Page 32

Chloe

H is lips are warm and desperate on mine as though he’s afraid I might vanish under the waves again.

The icy sensation releases its grip on me as Jackson's strong arms envelop me, chasing away the chill that had seeped into my bones.

I cling to him, my fingers digging into the wet fabric of his shirt, searching for the safety and comfort he provides.

I meet his kiss with equal desperation. Relief that I’m alive, that I’m out of the water merges with an aching need that reminds me I never want to be separated from Jackson again.

My heart continues to pound, and my lungs feel raw. The pull of the waves is long forgotten though.

"Chloe," he mutters briefly, his voice gritty, before his lips come crashing against mine again.

His hands pull me closer, steadier than they have any right to be after what just happened.

My chest is pressed against his, and all I feel is him—solid, warm, alive.

Jackson’s lips taste like salt and rain, and he tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss.

I forget the rain and the waves and wind. Nothing else matters apart from him.

Jackson.

God, I almost lost him. If he hadn’t been there—if he hadn’t reached out for me when I went under—I wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t be feeling this.

He saved me. Again.

I think of all the times Jackson’s been there, steady and sure, while I’ve been falling apart.

Brendan breaking up with me. The fake dates to make him jealous.

All those moments when I felt like I didn’t know who I was anymore.

And then tonight, pulling me from the freezing water like some kind of reckless hero.

Why does he always have to be so…Jackson?

The kiss slows, but he doesn’t let go. His forehead rests against mine, and for the first time since this whole night spiraled out of control, I feel safe.

When the kiss ends, I’m breathless and unsteady.

Jackson doesn’t move away, though. He keeps me close, my body tucked against his, the sand soft underneath me.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The storm rages on around us—wind whipping through the trees, waves crashing against the shore—but here, between us, it’s quiet.

I can hear his breathing, rough and uneven, mixing with mine.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice trembling. "For saving me."

His gaze drops to mine, and he stares at me for several heartbeats, staring at me as though he can’t quite believe I’m here.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, and his hands tighten slightly on my waist. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Me too," I admit, my throat tightening. "I thought—I thought I wasn’t going to make it."

"Don’t say that." His jaw clenches. "Don’t even think that.”

"Jackson..." I don’t know what to say. What could I possibly say? Thank you feels too small for this.

"Chloe, listen." His hands shift, one moving up to cup my face. "I need you to know something. Before tonight, before anything else happens." He swallows, rain dripping from his hair onto his face. “I love you.” The words are soft but desperate. “I love you,” he says again.

I can’t help but smile, my heart feeling as though its stretched too big for my chest. “I love you too.”

His brows knit together, like he’s not entirely sure he heard me right.

"I’m in love with you, Jackson,” I say more firmly. “I know we started this as a whole fake relationship thing, but it really quickly felt real.” I press my lips together. “ You feel real."

"Chloe…"

“I don’t care whether I’m going to college or if Ethan approves. I know what I feel. I know it’s not going to change, and I know you feel the same way.”

He smirks. “I never could get anything past you.” The rain begins to ease, dropping away to a quiet patter but Jackson still holds me close. “And you’re right of course.” He rubs his thumb across my cheek. “I’m sorry I was an absolute idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” I say with a smile. “But you’re the only idiot I want.”

He arches an eyebrow, and he offers a grin. "That’s a lot of pressure, Chlo.”

"Think you can handle it?" I keep my tone playful but I need to know this is it, that we’re taking this shot. Together.

"Absolutely," he says, pulling me closer until there’s barely an inch between us. His forehead dips to rest gently against mine. "Because the truth is, you’ve been my person for a long time now. Fake boyfriend or not."

“Wanna be my real boyfriend again?”

"For sure," he whispers, and then his lips are on mine again—not desperate this time, but warm and sure.

When we pull apart, I glance out at the ocean. The waves are subsiding now, lapping gently at the shore, and the rain trickles in lazy drops, clinging to my hair and sliding down my face. It’s hard to believe I nearly died out there. A shudder runs through me.

"Come on," he says softly, easing me up with an arm around my waist. "You’re freezing, Chloe."

