Page 38

38

JAXON

I push through the crowd, dodging bodies, barely registering the music or the laughter still echoing through the house.

I don’t care about any of it.

All I care about is her.

Madison is moving fast, practically weaving through the front yard, and I swear, I’ve never had to work this hard to catch someone in my life.

Right as she reaches the sidewalk, I grab her wrist, my fingers wrapping gently but firmly around her skin.

"Mads, wait?—"

She whirls around so fast, I nearly stumble back from the sheer force.

Her eyes are fire, blazing with confusion and anger, her chest rising and falling like she can’t catch her breath.

"Is that what this is to you? Just temporary until the draft? Are there even other teams outside of the East Coast that are interested?"

My stomach drops.

Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I know this wasn’t how she was supposed to find out.

Her chest is rising and falling too fast. I can see it happening: her breathing shifting, her hands curling into fists at her sides, her whole body tight, like she’s trying to hold herself together.

Like she’s bracing for impact.

I step closer, keeping my voice calm.

“Mads, it’s not that simple?—”

“Bullshit,” she snaps, her eyes flashing as she shoves at my chest, putting space between us.

“Don’t lie to me. This is exactly what I told Lyla would happen. I’d let myself fall for you, then you’d leave, just like everyone else has.”

My jaw tightens, my heart pounding against my ribs.

“No, Mads. I don’t want to leave you at all. That’s the problem. You think I wanted to tell you like this?”

She lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head.

“Tell me like what, Jaxon? What the hell were you waiting for?”

I rake a hand through my hair, frustrated, feeling this whole thing slipping away.

"I was waiting for the right time-"

"Well, congratulations." She throws her arms out, her entire body humming with anger.

"The right time sure as hell isn't now."

I exhale through my nose, forcing myself to stay calm, trying not to match her energy. If I do, we’re not getting anywhere. She has every right to be pissed at me for not telling her.

“Mads,” I start again, softer this time, “just—just let me explain?—”

"Explain what, Jax?" She takes a step back, her hands shaking, her eyes guarded in a way I haven’t seen in months.

I hate it. I hate that look, hate even more that I put it there.

Her voice cracks slightly when she asks, "Why did you even transfer here three years later?"

I inhale sharply, my throat tight. I give her the truth. "Because you called me."

Madison blinks, her whole body going still. “What?”

I reach into my pocket, gripping my phone like it’s a damn lifeline. “You called me, Mads. Last April, you left me a message.”

She laughs—short and disbelieving. "No, I didn’t."

"Yeah," I murmur, "you did. "

She shakes her head, her whole face twisting like I just told her the sky isn’t blue. “I don’t remember that. You’re making this up.”

She turns, her whole body wound tight, like she’s running before she even takes a step.

Before she can get far, I press play. The second her voice comes through the speaker, she freezes. The recording is staticky, slurred at first, but then?—

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

Her breath hitches, but I don’t stop it. She needs to hear this.

"I miss you. I miss you so much, I don’t know what to do with it. It just…hurts, Jax."

Her whole body locks, her arms wrapped around herself, like she’s shielding from something.

The voicemail keeps playing.

"I overheard you that night, you know? When you were talking to your mom about finally trying to be more than my friend. About being in love with me. I freaked out, and I ran, and I ruined everything."

She sucks in a breath, her eyes squeezed shut now, like she can will this away.

But she can’t. I heard her the morning after she called me when I listened to her message, and I felt every damn word.

"It would’ve been different, Jax. If I had just stayed—if I hadn’t freaked out, if I had just ? —"

She pauses before continuing.

"I just miss you. I need you, but you’re so far away." She sniffles, a muffled noise making the last words hard to hear. “I hope you’re doing okay. I’ve been watching your games and all that. You’re amazing. You’ve always deserved someone better than me, and I hope you find her. Bye, Jax.”

The voicemail ends.

When Madison finally opens her eyes to look at me again…I don’t see anger anymore.

I see fear.

Not of me, but of herself .

And the walls I spent the last few months tearing down? I watch them slam back up in real time.

"You should have told me." Her voice shakes, but her anger keeps it steady, keeps it sharp.

I step forward, desperate to fix this, to explain, but the way she stiffens makes my chest ache. "Mads, I wanted to?—"

"No, Jax." She shakes her head, eyes flashing. "You didn’t. You knew this entire time, and you never said a word."

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. I didn’t mean for this to blow up like this. "I didn’t think it mattered."

