Page 5

Jackson

“C hloe's upstairs,” Mrs. Davenport says the moment I step through the front door, her eyes darting to the tub of Ben and Jerry's in my grip. “Unless that’s for me?” she adds with a grin.

“Next time, Mrs. D.”

“There’s only one reason for ice cream,” Chloe’s mom says. “Has she…?”

“Broken up with Brendan?” I finish for her, and she nods, a crease of worry etching her brow. “I don't know all the details, Mrs. D, but Chloe's tough. She'll get through this.” I offer her a reassuring nod, hoping to ease some of the tension I see in the tight set of her shoulders.

She exhales, clearly frustrated. She looks a little more tired than usual, and I’m guessing Mr. Davenport still isn’t doing well.

“She hasn’t said a word to me, but I knew she’d been crying.”

“I'm sure she'll come around when she's ready. You've always given her space to breathe; she knows that.”

“Ethan will appreciate you coming over. You know how close those two are,” Mrs. Davenport says, her voice softening.

“I can’t give her what Ethan can, but I can provide ice cream.”

She grins. “What more could a girl want?”

With a small smile, I turn toward the stairs, the creaks familiar as I ascend to Chloe's bedroom. Once at the top, I pause before her door, painted a sunny yellow that now feels a bit too cheerful. I knock gently.

“Come in.”

She doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe I’m going to look a freakin’ idiot with a big tub of ice cream and she’s realized Brendan is a smug asshole who no one ever really liked for her.

I push the door open, finding her cocooned in the comfort of her flowery bedding. I feel too big for the room, like my oily hands shouldn’t be anywhere near Chloe’s feminine sanctuary.

“Hey,” I say, stepping inside, the ice cream cradled in one hand like a peace offering.

Her eyes, puffy from crying, spark with something that resembles joy for the briefest of seconds. I hate seeing her like this. Chloe has always been all smiles. Even when studying her ass off, she had this brightness about her, like nothing could drag her down.

My jaw tightens. Apart from that asshole Brendan, apparently. I still wouldn’t mind paying him a visit.

“I can't believe you remembered,” she says, the corners of her mouth lifting into a weak smile as she takes the ice cream and inspects the flavor.

“Even remembered a spoon,” I say, tugging it from my back pocket.

“Sit,” she orders, taking the spoon and ice cream from me and shifting to one side of the bed.

As she moves, I spy long, bare legs until she wraps the duvet back around her. It’s not the first time I’ve seen Chloe’s legs. Heck, Ethan and I have taken Chloe and her friends swimming loads of times, but it feels weird seeing her semi-naked on her bed.

“You can’t just stand there and watch me eat ice cream,” Chloe declares, waving the spoon at me.

I’m being an idiot. This is Chloe Davenport. I’ve known her for years. She’s my best friend’s little sister, and her mom didn’t think twice about sending me up. Of course I can sit next to her on the bed.

The bed dips under my weight when I sit down trying not to think about how ridiculous I look against all the tiny blue flowers.

“I’m glad you remembered my favorite.” Chloe chuckles, though it's a sound that wobbles precariously on the edge of another sob.

“No one could forget your Phish Food phase.”

“It was more than a phase,” she manages to say, spoon paused mid-air. “It was a lifestyle.” And then she laughs, a real one this time, though it's brittle around the edges.

“Right, a lifestyle,” I echo, grinning.

We're both silent for a moment, the ease between us stretching thin as she gathers her thoughts, the spoon now swirling aimlessly through the melting concoction.

“So, uh, how are you?”

“I just don't get it, Jackson.” Her voice is shaky, the words spilling out as if they've been waiting just behind her lips. Her gaze doesn't meet mine, instead finding some invisible point of focus somewhere on the wall. “Everything seemed fine and then...it wasn't.”

I nod, because what else can I do? My hands feel oddly useless, left without anything to fix or fiddle with, so I place one gently on her shoulder, a silent signal that I'm here—really here—for whatever she needs to say. I can’t help feel with Ethan being away travelling for the summer that I have to somehow step into his shoes.

I bet he’d know what to do, though. He was always better with girls than I was.

“It sucks,” is all I manage because there’s no point in saying much else.

“It really does.” She exhales. “And the worst thing is, he’s already been seen with someone else.” Her nose wrinkles. “Maisie Collins.”

I lift my hands. I have no idea who that is.