I don’t protest as he pulls me toward his truck, parked on the road by the beach. My legs feel like jelly—probably from adrenaline, or maybe just the aftershock of being kissed senseless—but I let him lead.

When we reach the truck, Jackson pops the passenger door open with one hand and grabs his jacket from the back, tucking it over me as though he’s bundling me up in a blanket. "Here," he says. It smells like him—clean, warm, a little like motor oil—and I pull it tighter around me without thinking.

"Thanks," I murmur, sinking into the seat. The leather is cold against the back of my thighs, but at least I’m out of the rain now. He jogs around to the driver’s side, running a hand through his soaked hair before climbing in beside me.

I feel giddy and more warm than I should, given how drenched I still am.

I can’t believe we’re going to do this. I can’t believe he loves me.

Actually, I can. Of course I can. He could have died trying to save me.

I glance at him as he buckles his seatbelt then his hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles pale. I follow his gaze and realize he’s looking for Brendan.

"He’s probably gone," I say quietly, tugging his jacket tighter around me. I don’t blame Brendan for not jumping into the ocean and putting his life in danger, but it is a reminder of the difference between them.

"Yeah." Jackson exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to shake off the anger simmering just below the surface. "Of course he is. Brendan’s always been a runner. Can’t handle anything that doesn’t go his way."

"Let it go," I tell him softly, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches, just barely, before relaxing under my hand. "Seriously, he’s not worth it.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “You could have died, Chlo. And it would have been his fault.”

“Yeah and somehow I think he’ll steer clear of me from now on. There’s no way he can he come back from this.”

“You’re right,” Jackson says, turning the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, filling the truck with a low hum. "Let’s get you home before you catch pneumonia or something. I’d rather not explain to your brother how I let his little sister freeze to death."

"Fake boyfriend obligations don’t include hypothermia?” I tease. “Noted.”

" Real boyfriend obligations," he corrects, glancing at me with that disarming half-smile of his. "And trust me, Chlo, I take those very seriously."

"Good," I say, matching his smile with one of my own. "Because I’m holding you to it."

“Good,” he mimics.

“Crap, I need to text Sara to let her know I’m okay and…” I tug my phone out from my pocket and grimace as the screen remains blank. “Mom’s going to kill me.”

“She’ll just be glad you’re okay though knowing your Mom, it might be best not to mention it was Brendan’s fault.

She’ll finish the job for me.” He pulls his phone out of his jeans and grins.

“Looks like that protective case my Dad made me get worked a charm. He hands it over. “I’ve got Tyler’s number.

Text him and tell him to get word to Sara. ”

“Good idea, thanks.” I quickly tap in a brief explanation and hand the phone back to Jackson.

He starts the car and the heater hums softly, doing its best to chase away the chill that’s burrowed into my bones.

I sit bundled up on the passenger seat, wrapped in his jacket.

While Jackson’s hand rests on the gearshift, fingers idly tapping along to some old rock song playing low on the radio.

Despite the wet clothes, my sore throat, and my chattering teeth, somehow, everything feels perfect.

As if it always should have been this way. Just him and me.

Outside, the storm has dwindled to a whisper with barely a hint of its viciousness left and I glance over at him, catching the way the dim light softens his features—the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. I’m still struggling to bring myself to believe it’s happening.

He swings a look my way. “This won’t always be easy, you know.”

I nod slightly. “I know.”

“I’m going to miss you like hell when you go to college.”

I smile at the slight crack in his voice. “I’ll miss you too.”

“But we can make it work. We will make it work.”

“We will,” I assure him. “We’ve just got to trust one another, okay?”

“I trust you,” he tells me. “I just didn’t trust myself.”

“Well, maybe if you just let me worry about that part, then we’ll figure the rest out together.”

His lips curve into a small, lopsided smile. He brushes a damp strand of hair from my face. “Together,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word. “Sounds perfect to me.”

As I rest my head against the cool glass window, watching the lights blur and dance outside, I picture our future together.

It’s not laid out like I thought it was meant to be with Brendan.

I don’t know if we’ll marry after college or settle down in Elmwood Glen, but I know it will involve Jackson and that’s all I need right now.