by the rhythmic click of Miss Taylor’s heels on the hardwood.
A moment later, she rounds the corner into the kitchen, setting her keys on the counter.
“Twins are dropped off,” she says, then her eyes flick over us with a hint of concern.
“Everything all right?”
“We’re okay,” I say. “Just… a morning.”
Her eyes flick briefly to Ava, who manages a faint nod, her arms still crossed, tension still lingering around her shoulders.
Miss Taylor doesn’t pry. Just offers a gentle smile.
“Well,” she says gently, “I’ll be out back if you need anything.”
She gives a little wave, then steps out through the mudroom door that leads outside to the guest house.
I glance at Ava. “You ready?”
She nods, still a little pale but steadier now. “Yeah, let me just grab a jacket.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking into the SteelClaws’ practice facility. The facility is sleek and sprawling, tucked into a quiet suburb just outside Pittsburgh.
The familiar chill hits the second we step through the players’ entrance: crisp and clean, the way it always smells after the Zambonis made their rounds. A few guys are already on the ice, their blades cutting clean through the quiet, punctuated only by the snap of pucks against the boards.
“You can sit over there if you want,” I say, nodding toward a section of seats just above the glass, off to the side. “That’s where scouts usually hang out. You’ll see everything, and as a bonus, you won’t catch a puck to the face.”
I attempt a joke, but she just tugs her jacket sleeves over her hands and gives a distracted nod.
“Okay.”
I tap the glass once before heading toward the locker room. “See you after.”
By the time I hit the ice, she’s in the stands watching, coffee in hand and legs crossed under her.
We run drills for the next hour. Puck control, passing lanes, forechecks. Coach keeps us moving fast, barking out corrections and pacing along the boards like he’s got caffeine running through his veins.
But every time we round toward her side of the rink, I catch myself looking over at her, my thoughts still back on Brad showing up at my house after tracking Ava.
I’m pissed, but I keep it in, pushing the frustration into my legs as I skate harder, faster.
Russo pulls up next to me.
“Who’s that?” He asks, looking pointedly at Ava.
I shoot him a look. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” he says, grinning. “Just observing.”
“Observe quieter.”
He snorts and peels off toward the net.
My hands tighten around my stick as I zone back into practice, trying to push it out of my mind. But it lingers. It doesn’t sit right. I want to make damn sure nothing like that ever happens again. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’s safe from him.
Then a thought edges in, one I didn’t expect.
What if he thought she’d moved on?
What if it looked like she wasn’t just staying with me, but with me?
Not for real. Just enough to make him believe it and give him a reason to back the hell off without her having to keep looking over her shoulder.
I keep skating, let the idea settle in. That thought sticks all the way to the final whistle.
Practice ends, and Coach calls us in for a quick breakdown and clears the ice. I head for the tunnel and spot Ava already standing from the bench, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets.
“What did you think?” I ask as I approach.
“No one even threw a punch,” she answers. “Mildly disappointing.”
I laugh, tugging off my helmet. “You’d have better luck seeing that if you came to a game.”
A thought pops into my head.
“You ever been on skates?”
She shakes her head. “Not unless you count that one time I held onto a wall for twenty minutes in seventh grade.”
Then she narrows her eyes. “Why?”
I stretch my arms out, feeling the satisfying pull in my shoulders. “Might be time. You watched me skate. Seems only fair.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Jackson.”
“What?”
“I will fall on my ass.”
I grin. “Yeah, but I’ll catch you.”
She doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t say no, either.
As she walks beside me toward the locker hallway, her steps sound lighter than they were this morning.
We reach the edge of the hallway where players split off. Locker rooms one way, visitor tunnel the other. I pause, motioning toward a bench nearby.
“Give me fifteen to change and rinse off?” I ask.
Ava nods and takes a seat. She tucks one leg under her and rests her hands in her lap, fingers absently playing with the hem of her sleeve.
I hesitate for a moment.
“Actually, there’s something I’ve been thinking about.”
Her brow furrows slightly, waiting for me to continue.
“Just an idea,” I add. “What if we were to consider… fake dating?”
She blinks, caught off guard.
“Sorry. What?”
I sit on the bench next to her.
“Not for real. Just public enough to keep Brad from pulling something like this again.”
She stares at me, clearly confused.
“You want to pretend we’re together?”
I shrug, trying to keep it casual. “It might help. If he thinks you’ve moved on, it could make him back off.”
Ava studies me like she’s waiting for the punchline. But there isn’t one.
I stand, keeping my tone light.
“I thought it could be an option to consider.”
She shakes her head, her breath catching.
“Jackson… you’ve already done so much. I can’t ask you to pretend to be my boyfriend on top of everything else.”
I nod, understanding. “Fair enough. Just say the word if you change your mind.”
But as I walk to the locker room, one thought keeps circling.
We used to pretend all kinds of things when we were kids: spies, superheroes, secret agents.
Back then, it was just a game. Me looking out for her because it made her laugh, because it felt right.
Now?
I’d do it in a heartbeat.