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JAXON

T he late July sun is brutal, baking the cracked pavement of the stadium lot.

Even with the windows down, the air inside my truck clings to my skin.

I cut the engine just as Jake Mitchell’s familiar voice from College Football Primetime crackles through the speakers.

"Biggest headline going into summer camp? Jaxon Montgomery transferring. A surefire first-round draft pick leaving Michigan State for Pacific Coast University. Chase, help me out—what's this kid thinking?"

I clench my jaw tight, my muscle ticking beneath the skin. I should switch it off. Instead, I sit there, letting it dig under my skin.

" No offense to PCU, but this is a downgrade. It has to be personal. No way this is just about football."

They're right. It isn't about football.

Through the windshield, the stadium looms—all concrete and glass, the PCU logo practically daring me to prove I belong here. New team. New playbook. High expectations.

I grab my bag off the passenger seat and shove the door open. The California heat slams into me, thick and punishing, a far cry from Michigan's cooler summers. Sweat beads across my neck before I even hit the turf .

A few players are already running drills, their cleats biting into the grass, voices carrying across the field. I head toward the open gate, the sharp scent of fresh-cut grass and sweat heavy in the air.

Heads turn.

One guy breaks away from the group, jogging toward me with an easy smirk, quarterback swagger written all over him.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” he says, holding out a hand. “Carter Hayes, QB1.”

I shake it firmly, locking eyes with him. “Jaxon Montgomery.”

“Oh, we know who you are.” He grins. “Coach hasn’t shut up about you since the transfer went through. Man acts like he won the damn lottery.”

Before I can respond, a voice booms across the field. “Montgomery! Glad you finally made it.” Coach Harding strides over, clipboard tucked under one arm. “Hope you’re ready to work, son. We didn’t bring you here to look pretty on the bench.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” I say, earning a few approving nods from the guys around me.

Carter slings an arm over my shoulder like we’ve known each other for years. “Let’s get you settled in and warmed up, man. Been waiting to see what all the hype is about.”

After I drop my bag in the locker room and change into my cleats, we run through routes, and it doesn’t take long to find our rhythm. Carter’s got one hell of an arm, and once I adjust to his timing, the ball lands in my hands like it was meant to be there. The more we connect, the louder the reactions from the team.

“Logan, my man. How you feelin’ about your new competition?” one of the linebackers yells across the field after I snag a deep pass over my shoulder.

Logan Brooks, one of the starting wide receivers, looks anything but happy to see me. He sneers, his green eyes full of hate. “Fuck off, Harrison.”

“I’m just saying. Montgomery’s pretty fucking good,” Beck replies as he wipes the sweat from his face with a towel.

“No kidding,” Carter says, jogging up to me. “You keep running routes like that, and we’re about to light up every defense in this conference.”

Coach blows his whistle, calling us into a huddle. “Good work today, boys, but this is just the beginning. Season starts in a few months, and I expect all of you to put in the work to make this offense unstoppable.” His eyes land on me. “Montgomery, you keep this up, and you’re gonna make a lot of noise this year.”

I nod, chest still heaving from the last sprint. “That’s the plan, Coach.”

As we break from the huddle, Carter nudges my arm. “Gotta admit, man, I wasn’t sure if you’d live up to the hype, but I like what I see so far.”

I smirk—I knew the razzing would come sooner or later, but his words have no effect on me. “Good. ‘Cause I’m just getting started.”

As he fills me in on practice schedules and some of my new teammates, I glance around at the unfamiliar campus. This place is my new home. New team, new opportunities. But none of that is why I’m really here.

My grip tightens on the strap of my bag. She doesn’t even know I transferred. Not yet, at least.

But she will soon.

Madison’s voice fills my truck, soft and slurred from whatever she’d been drinking. It wasn’t surprising, seeing as it was the ninth anniversary of her mom’s passing.

"I miss you, Jax."

I close my eyes, letting the words hit me like they always do. It’s been months, and I’ve listened to this voicemail more times than I can count, but it still wrecks me, still makes my chest tighten like my ribs are caving in.

"I don’t even know why I’m calling, but…I just… God, I hate not talking to you. "

My grip tightens on the steering wheel. If only she knew what this did to me. What it still does to me.

A deep breath in. A slow exhale out.

I don’t know if she even remembers leaving this message, but it doesn’t matter. It was enough. Enough to make me uproot my entire life, entering the transfer portal with seconds to spare. Enough to bring me here.

I rub a hand over my jaw and glance out the windshield at the campus in front of me. This is it. No turning back now.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I push the door open and step out, rolling my shoulders to shake off the weight pressing down on me. One thing I will definitely miss about Michigan is the change of the seasons, with September bringing a mix of chilly days while still feeling a bit like summer. Here at PCU, fall is just a cooler version of the hot summers I’ve grown up with.

