I don’t care about any of it. All I care about is her.
Madison is moving fast, practically weaving through the front yard, and I swear, I’ve never had to work this hard to catch someone in my life.
Right as she reaches the sidewalk, I grab her wrist, my fingers wrapping gently but firmly around her skin.
"Mads, wait?—"
She whirls around so fast, I nearly stumble back from the sheer force.
Her eyes are fire, blazing with confusion and anger, her chest rising and falling like she can’t catch her breath.
"Is that what this is to you? Just temporary until the draft? Are there even other teams outside of the East Coast that are interested?"
My stomach drops.
Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I know this wasn’t how she was supposed to find out.
Her chest is rising and falling too fast. I can see ithappening: her breathing shifting, her hands curling into fists at her sides, her whole body tight, like she’s trying to hold herself together.
Like she’s bracing for impact.
I step closer, keeping my voice calm. “Mads, it’s not that simple?—”
“Bullshit,” she snaps, her eyes flashing as she shoves at my chest, putting space between us. “Don’t lie to me. This is exactly what I told Lyla would happen. I’d let myself fall for you, then you’d leave, just like everyone else has.”
My jaw tightens, my heart pounding against my ribs. “No, Mads. I don’t want to leave you at all. That’s the problem. You think I wanted to tell you like this?”
She lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Tell me like what, Jaxon? What the hell were you waiting for?”
I rake a hand through my hair, frustrated, feeling this whole thing slipping away. "I was waiting for the right time-"
"Well, congratulations." She throws her arms out, her entire body humming with anger. "The right time sure as hell isn't now."
I exhale through my nose, forcing myself to stay calm, trying not to match her energy. If I do, we’re not getting anywhere. She has every right to be pissed at me for not telling her.
“Mads,” I start again, softer this time, “just—just let me explain?—”
"Explain what, Jax?" She takes a step back, her hands shaking, her eyes guarded in a way I haven’t seen in months.
I hate it. I hate that look, hate even more that I put it there.
Her voice cracks slightly when she asks, "Why did you even transfer here three years later?"
I inhale sharply, my throat tight. I give her the truth. "Because you called me."
Madison blinks, her whole body going still. “What?”
I reach into my pocket, gripping my phone like it’s a damn lifeline. “You called me, Mads. Last April, you left me a message.”
She laughs—short and disbelieving. "No, I didn’t."
"Yeah," I murmur, "you did."
She shakes her head, her whole face twisting like I just told her the sky isn’t blue. “I don’t remember that. You’re making this up.”
She turns, her whole body wound tight, like she’s running before she even takes a step.
Before she can get far, I press play. The second her voice comes through the speaker, she freezes. The recording is staticky, slurred at first, but then?—
