Page 50

50

MADISON

I stare at the ceiling, watching the early morning light filter in through my curtains.

The space beside me feels too empty, too cold—a reminder that Jaxon is gone.

Three days.

Three days of Pro Day preparations, of NFL scouts and drills, of the future he's worked his entire life for.

I should be happy for him. I am happy for him. But that doesn’t stop the gnawing worry in my chest, doesn’t quiet the fear that everything is about to change. That just when I’ve finally figured out how to stay, Jaxon will be drafted to some team across the country—leaving me behind.

My phone buzzes with an email, breaking the spiral of my thoughts. I roll over with a sigh, pushing myself out of bed, already counting the hours until Jaxon calls tonight.

The smell of fresh coffee tells me Lyla is up. I find her at the dining table, surrounded by textbooks and papers, red curls piled on top of her head, oversized glasses perched on her nose.

“Morning,” I mumble, heading straight for the coffee pot.

“Fresh pot,” she says without looking up. “Made it twenty minutes ago. ”

I pour myself a cup, eyeing the mess of stuff in front of her. “When did you go to bed last night?”

She shrugs. “Bold of you to assume I did.”

I step closer, scanning the documents spread across the table. Sports management? Graduate program applications?

“Since when are you applying to grad school?”

Lyla finally pushes her glasses into her hair, rubbing her temples. “Since always?” Her voice is sharp, guarded. “You’ve missed a lot the last few months, Madison.”

It stings, but she isn’t wrong. I’ve been so caught up in my own life, in Jaxon, in my own damn fears, I haven’t stopped to see what’s going on with my best friend.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, sinking into the chair across from her. “I’ve been a shit friend.”

Lyla softens. “Not a shit friend, just…preoccupied.” She smirks. “Which, considering how long it took you to get your head out of your ass about Jaxon, is semi forgivable.”

I snort, relieved by her teasing. “Tell me about the school.”

“They have one of the top sports management programs, plus partnerships with three pro teams for internships.” She hesitates. “And it’s close enough that I could live at home if I needed to save money but far enough that I don’t have to.”

Her voice dips on the last part, and I know exactly what she means.

“Does your dad know?”

Lyla’s jaw tightens. “He knows. He’s…having feelings about it.”

“Good feelings or bad feelings?”

She lets out a dry laugh. “Controlling feelings. He wants me at his alma mater or taking the cushy internship he set up with his old teammate.”

I frown. “And that’s not what you want.”

“No.” Lyla’s voice is firm. “I want to do this on my own. No favors, no special treatment, just me proving I’m good enough. ”

A knock at the door cuts off my response. When I pull it open, my stomach drops.

Coach Harding, Lyla’s dad. He’s just as intimidating in jeans and a polo as he is on the sidelines.

“Madison.” He nods my way.

“Uh—Coach,” I manage, suddenly hyper aware I’m still in my pajamas—specifically, one of Jaxon’s old PCU shirts that barely hits mid-thigh.

I step aside, letting him in, and he hands Lyla a folder and a paper bag. “Letter of recommendation. And breakfast. Maple donuts.”

Lyla straightens, stiff but polite. “Dad, I told you I’d pick it up later.”

“I was in the area.” He nods toward the folder. “Read your personal statement. It’s good.”

“But?” Lyla challenges.

Coach sighs. “But I still think you should consider UTA. Their alumni network?—”

“I don’t want an alumni network,” Lyla snaps. “I want to do this my way.”

Coach’s voice softens, a rare thing for him. “Lyla, this industry is about who you know.”

“Maybe for some people, but I’ve been busting my ass in the athletic department for three years, maintaining a 3.9 GPA. I deserve this.”

A flicker of pride crosses his face before he schools his expression. “Just keep your options open.” Lyla huffs but doesn’t argue, so Coach turns to me, his expression shifting. “Montgomery’s doing well at Pro Day. Scouts are impressed.”

My heart stumbles. “That’s…good.”

Coach nods. “He’s worked hard. He deserves it.” He turns back to Lyla. “Dinner Sunday? We can make that pasta you like.”

Lyla exhales. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

After he leaves, she sinks into her chair with a groan .

I arch a brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “He means well. He just doesn’t get why I don’t want to use his name to get ahead.”

“Your dad is…intense.”

Lyla snorts. “Understatement of the century.” She hesitates. “Did you know I dated Beck Harrison for three months sophomore year? Dad had no clue.”

I nearly spit out my coffee. “Beck? Linebacker Beck?”

