Page 5

5

MADISON

I needed some space from Jaxon, and maybe that’s the reason I told Carter we should come upstairs.

I have zero intention of sleeping with him.

I just needed out, fast.

Carter closes the door behind us, muting the wild noise of the night.

His room is exactly what you'd expect from a college guy: sports posters plastered across the walls, a desk cluttered with textbooks and empty energy drink cans, and clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor. The air smells faintly of cologne and stale pizza.

He turns to me, arms crossed, his eyes searching mine. He drops onto the bed, his expression softening as he pats the space beside him. "What the hell happened between you and Jaxon?"

I remain standing, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "Nothing happened. I told you, we grew up together."

"Bullshit." Carter's voice isn't angry, just matter-of-fact. "I've never seen you react to anyone like that. And the way he looked at you... That wasn't just some old friend from school."

I exhale sharply, as if the answer is hidden in the threadbare carpet beneath me. Where do I begin?

"It's a long story," I whisper, finally sinking down beside him.

"Then it looks like we've got nothing but time. Start spilling," Carter prompts gently, making himself comfortable against his pillows.

So, I do, partly because I know he’s drunk, partly because I need to let it out.

I tell him about my mom—how cancer stole her away piece by painful piece, leaving a void filled by a father lost in a haze of whiskey and rage. I recount the nights I'd sneak out to Jaxon's place, climbing through his window to escape the haunting echoes of chaos at home. He was always there, blanket in hand, as if he'd known I needed him to shield me.

"I was eight when my mom got sick," I say, my voice distant even to my own ears.

"By twelve, she was gone. My dad... He couldn't handle it. Started drinking, staying out late. Some nights, he wouldn't come home at all."

"That's rough," he says, his face drawing into a frown.

"Jaxon lived down the street. His mom practically raised me after mine died.” The memory brings a sad smile to my face.

I remember the rooftop nights, where we sat side by side, staring out at the ocean, making wishes far too grand for my reality. Jaxon always promised he'd make my wishes come true, a vow that once lit up my childhood but now terrifies me—because it reminds me of how much he would give up just to make me happy.

"I remember hiding in his closet during the worst storms," I continue, unable to stop the flood of memories now. "Not just weather storms—the ones at home, when my dad would come back drunk, breaking things, screaming at ghosts.

In those moments, Jaxon was the one who wrapped me in silly jokes to break the tension and let me breathe again.

"

"He was my best friend for fifteen years," I continue, voice trembling. "Since we were toddlers, basically.

We were inseparable.

" My throat burns with unshed tears.

"Then, what?

You just went your separate ways, and that was it?

" Carter's question is soft, laced with genuine curiosity even as his eyes grow heavy with alcohol .

I swallow hard, the truth stinging like a splinter. "I was supposed to go to Michigan State with Jax." The confession is heavier than I expected. "We had it all planned out since freshman year of high school. Same dorm, same schedule if we could manage it.”

I pick at a loose thread on Carter's comforter. "But I didn’t get in, and instead of telling him the truth, I just didn’t show up. Took two years at community college instead before coming here last fall."

"Wait, why? Did you tell him you didn’t get in, or…" Carter trails off.

The memory hits me full force—standing in the hallway outside Jaxon's kitchen, a plate of his mom's cookies in my hand as a surprise for our study session. Then, his voice, so clear through the half-open door: "Mom, going to the same school is literally what we’ve planned for. We’ll both get in and it’ll be fine.”

“But what if that doesn’t happen, Jaxon?” his mom says. I know her well enough to know her tone is slightly worried. “I just don’t want you to put your future in jeopardy if for some reason you both don’t get into Michigan State. It’s your dream school with the absolute best program. Whatever is meant to happen between you and Madison will happen, but you have to put yourself first here.”

“I panicked,” I tell Carter, the words bitter on my tongue. "So I made the decision for him. He left the next day for training camp, and I never showed up that fall.”

Carter studies me, his gaze more perceptive than I'd given him credit for. "And now? After all this time, he shows up here?"

"I had no idea he'd be here. I may or may not have ignored every one of his texts and calls, even filtered his name out on my social media, when or if I ever check it." I wrap my arms around myself.

"I think you’re leaving out the part where feelings were obviously involved," Carter says.

It's not a question.

I look up sharply. "I never said?—"

"You didn't have to." Carter leans back against his headboard, the effects of alcohol making his movements loose. "It's written all over your face."

I want to deny it, but the words stick in my throat. Was it that obvious? That the feelings I'd been running from for years were still there, simmering just beneath the surface?

"It doesn't matter," I finally say. "Too much time has passed, too many things left unsaid."

"You know," Carter says, his words starting to slur, "for someone so smart, you're kind of an idiot."

I laugh despite myself.

"Gee, thanks."

"No, seriously." He sits up, poking my shoulder for emphasis.

"You're running from the one person who actually gets you. The one who was there and stayed through all your shit. Because, what? You're afraid he might care too much?"

Put that way, it does sound ridiculous, but it's not that simple. It never is.

"I can't be responsible for someone else missing out on the future they deserve, especially him," I insist. "I won't be that person."

"Did you ever think maybe you robbed him of the future he wanted by leaving?" Carter asks, his voice softening. "That maybe he knew the risks but thought they were worth it anyway?"

The question hits me like a physical blow. Had I been so wrapped up in my own fear that I'd missed what was right in front of me?

Maybe Jaxon hadn't seen me as a burden but as a choice he wanted to make?

I glance over, half-expecting Carter's eyes to be on me with understanding, but his head is lolling against his wrist, soft snores betraying his inebriated state.

Well, at least he tried.

Shaking my head, I pull the blanket from the foot of the bed and drape it over him.

Quietly, I sneak out of Carter’s bedroom before heading back to the party.

My eyes instinctually scan the room, looking for the boy with brown hair and matching eyes, but I don’t see him.

I've lost count of how many times I've wondered what life would look like if I hadn't overheard Jaxon talking to his mom that night. What if I hadn't let fear scare me into carving a giant divide between us?

What if I hadn't pushed away from the one person who'd been there for me through every shattering moment of my childhood?

But now, seeing him again, I feel every single shard of those feelings.

It's a reminder that no matter how much I try to bury it, Jaxon still makes me feel things no one else ever has. Just seeing him today has me all shook up like a bottle of soda, just waiting to explode.

For the last three years, I convinced myself he was better off without me, that the feelings I had for my best friend had faded into nothing. I've hooked up with other guys, gone through the motions of moving forward, so why does seeing Jaxon now make it feel like these feelings never left?

Like these past three years have been nothing but a placeholder, a poor substitute for what I really wanted but was too afraid to reach for?

I realize with startling clarity that I've been lying to myself, running from the truth that's been chasing me for years.

Jaxon’s feelings weren’t one sided.