Page 54

Madison

T he buzz of my alarm cuts through my dream, dragging me back to consciousness.

I groan, blindly reaching for my phone to silence it before I blink at the time glowing on the screen.

6:30 AM.

I used to hate mornings, used to fight them like they were a personal attack, clinging to sleep like it was the only place I felt safe.

But that was before.

Now, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, stretching my arms overhead as the early morning sunlight filters through the blinds.

The hardwood floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I pad toward the bathroom, grabbing one of Jaxon's hoodies from the back of a chair on my way.

It's been six weeks since that morning on the beach.

Six weeks of learning what it means to choose something—someone—every single day.

Six weeks of fighting my instinct to run when things feel too good, too right.

Six weeks of Jaxon loving me through all of it .

I can hear him already moving around in the kitchen downstairs, the soft clatter of pans and the rich aroma of coffee drifting up the stairs.

It's our routine now, on the mornings I stay over. He gets up first and starts breakfast, and I join him once I've had time to fully wake up.

It's simple. Easy, almost.

Except nothing about today is simple.

I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I brush my teeth. My hair is a disaster, my eyes still puffy with sleep, but there's something different in my face now.

Something steadier. More certain.

Dr. Martha says it's progress, that learning to sit in my own skin without constantly looking for an exit or way to hide is growth.

I think maybe she's right.

After splashing water on my face and pulling my hair into a messy bun, I take a deep breath and head downstairs.

The closer I get to the kitchen, the stronger my heart pounds against my ribs, the familiar tightness creeping into my chest.

Today is draft day.

Today, everything changes.

Jaxon doesn't look up when I enter the kitchen, his attention focused on the pancakes he's flipping.

He's shirtless, basketball shorts low on his hips, muscles shifting beneath tanned skin as he moves around the kitchen with practiced ease.

My heart aches at the sight.

I want to memorize this moment, this version of us, in this kitchen, on this perfectly ordinary morning before our lives split wide open.

"You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna help?" Jaxon glances over his shoulder, a slow smirk spreading across his face when he catches me staring.

I roll my eyes, but there's no heat behind it.

"Just admiring the view."

He chuckles, turning back to the stove.

"Coffee's ready. "

I move to the counter, pouring myself a cup and taking a long sip. The warmth spreads through my chest, grounding me as I watch him work. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep." He flips another pancake onto the growing stack beside him. "Too wired."

I study the line of his shoulders, the tension there that he's trying so hard to hide. Jaxon Montgomery—always so steady, so certain. He’s always the strong one, but I can see the nervous energy crackling beneath his calm surface.

"Nervous?" I ask quietly.

He exhales, pausing for a moment before turning to face me. His expression is open, honest. "Yeah. A little."

I set my mug down and move to him, sliding my arms around his waist, my cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat is strong beneath my ear, steady despite everything.

"It'll be good," I murmur. "No matter what happens, it'll be good."

His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as he rests his chin on the top of my head. "I know."

We stand like that for a long moment, just breathing each other in. When I finally pull back, I can see the question in his eyes—the one he's been careful not to ask these past few weeks.

I've been planning this moment, rehearsing the words, but now that I'm here, staring up at the boy who spent years choosing me even when I wouldn't choose him back, everything I practiced feels inadequate.

So, I just say it.

"I'm coming with you." My voice is soft but sure. "Wherever you go, I want to be there."

Jaxon goes still, his eyes searching mine like he's not sure he heard me correctly. "Madison?—"

"I have three interviews set up next week," I continue, my fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "Two music therapy programs and an assistant coordinator position at a community arts center, all of them in cities with major teams. I've talked to Career Services, and they're helping me network in potential draft cities. I might have to finish my last few credits remotely, or even come back for a semester, but Dr. Harrison said she'd work with me on independent study options."

His kiss cuts off my rambling, his hands cupping my face as he pulls me into him. It's not desperate or demanding—it's sure, steady, full of promise.

When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. "You're sure about this?"

I nod, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, or that I won't freak out sometimes, but I'm done running from the good things in my life, Jax." I take a deep breath, my hands sliding up to rest against his chest. "I want to build a life with you, wherever that takes us."

The smile that breaks across his face is blinding, like sunlight bursting through clouds. He lifts me off my feet, spinning me around the kitchen as I laugh, my arms locked around his neck.

"God, I love you," he murmurs into my hair as he sets me back on my feet. "You know that, right?"

