Jake pulled back to look into my eyes, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone. "Evan."
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared I'm going to mess this up."
I studied his face in the dim light—his hair falling across his forehead and a flush spreading across his cheeks.
"Then we'll mess it up together," I said.
Jake responded with a small, vulnerable smile. "Fuck, that's... that might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Your standards are tragically low."
"Lucky for you."
Jake's fingers were still tangled in my hair, and his pulse throbbed against my thumb resting on his throat—fast and unsteady, matching my own.
"I think it's time," he murmured.
"Time for what?"
Instead of answering, Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen's blue glow threw harsh shadowsacross his face as he scrolled through his contacts. He turned it just enough so I could see what he was doing.
He found Juno Park's name.
"Jake—"
"I know." His thumb hovered over the screen. "But I'm tired of letting everyone else write my story."
I watched him type, surprised by how steady his hands were. The message was simple, direct, and nothing like the performative Jake most people knew:
Jake:I'm ready to talk. On the record. With Nik Vanko. If you still want to.
"You don't have to do this," I said quietly.
"Yeah, I do. The team deserves better than... than whatever I've been. And you deserve better."
You deserve better.The words hit me sideways, unexpected and devastating. Jake thought I was worth him making efforts to improve.
He hit send.
The phone buzzed almost immediately—the response lit up the screen:
Juno:Always. Tomorrow at 3? Common Thread?
Jake:See you there.
He set the phone face-down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch cushions, suddenly looking exhausted. "Feels like jumping without a net."
He was terrified, I realized, not of the interview, but of what came after. Of whether taking control of his narrative would change anything, or he'd just be giving people new material to twist.
I spoke softly. "You'll fall into something better."
"Is that what this is? Something better?"
I reached for his hand, interlacing our fingers and squeezing. "I don't know what this is yet, but I want to find out."
Jake smiled, real without performing. "Me, too."
