Later in the locker room, when I finally step out of the shower, towel slung over my shoulder, I grab my phone from my locker. The screen lights up with a single unread message, and my heart rate speeds before I even read it.
Mads
You can pick me up at three tomorrow.
My stomach clenches, a mixture of relief and anticipation flooding through me. She said yes. I type back before I overthink things too much, keeping it short and sweet.
See you then
Then, I shove my phone into my bag, a smirk playing at my lips.
For the first time in a long time, it feels like we're finally heading in the right direction.
20
MADISON
My room looks like a war zone.
Clothes are scattered across my bed, draped over my desk chair, even hanging off my full-length mirror, where I tossed a sweater in frustration. I stare at the mess, hands on my hips, my stomach twisting into knots.
I don’t knowwhyI’m nervous. It’s just dinner, just Jaxon’s parents, the people who practically raised me, who fed me more home-cooked meals than I ever had at my own house.
But it’s been a long time since I sat at that table, since I let myselfbelongthere.
And that changes things.
With a sigh, I finally settle on an outfit—denim shorts, a semi-snug tank top that doesn’t feel like too much but isn’tnothing, and an oversized cardigan to make me feel a little more like myself. Birkenstocks adorn my feet, hair twisted back into a loose claw clip, minimal makeup—casual. Easy.
I’m still adjusting the cardigan when I hear a knock at my door.
"Mads, you ready?"
Shit.
"One sec!" I call, rushing to grab my phone from the nightstand before padding toward the door.
When I open it, Jaxon is leaning against the frame, his dark hair messed up in all the right places, looking entirely too good in jeans and a plain white tee that somehow makes his arms look even bigger than they already are. He gives me a once-over, smirking slightly.
"You changed outfits at least ten times, didn’t you?"
I narrow my eyes. "Shut up."
He chuckles, not arguing, and I step back to let him in. "You can come in. I just need, like, two more minutes."
He nods, walking inside and glancing around as I disappear back into my bathroom to check my reflection one more time.
When I come back out, he’s standing by my dresser in my room, staring at something.
I swallow hard when I realizewhat.
Pictures.
Pictures I never kept hidden, even when I told myself I would.
There are a handful of them tucked into the frame of my mirror—most of them old, slightly faded, from high school and even earlier. Jaxon and me at the lake, grinning with sunburned cheeks. Jaxon mid-laugh at my sixteenth birthday, frosting on his nose from where I’d smashed cake in his face. The two of us at one of his football banquets, him in a too-tight dress shirt, me with my arms around his waist, both of us smiling wide.
His fingers brush one of the edges, and he exhales softly. "Didn’t think you’d still have these around."