I smile, my chest so full, I can barely breathe. "I'm starting to get the idea."

Later, as we sit at the kitchen table eating pancakes, the normality of it settles over me like a warm blanket. This is what love looks like, I realize. Not grand gestures or perfect moments, but this—choosing each other over breakfast, talking about the future, being brave enough to step into the unknown together.

"So," Jaxon says, reaching for my hand across the table, "we're really doing this."

I lace my fingers through his, exhaling slowly. "We're really doing this."

The fear is still there—the doubt, the what-ifs, the worry I'm not built for something this good. But for the first time in my life, I'm not letting it drive me. I'm feeling it, acknowledging it, but I’m moving forward anyway.

Because some things are worth the risk .

And Jaxon Montgomery?

He's worth everything.

Jaxon

The hotel room buzzes with nervous energy. My family moves around the space, tidying things that don't need tidying, making phone calls, checking the time. My dad paces near the window, his hands in his pockets, while my mom fusses with my tie for the third time in ten minutes.

"Mom," I say, gently taking her hands. "It's fine."

She sighs, patting my chest. "I know, I know. I just want everything to be perfect."

I glance across the room to where Madison sits on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed at the ankles, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. She's been quiet all morning, watching the chaos unfold around her with those observant eyes that never miss a thing.

She catches me staring and gives me a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

I excuse myself from my mother's fussing and cross the room, dropping onto the bed beside my girl. "Hey."

"Hey," she murmurs back, her shoulder bumping against mine.

"You good?"

She exhales slowly, her gaze fixed on her hands in her lap. "Yeah. Just...a lot of people."

I nod, understanding exactly what she means. My extended family arrived yesterday—aunts, uncles, cousins, all eager to be part of the big day. They've been nothing but welcoming to Madison, but I know how overwhelming it can be for her, trying to navigate so many new faces, so many expectations.

"We can bail," I offer, only half-joking. "Grab a pizza, watch the draft from our hotel room."

She laughs softly, shaking her head. "Your agent would kill you. "

"True, but it might be worth it."

Madison's smile softens as she leans into me slightly. "I'm okay. Really."

I study her face, looking for any sign she's putting on a brave front, but there's a steadiness in her expression that wasn't there even a few months ago. I'm about to say something else when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, glancing at the screen.

A text from Carter.

Carter

Yo. Just landed. Heading to the hotel. Tell Blake she better be ready to handle your ass when you turn into a diva NFL player.

I snort, showing Madison the message. She rolls her eyes, but there's affection in it.

"He's going to be insufferable the entire time, isn't he?" she mutters.

"Without a doubt," I agree, tucking my phone away. "But he's here."

She smiles, and this time, it reaches her eyes. "I'm glad."

I bump my knee against hers. "You sure you're up for all this? The ceremony, the press, the whole thing? It's a lot."

Madison takes a deep breath, her gaze steady as she looks up at me. "I didn't spend four years getting a music therapy degree just to bail when things get loud, Montgomery." She reaches for my hand, her fingers lacing through mine. "I can handle it. If you can ride out my panic attacks and daddy issues, I can handle a few cameras."

I laugh, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Fair enough."

"Alright, family photo time!" my mom announces, clapping her hands. "Everyone gather around Jaxon."

Madison starts to slip off the bed, but I catch her hand.

"Where are you going?" I ask, frowning.

She blinks, confused. "It's a family photo. "

Something shifts in my chest, tight and aching. I stand, pulling her with me, my voice low but firm. "Exactly."

For half a second, uncertainty flickers in her eyes. Then, she swallows, nodding once as she lets me guide her toward my family.

I slip my arm around her waist, tucking her against my side as everyone arranges themselves for the photo. My mom beams at us, reaching over to adjust Madison's hair with a gentle hand.

"Perfect," she says, her eyes shining with pride.

The photographer counts down, and just before the shutter clicks, I lean in to press a kiss to the top of Madison's head. She exhales, relaxing into me, and in that moment, everything feels exactly as it should be.

The draft venue is even more chaotic than the hotel. Camera flashes strobe across the room, voices bouncing off the walls as analysts discuss prospects, teams, potential picks. I'm seated at a table with my family, my agent hovering nearby as we wait for things to begin.

Madison sits beside me, her hand in mine beneath the table. She looks stunning in a deep green dress that brings out the gold in her eyes, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. But it's the quiet confidence in her posture, the steady set of her jaw, that catches me off guard.

