Page 28

Chloe

T he salty tang of the ocean fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of damp driftwood and seaweed. The waves lap rhythmically against the shore and I stare sightlessly at them as Sara and I sink onto the cool sand.

Beside me, Sara sits cross-legged, studying me carefully like she’s afraid I’ll break. Her hair whips around her face in the breeze, but she doesn’t brush it away.

“I just don’t get it,” I murmur, absently tracing patterns in the sand with a trembling finger. “One minute everything was fine—perfect even—and the next…” My voice falters, and the words hang there, weighty and unfinished. “He won’t even answer my calls.”

Sara doesn’t miss a beat. She reaches out, placing a steadying hand on my arm. “Chloe, stop. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Ethan had no right to blow up at you like that. And Jackson—” She hesitates, her tone firm but careful. “He shouldn’t have hit Ethan.”

The wind gusts suddenly, tugging at my loose sundress, and I shiver. “It was a mistake,” I whisper. “A stupid, impulsive mistake. I know he didn’t mean it, but in that moment…”

It scared me. I can’t pretend it didn’t. I’d never seen that side of Jackson, and it’s like I didn’t know him at all. But what hurts worse is him ghosting me—just like Brendan did.

Ethan showing up again has ruined everything, but maybe it’s forcing me to see the truth. Maybe it’s showing me this fantasy of me and Jackson was never going to work. If he’s willing to give up so easily, maybe I’ve been kidding myself all along.

“I feel stupid,” I admit, my voice trembling as the wind picks up again, chilling my bare shoulders. “I feel like Ethan was only telling the truth, and I just couldn’t face it. Maybe he was right about me and Jackson.”

Sara turns to face me fully, her eyes softening. “Chloe. Jackson cares about you. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

I let out a hollow laugh, the sound swept away by the waves. “If he really cared, why didn’t he fight for us? Why hasn’t he called or texted or come over?”

The call of a distant seagull pierces the air, and I glance up instinctively. Walking along the beachfront path, silhouetted against the dimming light, is Jackson. The wind tugs at his coveralls, the gray fabric smeared faintly with oil stains.

For a moment, everything else falls away. Our eyes meet, and it’s like the world holds its breath. There he is—broad shoulders, familiar stance, the same quiet presence I’d been aching for.

But then he looks away, breaking the spell. My heart stumbles as he stops, stares at me then turns away. He carries a parcel or something in his hand and moves quickly away from the beach.

Sara nudges me, her whisper urgent. “You need to talk to him. Demand answers. Don’t just sit there—go.”

I hesitate, my pulse thundering in my ears. The wind carries a chill, and I rise to my feet, brushing sand from my hands. I rush after him, probably looking desperate but I don’t really care right now.

“Jackson,” I call.

He stops and turns, his expression guarded. “Hey,” he says, his tone neutral, almost distant. “I, uh… just came to grab this for Dad.” He lifts the parcel. “He’s waiting in the truck.”

“Right,” I reply softly, itching to move close and feel the comforting warmth of him again. “Can we talk? Please?”

For a moment, I think he’s going to say no. But then he nods, the motion barely perceptible. “Yeah. Sure.”

I take a deep breath, staring out at the water. “We can’t avoid each other all summer.”

“We don’t have to,” he says, his voice low.

“You didn’t even look at me just now,” I point out.

He exhales sharply. “Look, I think it’s best if we—” Jackson shifts on his feet. “Just leave things as they are.”

I frown. “What does that even mean?”

“It got messy and I saw how you looked at me, Chlo, after the fight with Ethan and I think perhaps we just need to—" He stops and exhales. “We need to just accept that this wasn’t meant to be.”

“I was still confused,” I tell him. “You had just punched my brother.”

Jackson stares at the coffee cups. “That was a mistake.”

“I know.”

He rocks back on his heels, his expression pinched with frustration, like he doesn’t want to be having this conversation but can’t stop himself. “Chloe, you just got out of a long relationship. Don’t you think maybe…maybe you’re not sure what you want?”

His words hit harder than I expect, sharp and cold. I recoil slightly. “That’s not fair,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “What we had—”

“What we had wasn’t supposed to be real, remember?” he cuts in, his voice rising just a little. “It was fake. That’s how it started.”

“But it didn’t stay fake!” My voice cracks, and I hate how desperate I sound. “I know you felt something, Jackson. You can’t pretend you didn’t.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. His expression shutters. “Chloe… you’ve only just finished school. You have your whole life ahead of you. There’s so much you haven’t done, haven’t seen.”

“So now I’m too young to know my own feelings?” I challenge, my voice rising with frustration. “I’m not some lovesick kid, Jackson. I know what I want. Why are you so afraid to admit you feel something, too?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple,” he mutters. “There’s Ethan, and—”

“What about Ethan?” I interrupt. “He doesn’t get to decide this for us. And neither do you.”

His eyes snap back to mine, something flashing there—anger, maybe, or regret. “Chloe, your brother matters. That relationship is permanent. You need to think about what you’d be giving up if we continued.”

I freeze, his words landing like a slap. So that’s it. I see it now, clearer than I want to. Jackson is pushing me away because it’s easier. Easier than fighting for me. Easier than risking everything.

I swallow hard, blinking back tears. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” I whisper. “And you don’t get to act like I’m not worth the trouble.”

This is his fault. Being with Jackson made me want to fight—first Brendan, and now him. If he didn’t want me to fight for him, he shouldn’t have been so amazing.

He looks at me, his expression pained, like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. For one fleeting second, I think he might reach for me. But he doesn’t.

“Then tell me the truth,” I say, heart hammering. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

After a breath, he meets my gaze properly this time. “Fine. You want the truth? I’m afraid…”

Tension lifts slightly from my shoulders.

“I’m afraid you’re not thinking straight. That you’re still hurting over Brendan, and I’m just… a distraction. I don’t want to be the guy who makes things worse for you.”

“You think I’m using you?”

“No!” His voice sharpens as he looks at me, eyes pained.

“I just—I don’t know if you’re ready for this.

For me. And if you’re not…” His voice softens.

“If you’re not, then I’d rather walk away now before either of us gets hurt more.

” He gives a dry laugh. “Look at us—Ethan’s been home for two days, and we’re already hurting each other. ”

“ You’re walking away because you’re scared, not me.”

Jackson doesn’t answer. I feel exhausted, almost worse than after the breakup with Brendan. That was painful and humiliating, but this—this is agony.

“If you don’t want this, Jackson, just say it. I’m not going to beg you to care for me.”

Something flickers in his expression, though I can’t figure out what it is. He opens his mouth as if to respond but then stands. “I’ve got to go.”

“I guess this is it, then.”

“Chloe…” Jackson’s voice is soft, almost pleading, but when I look at him, I struggle to see the confident guy who slung an arm around me and declared me his girlfriend.

I shake my head, my voice steadier now. “I’m done trying to convince you.”

I turn swiftly on my heel and head back to where Sara is pretending to scroll through her phone.

I don’t look back. I’m not willing to be with someone who can’t fight for me or admit how deep things got.

As I approach, Sara looks at me like she knows how much this is killing me but gives me an encouraging smile.

This hurts. God, it hurts.

I briefly glance back and he’s gone. For good, I guess. Tears tingle in my eyes and I sniff, holding them back.

“At least I’ll be off to college soon,” I murmur to Sara as I sink onto the sand next to her.

“Totally.”

“And I’ll forget all about him.”

“Exactly.”

We both know I’m lying.