“The very same.” She smirks. “We kept it quiet because Dad would’ve lost his mind. His daughter dating one of his players? Yeah, no.”

My head spins. “Does Carter know?”

Something unreadable flickers across her face. “Carter knows everything.” There’s a weight behind her words, but before I can press, she changes the subject. “Anyway, I’ve got applications to finish. Maple donut?”

I accept the pastry, letting the conversation shift.

For the next few hours, we work, and for the first time in way too long, I feel like I’m finally showing up for my best friend.

By evening, finals have taken over, textbooks and notes scattered across the apartment. We finally cave and order pizza, but as we wait, Lyla casually drops the question I’ve been avoiding.

“So…have you talked to Jaxon today?”

“Not yet,” I admit. “He said he’d call tonight, but…”

Lyla leans back, arms crossed. “But you’re spiraling about the draft.”

I sigh. “That obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows you.” Her voice is gentle. “Look, I get it. He could end up anywhere. But if there’s one thing I know about Jaxon Montgomery, it’s that he’s all in on you, always has been. ”

“I know that.” I pick at my sleeve. “But what if it’s not enough? What if?—”

“Madison.” Lyla levels me with a look. “That boy transferred schools for you. He came back even when you pushed him away. You really think a few hundred miles is gonna change that?”

I chew on my lip.

“Besides,” she adds, tilting her head. “You’re so worried about him leaving, but you haven’t even considered the alternative.”

I frown. “Which is?”

Lyla smirks. “Maybe you could go with him.”

The thought slams into me like a physical force. I haven’t considered that. I’ve spent so much time assuming I’d be left behind, it never occurred to me that maybe…I don’t have to be.

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes.

Jaxon. FaceTime.

I inhale sharply before accepting. His face fills the screen, and the second his warm brown eyes meet mine, I forget how to breathe.

“There’s my girl.” His voice is rough from exhaustion, but his signature smirk tugs at his lips, making my stomach flip.

Lyla, still sprawled across the couch, peeks over my shoulder and waves. "Hey, superstar! How’s Pro Day treating you?"

Jaxon chuckles, rubbing a hand over his face. "Good. Long. Pretty sure I talked to every scout in the country today."

"And impressed them all, I’m sure," Lyla says as she stands. "I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

"That really doesn’t narrow it down," Jaxon quips with a smirk.

Lyla just winks at him before disappearing into her room.

I roll my eyes and shift on the couch, bringing the phone closer. Jaxon watches me through the screen, his smirk growing as he settles back against a hotel pillow, his arms folded behind his head. His T-shirt rides up just enough to show a sliver of tanned skin, and damn him, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

"Well, well," he drawls, voice dropping to that low, cocky tone that always gets me. "Look at you, all rumpled and cute. Did you even brush your hair today?"

I glare. "I hate you."

"Aw, you miss me," he teases.

I scoff. "I miss peace and quiet, which is impossible when you're around."

"Uh-huh." He tilts his head. "Funny, because Coach Harding mentioned you were asking about me."

Heat creeps up my neck. "He mentioned you first!"

Jaxon grins, full of cocky satisfaction. "I told him to check on you, made him promise to make sure you weren’t crying yourself to sleep without me."

I groan. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you answered my call."

"Temporary insanity."

Jaxon leans in closer, his smirk softening slightly. "You do miss me, though, don’t you, Blake?"

I press my lips together, refusing to answer.

He grins wider. "Bet I could get you to admit it."

"I bet you couldn’t."

"Is that a challenge?"

I narrow my eyes. "No. That’s me hanging up."

"But then you wouldn’t get to hear about how I made three scouts drop their clipboards today." He stretches lazily, his biceps flexing just enough to be obnoxious.

"Were they blinded by your modesty?"

He barks out a laugh. "No, but one of them said, and I quote, ‘That kid’s got star potential.’"

I hum. "Yeah, yeah. Some of us have known that for a while."

His smirk falters slightly, just for a second, something soft flashing in his eyes before he recovers. "Damn right you have."

I roll my eyes, but my stomach clenches. This man is going to ruin me. "Okay, hotshot," I murmur. "You should get some sleep before your ego gets any bigger."

"Not possible," he says easily. Then, softer, "Miss you, Mads. "

I hesitate for half a second before murmuring, "Miss you too."

His smirk returns. "Knew it."

"Shut up."

"Sweet dreams, baby," he murmurs, voice warm and teasing. "Try not to think about me too much."

His laugh is the last thing I hear before the call ends, leaving me staring at my phone, wondering how I ever thought I could live without him.