That makes her laugh, short and hollow. "Oh, it mattered."

I shake my head, stepping closer. "Mads, come on?—"

She steps back, and it wrecks me.

I exhale sharply, my heart pounding. "I transferred here for you , to have a chance with you. A real chance.”

Her arms tighten around herself, her body still so tense. "Then why didn’t you just say that?"

“I did.” I rake a hand down my face, frustrated with myself, with this whole fucking situation. "I didn’t think it was some big announcement I needed to make. It was you, Mads. It was always going to be you. At least, I hoped it would be."

Her throat bobs, her lips parting like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

"I wasn’t trying to lie to you," I murmur, but it sounds weak, even to my own ears.

She just shakes her head again, like she’s done, like she’s over it.

I feel the ground shift beneath me, feel the moment slipping through my fingers, feel her slipping away.

And fuck, I can’t let that happen. I don’t know what else to do except beg.

"Mads, please. Don’t run from this, from me."

She shakes her head again, like she can’t process it, like she doesn’t know what to do with this information now that she has it.

I panic .

I know her. I know how she runs when things get too big, too real, too much.

I erase the distance between us, my hands cradling her face, my thumbs brushing against her cheeks, my chest tightening when I realize she’s trembling.

Her lips part, but she still doesn’t say anything.

I swallow hard, my vision blurring, and I realize too late that there are tears sliding down my own cheeks.

"Please, baby." My voice cracks, my forehead pressing against hers, my hands tightening just slightly, desperate to keep her here. "Don’t do this."

She closes her eyes, her breath shaky, and I can see her fighting it—fighting us, fighting herself. When she finally opens them?—

I know I’ve already lost. I can see it—feel it—happening right in front of me.

Her lips part like she wants to say something but can’t find the words. Her breathing is still uneven, her eyes too wide, her pulse racing against my fingertips as I cradle her face.

I memorize everything: the way her lashes tremble, the small crease between her brows, the flush of her skin under the streetlight, the way her hazel eyes flicker with so many emotions, I can’t decipher them all.

She licks her lips, inhales sharply— then, softly, barely above a whisper—"I need space."

The words slam into my chest like a hit I didn’t see coming, knocking the air straight out of my lungs. I swallow hard, my hands tightening on her cheeks, like I can somehow hold her here, like I can keep her with me.

But I can’t.

So, instead, I force myself to nod, knowing I have to let her go.

Maybe it’s selfish, so damn selfish, but before I do, I pull her in. I wrap my arms around her fully, pressing her to me, memorizing the way her body fits against mine in case this is the last time.

The last time I get to hold her like this .

The last time I get to breathe her in, my nose buried in her hair, her heartbeat pounding against mine.

She tenses for a second—just a second—before she exhales, her body softening into mine.

And I take it. I let myself have this one last thing.

Then, with every ounce of restraint I have, I tilt her chin up and press my lips gently against her forehead. She trembles, a sob working itself from her throat. Then, she’s gone.

I don’t watch her leave.

I can’t.

If I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to let her walk away.

The music blasts the second I step back through the door, but it feels like background noise, muffled and distant compared to the absolute wreckage in my chest.

I don’t even know how I find Carter. I just do, like my body knows where to go.

He turns at the sight of me, his brows furrowing instantly. "Damn, man. What happened?"

I exhale, shaking my head, my voice rough when I answer. "She’s gone."

Carter curses under his breath, standing straighter, but before he can say anything, I hear a sharp intake of breath.

Lyla.

She’s already moving before I can get a word out, shoving past me, heading straight for the door.

"Lyla—" Carter calls, but she doesn’t stop.

She just shakes her head, muttering, "She shouldn’t be alone right now."

Then, she’s gone too.

I let out a long breath, running a hand down my face before turning back to Carter .

He watches me for a second, his expression unreadable. "You good?"

I don’t answer because I don’t know.

Instead, I push past him, heading straight for the kitchen, ignoring the buzz of conversation around me, the laughter, the people who have no idea my entire fucking world just walked away.

I grab a beer from the counter, cracking it open as Carter watches me, his brows furrowing again.

I don’t drink, haven’t once in my life.

After Madison’s dad crashed his while drunk off his ass, I promised myself I’d never put her in that position again. I never wanted to hurt her, to be in a position where I couldn’t get to her if she needed me, never wanted to risk it.

Right now?

I don’t know what else to do.

So, I tip my head back and take my first sip, letting the bitterness burn my throat.