Heads turn as I pass. Some people recognize me, and some just give me a once-over, curiosity flashing in their eyes. It’s nothing new. Transferring as a top-ranked wide receiver brings attention, but I don’t care about any of that.

I’m here for one reason.

Madison Blake.

My best friend growing up, my first crush, and the girl I've adored since handing her my Valentine in first grade. Her laughter was infectious, and her smile could easily bring me to my knees.

As I climb up the steps to the mathematics building, my phone starts buzzing in the pocket of my shorts. I adjust my bag so I can grab it, my mom’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hey, Mom.” I can’t help the smile tugging on my lips. My mom has always been a little over the top, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. She just loves to love.

“Hey, baby! How’s your first day going?”

“I’m headed to my first class now, but so far, so good. Found a decent parking spot at least,” I say with a chuckle.

“I keep forgetting the time difference when I go on these trips. I’ll have to start setting reminders now that you’re closer to home.” I can hear her shuffling papers in the background.

“Still working on that one case?” My mom is one of the top family law attorneys in the state of California and does everything in her power to reunite families while also ensuring the child's safety comes first.

“Yeah, your father isn’t loving that I brought it with me on vacation, but he’ll get over it.” Dad grumbles in the background, saying something about lunch reservations. “I want to hear all about your first week this weekend when we get home. Maybe you can get Madison to come too? It’s been ages since we’ve seen that girl!”

That’s one thing about Mom: she absolutely adores Madison, almost like a daughter. The comment makes me a little nervous, though—Mads still doesn’t even know I’ve transferred to Pacific Coast University, the school she decided to ditch our college plans for after I was already settled across the country.

“I’ll let you know, Mom. I gotta go, though. Don’t want to be late on the first day.”

Opening the main doors of the brick mathematics building, I look for the room numbers to figure out which way I need to go.

“Alright, alright. Love you, Jaxon.”

“Love you too. Bye.” Ending the call, I make sure my phone’s on silent before putting it back into my pocket. I definitely don’t need a repeat of the first day of my senior year of high school.

The teacher had just gone on a long tirade about how cell phones were ruining our generation, and, wouldn’t you know it, my phone started ringing from my bag. Mrs. Cross already hated my guts, so when her eyes flashed to me, I definitely started sweating.

But once again, Mads saved the day; she reached down and silenced my phone through the side pocket before taking it out and turning it off fully. She took the blame, and all I had to do was make sure she got her fix of a king-sized Twix bar and a large sweet tea from the gas station on the way home. Pretty good trade off, if you ask me .

Finding the right room, I grab a seat towards the back of the class and pull out my notebook. Being a lefty, I like sitting along the outside, and sitting in the back means that, hopefully, I get called on less. It also makes for an easy escape once the class is over.

I run my hand down my face, trying to mentally prepare for later, when I swing by Madison’s place to deliver the news of my presence. I’ll ease into it, though.

I know her. If I just show up unannounced, she’ll probably slam the door in my face, and I’d really like to keep my head intact for at least the first week.

So, I’ll do what any smart man would do—I’ll come bearing gifts.

Coffee, maybe. Or those overpriced, insanely sweet cookies she used to beg me to buy her from the local bakery closer to home.

As the rest of the class shuffles in, I can’t help but wonder what Madison’s class schedule looks like. Is she in the same building as me right now? She isn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination.

“Good morning, everyone. I hope you’re ready to dive right in. Seeing as this is the final or only math class most of you have to take, you should know what to expect.” The professor starts writing a few things on the board before handing a stack of papers to the front row, asking them to take one and pass it back.

Just as I get my copy of the syllabus, I hear the door open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I slept through my alarm and–” I know that voice.

My eyes swing to the doorway. Anything the professor says barely registers, her words a blur, background noise to the only thing that matters.

Because standing in the doorway is her .

Madison.

She’s exactly the same and somehow completely different at the same time. Dark, wavy hair is twisted into a bun, like she threw it up without a second thought. An oversized sweatshirt swallows her frame, hiding what I hope are tiny shorts underneath. Long, tan legs I know by heart end in the same worn-out sneakers she’s probably had for years.

She’s effortless. Stunning. Mine—except, not really. She’s never really been mine .

I just wished she had been.

My grip tightens around my pen, my jaw clenching as something thick and sharp knots in my chest. I used to be the one she’d walk up to first, the one who got her sleepy good morning grumbles and her late-night rants about anything and everything. Now, I don’t even know if she’ll look my way.

But God, do I wish she would.

Her head swivels my direction, her face turning completely pale. Word about my transfer has been all over the news throughout the summer, but it seems she’s still avoiding social media.

Madison stares at me, unblinking. I’d hoped her hatred of surprises had changed over the last three years, but it seems I was wrong.

And judging by the way she looks at me now, like I’ve just flipped her entire universe upside down—I was dead wrong.