“She’s in the grade below,” Chloe explains. “She’s cute and blonde and—”

“If you say she’s prettier than you, I’ll throw your ice cream out the window.”

Chloe clutches the ice cream close. “The point is, if he’s moved on that quickly, he must have been cheating on me.”

I hiss out a breath. Now I really, really want to hunt him down.

“You deserve so much better,” I say firmly.

“I thought we were happy. I must have been really, really blind.” Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, search mine for answers I wish I could give.

“Or he’s just a prime asshole, Chlo. You deserve someone who'll treat you with respect, who won't betray your trust. Someone who sees just how incredible you are, Chlo.”

“I don’t feel very incredible at the moment.”

“You’ll get there.”

“Thanks for being here, Jackson. I know Ethan would appreciate it.”

This isn’t even about Ethan, I realize. It’s about Chloe.

“I’m always here for you,” I tell her firmly. “Always.”

She licks the spoon clean, then sets the tub of ice cream on her study desk and leans back against the wall. “I’m dreading facing him at work on Monday.”

“Wait.” I frown, genuinely surprised. “You haven't talked to him yet? Since...you know?”

“No. I can't face him—not after everything. He made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about this.”

I sit up straighter. This isn't like Chloe—the Chloe who argues her point with the passion of a warrior, who never backs down from a challenge. The Chloe who leads the debate team with a fire that can't be extinguished by any amount of opposition.

“You’ve got to confront him. You can’t let him take the easy way out.”

She sighs. “I don't know, Jackson. I just feel so...weak.”

“Look,” I say, scooting closer. “The shop's pretty quiet today. I could give you a lift over to Brendan's place if you want to talk to him. Get some closure or...whatever you need.”

She hesitates, glancing up at me with those big, expressive eyes. I can tell she's wrestling with the idea, but I also see the flicker of determination that I know so well.

“I tried going to his house the other day. He’s ghosting me.”

“He can’t avoid you forever.”

“Especially not when I know where he works,” she says with a half-smile.

“When’s he next at the restaurant? Monday?”

Her brow furrows. “What’s today? Friday?” She glances at her watch. “He’ll be finishing the breakfast shift soon.”

I give her a look, and she narrows her gaze.

“Oh fine, I’ll go confront him, and it will be awful.”

“It might be, but I think you need to, Chlo.”

She scowls at me for a while then sighs. “Do you have to be right all the time?”

“All the time.”

With a deep breath, she pushes up from the bed. As she stands, her elbow catches the edge of the tiny table by her bed, sending a ceramic thing bouncing off the surface and ricocheting between the windowsill and the table before cracking into dozens of pieces and scattering across the carpet.

“Shoot!” Chloe jumps back, her nearly landing on a shard.

“Stay put,” I command, and as she’s balancing on one foot, I scoop her up into my arms.

“Jackson!” she squawks, her hands instinctively circling my neck.

Briefly, I think about how warm she is pressed against me and how smooth her legs are. I swallow hard, step across the mess, and deposit her on the other end of the bed.

“Don't move,” I order. “You'll cut your feet.”

“You’ll cut your hand,” she warns as I kneel down and pick up all the broken shards, then deposit them into the trash can.

“Hope it wasn’t special.”

“I didn't need that thing, anyway,” she tells me. “Mom never lets me burn candles after I singed a hole in the carpet last month.”

“You’ll need to vacuum in case there’s any more shards.”

“Yes, Dad.” Chloe smiles and rolls her eyes. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

“Anytime, Chlo. I mean it.”

“Are you sure you want to play hero again and see me probably embarrass myself in front of Brendan?”

“I want to see the asshole squirm when you confront him, yes.”

“I guess I have no choice then.” Chloe stares at me for a while, then lifts her brows. “Are you going to just stand there while I get changed?”

Shit.

“Uh, no. Right.” I thrust a thumb toward the door.

“I’ll just—” I leave the room quickly and stop at the top of the stairs in case her mom is in the living room.

The last thing I need is Mrs. Davenport asking me why I look like I just escaped a fire.

I can feel heat in my face and hands like I’ve been scalded, and I have been, I guess.

I’ve been trying so hard to fight what I’ve been feeling for Chloe. It was easy, you know, when she was dating Brendan. I was able to shove her to the back of my mind.

But now I just found myself picturing Chloe getting naked, and I’m pretty sure there’s nothing more wrong than picturing your best friend’s little sister naked.