The man who stars in every one of my happy dreams, standing in the doorway, the morning light catching on his sharp jawline, his dark hair still damp from a shower, his hoodie stretched over his broad frame. His gaze sweeps the shop, scanning the crowd, searching?—
Until he finds me.
The second our eyes lock, the world slows.
My stomach clenches, something tight and aching curling low in my chest. His jaw ticks, his broad shoulders stiffen?—
And then, just as quickly, his expression smooths into something unreadable. His posture goes rigid.
I swallow hard, gripping my coffee like it's about to run away. He sees me sitting with Carter, sees Carter lounging in the chair beside me, his arm casually draped across the back of my chair—not touching me, just his usual relaxed posture, the way he sits with all his friends.
Something that looks a lot like hurt flashes in Jaxon's eyes before he nods, simply acknowledging my presence. He gives a quick, curt dip of his chin, his mouth pressed into a flat line.
My heart stumbles over itself. Why? I'm not so sure. No, that's a lie. I know exactly why. Because despite every wall I've built, every excuse I've made, every reason I've given myself for why we can't be together, I still want him. I still crave the way he looks at me, the way he says my name, the way he makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I'm not as broken as I think I am.
Before I can say anything, Carter calls out, "Yo, Jax! Come sit with us."
"Nah man, gotta get going. Changed my mind on the coffee." Jaxon turns around on the spot and is back out the door before I can blink.
Carter gives me a look. It’s not a smug one, not teasing—just… knowing. Like he saw the way Jaxon's whole body went stiff the second he saw me sitting with him. Like he's daring me to pretend I didn't feel that moment shift.
I grip my coffee tighter, my stomach twisting, my pulse still rattling in my chest. The voice in my head is at war now.Let him go. It's better this way. You'll only hurt him.But beneath that, quieter but persistent:Go after him. Don't let him walk away again. Don't make the same mistake twice.
Lyla leans in, voice low but sharp. "Why are you still sitting here?"
I blink. "What?"
She jerks her chin toward the door where Jaxon is already walking away, broad shoulders tense beneath his hoodie. "You need to go after him. Catch up. Explain."
"Lyla, I?—"
She cuts me off. "Mads. You can keep pretending you don't care, but we both know that's bullshit."
Carter snorts. "For once, I agree with her."
Lyla cuts him a glare before flipping him off. "Look, I've watched you dance around this for weeks. You're my friend, not my project, so I won't tell you what to do. But I will tell you whatever you think you're protecting yourself from? It's not working. You're just making yourself more miserable."
My breath catches. The weight in my chest—the one I've been trying to shove down since the party—presses harder. Jaxon just walked away. He gave me a nod and then left. Because of me.
Go after him,the voice whispers.Before it's too late.
But what if it already is?the other one counters.What if you're just going to make it worse?
What if you don't and regret it forever?
Shit.
I push back my chair, ignoring the way Lyla and Carter exchange knowing glances, and rush toward the door. The cool air slaps me in the face the second I step outside, but I barely feel it.
"Jaxon!"
He doesn't stop.
"Jaxon!" I try again, louder this time, my voice cracking. My shoes hit the pavement hard as I break into a run.
He's still walking, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind. Or maybe against me. The distance between us feels like miles, even though it's only a few yards.
"Montgomery!" I yell, desperation clawing up my throat. "Would you just?—"