She's nervous—I can tell by the way her fingers tap against her knee when she thinks I'm not watching—but she's here, fully present, fully in this moment with me. That means more than I could ever put into words.

A flash of movement catches my eye, and I glance up to see Carter making his way toward us, weaving through the crowd with typical Hayes confidence. When Madison spots him, her face lights up, and she's on her feet in an instant, meeting him halfway .

He wraps her in a bear hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. "Well, well, Blake. Look at you, all dressed up and adulting."

She rolls her eyes as he sets her down, but there's a smile playing at her lips. "Surprised you even own a tie, Hayes."

"Please," he scoffs, straightening the knot at his throat. "I'm distinguished as hell."

I stand, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. "Glad you made it, man."

Carter's expression softens, something like pride flashing in his eyes. "Wouldn't miss it." He glances between Madison and me, his smirk returning. "Plus, someone's gotta keep an eye on you two troublemakers."

Madison snorts. "Because you're the responsible one."

"Compared to you? Absolutely."

My agent approaches, clipboard in hand, his expression serious as he leans in to speak. "We're hearing some chatter about Charleston possibly trading up. If they do, they might be looking at you. You good with that?"

I glance at Madison, whose eyebrows lift slightly.

"New Haven is good," I say. "East Coast, strong offensive coach, solid system."

He nods, making a note. "Alright. They're about to start. You ready?"

I take a deep breath, squeezing Madison's hand once before answering. "Yeah. Let's do this."

The first two picks are as expected—both quarterbacks, both to teams desperately needing new leadership. I lean back in my chair, trying to keep my expression neutral even as my heart hammers against my ribs.

Madison leans in, her voice low in my ear. "Breathe, Montgomery. You're looking a little pale."

I exhale a laugh, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "Thought you were the nervous one in this relationship."

She shrugs, a small smile playing at her lips. "I'm expanding my skill set. "

The third pick is announced—a defensive end from O State—and then the fourth. Each selection narrows the field, bringing me closer to the moment that will define the next chapter of my life.

When pick seven rolls around, my agent touches my shoulder, his expression shifting.

"This might be it," he murmurs.

I sit up straighter, my pulse racing as the NFL commissioner approaches the podium.

"With the seventh pick in the first round of the NFL draft, the New Haven Havoc select..."

The pause feels eternal, the entire room holding its breath.

"Jaxon Montgomery, wide receiver, Pacific Coast University."

Everything explodes at once. My parents are on their feet, cheering. My agent is shaking my hand, grinning broadly. Cameras flash, and I feel myself standing, accepting hugs, high fives, congratulations from every direction.

But through it all, through the chaos and noise and overwhelming sensation of dreams becoming reality, my eyes find Madison.

She hasn't moved from her seat, but her eyes are locked on mine, shining with something I can't quite name. Pride, maybe. Love, definitely. But there's something else there, something that looks a lot like certainty.

I move back to her, ignoring the calls for photos and interviews, and pull her up into my arms.

"New Haven," I murmur against her hair. "You okay with that?"

She pulls back just enough to look up at me, her hands framing my face. “I already told you, Montgomery. I’m going wherever you are.”

I laugh, pressing my forehead to hers. "You sure?"

"Yes, Jaxon." She rolls her eyes, but her voice is gentle.

I kiss her then, in front of everyone—cameras, family, scouts, the whole damn world. She's choosing me again, choosing us, choosing to build something lasting, even as we both step into new chapters .

Carter clears his throat loudly beside us. "Alright, alright, save some of that for later. Time for Montgomery to go do the whole media circus thing."

Madison pulls back with a laugh, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn't step away. Instead, she reaches up, straightening my tie one last time, her eyes holding mine.

"Go," she says, giving me a gentle push. "I'll be right here."

As I follow my agent toward the press area, toward the cameras and the questions and the official welcome to the NFL, I can't help but glance back at her one more time.

Madison Blake, the girl who spent years running, now standing steady, surrounded by my family, Carter's arm slung over her shoulders as he says something that makes her laugh.

She catches me looking and gives me a smile that feels like a promise.

She's ready. We both are.

And after everything we've been through to get here, after all the running and chasing and finding each other again, I know one thing for certain:

This is the beginning we’ve both been waiting for.

Ready for more PCU Storm?

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