What if I was the one refusing to choose him? To choose a future with him?
I felt the burn of unshed tears, but I pushed them down, shaking my head.
Lyla sighed softly, bumping my shoulder with hers. “For the record, I don’t think he’d leave you willingly, even if you tried to shove him away.”
A hollow laugh slipped from my lips, but the moment she turned away, something shifted inside me.
I couldn’t just sit here.
I couldn’t let this be the end.
Even if I wasn’t ready to say everything, even if I didn’t know what would happen next?—
I had to see him.
I grabbed my hoodie, shoved my hands into my pockets, and walked out the door before fear could convince me otherwise.
The concrete steps of the football house are cold beneath my feet, but I barely register it.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. Ten minutes? Twenty? Long enough for my thoughts to spin themselves into a tangled mess, replaying every possible outcome of the conversation that hasn’t even happened yet.
Will he want to see me?
Will he even care I’m here?
Or would this be the moment when Jaxon Montgomery finally stops choosing me?
That thought alone makes my stomach lurch.
The sound of tires crunching against pavement.
I don’t have to look up to know it’s him. The air shifts the wayit always does when he’s near, like some invisible pull drawing me in whether I want it to or not.
I finally force myself to raise my head, watching as he pulls into the driveway, his truck rolling to a stop.
For a moment, he doesn’t move.
He just stares, and so do I.
He looks…tired, like he hasn’t slept in days. His dark hair is a mess, his shoulders drawn tight, his expression unreadable beneath the dim glow of the streetlight.
The truck door slams shut, the sound echoing in the quiet night, and I instinctively curl my fingers into the sleeves of my hoodie, bracing for whatever is about to happen.
His heavy, deliberate footsteps cross the pavement, stopping just a few feet from me.
And then, finally?—
“Mads?”
His voice is careful, guarded, like he’s bracing for something.
Like he’s preparing for me to hurt him.
Again.
It nearly breaks me.
I look up, my breath catching at the way his jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides, like he’s fighting every instinct he has to protect himself.
