I shake my head, stepping back. "Go eat your ice cream, Lyla."
She winks. "See you around, Montgomery."
And just like that, the door swings shut.
I stand there for a second, my head still spinning. My jaw clenches, my hands flexing at my sides as I let out a slow breath.
That was way too close.
Even so, as I turn back toward my car, all I can think about is the way Madison looked at me before the door opened.
22
MADISON
The second the bathroom door swings shut behind me, I press my back against it, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to breathe.
My heart is still racing, my skin still burning, my mind still stuck in the moment that almost happened. The way Jaxon looked at me, like he was seconds from closing that last bit of space between us, the heat of him so close, his chest against mine, the way I stopped thinking, stopped breathing?—
God, I was going to let him kiss me.
I press my fingers against my lips, like I'll be able to feel something there, even though it never happened. Even though Lyla had to fling the door open at the exact wrong moment, like the universe couldn't bear to let me have that. The phantom sensation of his breath against my skin lingers, a haunting reminder of how close we came.
Because I was going to let it happen.
I don't know what would've come after, don't know what it would've meant—but I do know if she hadn't opened that door, Jaxon Montgomery would've kissed me.
And worse? I wanted him to, so badly that the ache still pulses through me, sharp and insistent, refusing to let me forget.
I turn on the sink, splashing some cold water on my face and neck to calm myself down before I spiral into a panic attack. After a few calming breaths, I head back to the kitchen to grab a water from the fridge.
"Alright," Lyla drawls, strolling back into the living room like she didn't just completely ruin my life. She sticks her spoon back into her ice cream and flops onto the couch, watching me with barely-contained amusement. "That was some serious 'about-to-kiss-my-best-friend' energy happening out there."
I groan, covering my face with my hands as I close the fridge and start pacing, my bare feet sinking into the carpet with each step. My nerves are still on fire, every part of me feeling too exposed, too raw.
"Lyla," I warn, voice tight.
"What?" she says, feigning innocence as she shoves another bite of ice cream into her mouth. "I'm just stating the obvious. You and Jax were this close—" she holds up two fingers, barely an inch apart—"to making out on our doorstep, and if I hadn't walked in, I'm pretty sure you'd still be out there, tangled up in that man like a damn pretzel."
"It wasn't—" I stop, dragging a hand through my hair before shaking my head. "I don't know what it was, okay? It just happened."
Lyla snorts. "Oh, babe. That did not just happen. That sexual tension has been brewing for well over a decade."
I exhale sharply, spinning on my heel to face her. "Lyla, I can't do this with him."
Her smirk fades slightly, but she leans back, tipping her head. "And why is that exactly?"
I scoff, throwing my arms out. "Because he's Jaxon! He's my best friend. He's the only thing in my life that has never let me down, never left me, never—" My voice catches, my throat tightening. I swallow hard, forcing myself to keep going. "If I screw this up, if I hurt him, I lose him forever. I can't risk that."
The truth is, it's not just him I'm afraid of losing. It's the safetyhe represents, the certainty. He’s one stable thing in my life that's remained constant while everything else crumbled around me. If we cross that line and it doesn't work out, I don't just lose a relationship—I lose my anchor, my foundation.
Lyla watches me carefully, the playfulness from earlier fading into something softer. "Maddy…"
I shake my head, pacing again, my thoughts spiraling.
"I know myself," I say, voice quieter now, almost desperate. "My presence is like a curse in and of itself. Everything, everyone I love, goes away. My mom, my dad, every relationship I've ever tried to build." The weight of the memories presses down on me, suffocating. "And if I lose him—if I ever did something to make him walk out of my life for good—I don't know how I'd survive that."
Lyla sighs, setting her ice cream down on the coffee table before standing. "Okay, but let me just throw something out there—what if by not doing anything, you lose him anyway?"
