Fall With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 4)
Chapter 20

One thing about me: I’m always prepared for a face full of dick.

In this home, there’s simply no other way to live.

That’s why I’m not surprised when I fling open Jaxon’s bedroom door at seven in the morning, right as he’s stepping out of bed. Why I don’t hesitate when I’m met with a face full of rock-hard dick as I bound across the bedroom, throw my arms around his neck, and tackle him to his bed.

“Jesus, honey,” he grunts out as I straddle him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I cry, face stuffed in the crook of his neck.

His hands scrape up my thighs, grasping my ass. “If this is you not making a big deal out of it, I’d hate to see when you’re outwardly excited.”

“It’s the best gift ever in the history of gifts.” I sit up, slapping at my happy tears, and Jaxon hisses as the head of his cock slips beneath the flimsy crotch of my shorts, meeting the warmth pooled there. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Uh huh,” he murmurs, nails digging into my thighs, hooded gaze fixed on where we’re connected. He shifts me backward, just an inch, then slowly tugs me forward, grinning when I gasp at the feel of his hard, thick cock sliding inside me. “Birthday girls get spoiled around here.”

“Have you ever spoiled a birthday girl?”

“Paid off Gran’s mortgage for her sixty-third birthday when I signed my first contract. Still take her on our annual birthday date night too. She likes dinner at McDonald’s, a dipped cone from Dairy Queen, a walk in the park, and we finish the beautiful evening with Goodfellas, ’cause Gran says there’s little in life prettier than a young Ray Liotta.”

I snicker, letting him guide my hips. “You gonna take me to McDonald’s after the game tonight, Casanova?”

“Fuck yeah.” With his hand on my ass, he flips us over, pinning me beneath the weight of his body. “Gonna spend all the time in between fucking you first, though.” He pushes my knees wide, sinking so deep inside me, every thought in my head gets up and walks out. “Twenty-seven today?” Blows out a hard breath, grinding his pelvis against my clit, working me into a frenzy as he reaches behind him, fiddling with his bedside table. “Tough, but I think I can do it.”

“You can’t possibly—ooohJesusfuckshit.” I claw at the sheets as he holds a small wand vibrator to my clit.

“Hold that for me right there, honey. Yeah, just like that. Good girl.” He pulls out, sinks back in at an achingly slow pace, and I’m shaking, begging. His mouth hooks up in a crooked grin. “Let’s start with this one right here,” he murmurs, pulls out, and slams back inside me as hard and deep as he can, making me see stars right here in the bedroom, in broad daylight, no telescope needed.

Three hours later, when he strolls through the door after morning skate, I’m about to go from spoiled birthday girl to run-and-hide birthday girl. Can’t replace it in me to care.

“Mitts!” Jaxon calls. “Daddy’s home!”

“Oh, yes,” I mutter, clicking away on my camera as Mittens stretches out on his back in the kiddie pool, beneath the golden rays of the sun. He looks utterly exquisite in his shiny green-and-purple mermaid suit, a teensy shell bikini top with a matching fin bottom. The water and fish I’ll Photoshop in later will be the finishing touch. “Work it, baby.”

Mittens rolls around—he’s a natural, a star—ignoring Jaxon’s pss-pss-pss. He’s such a determined model, focused, and if I’m being honest, a bit of a slut for all the attention from his Instagram fans, of which there are now more than half a million.

“Mittens! Come see Daddy, my handsome little marshmallow! Come see Daddy! Pss-pss-pss!”

“Hey.” I snap my fingers, bringing his green eyes back to mine. “Ignore him. It’s just you, me, and the camera.”

“Meow!”

Footsteps pad closer, and I frantically snap photos, knowing our time is about to be cut short. Rolling my eyes, I drop my face to the rug as Jaxon starts singing.

“Silly kitty, chunky kitty, I kiss your tiny nossse. Fluffy kitty, handsome kitty, I love your extra toesss.” His footsteps stop behind me. “Oh, hey, there you guys—ah! Mittens! What are you wearing?” He rushes over, hands on his face as he examines the scene, eyes wide with horror. “What has she done to you?”

Mittens meows, rolling leisurely in his pool, rubbing his face on the catnip goldfish I lured him in there with.

“I told you the other week I was ordering birthday outfits!”

Jaxon tosses his arms wide. “I thought you meant sexy birthday outfits for you!”

I gesture at the pile of cat costumes on the floor. “Clearly I meant sexy birthday outfits for Mittens!”

Jaxon starts scooping up the outfits. “That’s it. You’re out of pocket, Lennon. This is over.”

“No, but—” I ball my fists up, groaning. Leaping to my feet, I rip a red handkerchief, tiny cowboy booties with plastic spurs on them, and a cowboy hat out of Jaxon’s hands. “We still have to do Buckaroo Mitts! He’s the biggest, baddest cowboy in the Wild West!”

Jaxon blinks at the outfit. “Fuck, that’s cute.” He shakes his head. “But that’s beside the point! I’m his dad; you need my permission before you dress him up! Plus”—he props his fists on his hips, looking properly outraged—“if I’d known you were doing a fashion show, I woulda got his tux steamed!”

“Mittens has a tux?”

He scoffs, a look of utter disgust on his face. “Every respectable cat dad has a tux for their son, Lennon. Please. You insult me.”

“Okay, then,” I mutter, replaceing my bag of accessories, pulling out a real cowboy hat. “I got you a matching one.”

His eyes glitter, and he slaps the tiny hat on Mittens’s head. “C’mon, cowboy.” He smooshes their faces together, grinning at my camera. “Handsome boys only.”

As expected, what started as a photoshoot of Mittens turns into a cat-and-dad session, swapping out one ridiculous accessory for another. When I’m tucking my camera away, Jaxon calls out for me to wait.

“We need one of all three of us.” He keeps on his pink heart-shaped sunglasses but unwraps his pink feather boa, wrapping it around my neck. Mittens has both, looking like an absolute queen as Jaxon cradles him between us. He smiles at my camera for the first picture, kisses my warm cheek for the second, and my surprised lips for the third.

When I return from lunch with the girls later, he’s fixing his hair in his bathroom, wearing a pair of dark blue slacks, brown leather shoes and a matching belt, crisp white button-down tucked into his pants, looking so fine I briefly consider the beautiful babies we’d make.

He glances at me as I flop down on my belly next to Mittens on his bed. “Good lunch?”

“Amazing. They spoiled me.” I roll onto my back. “I offered to photograph Jennie’s grand opening for her studio at the end of the month. She said she didn’t want me to feel pressured. I said if there are grown men who pretend to be badasses but melt for all the little girls who are going to ask them to dance, there must be photographic evidence.”

He huffs a laugh. “As long as there’s no karaoke.”

“Of course not, Jaxon. It’s a dance studio opening.” I check my nails. “The karaoke bar is the celebration later that night.”

Something clatters to the sink. “Karaoke bar?”

“Jennie said her and Carter need a bigger stage.”

“Why?” He drags his hands down his face then gestures wildly around the room. “The whole world is their stage. When will it be enough?”

“That’s so funny. Olivia said the exact same thing.”

Jaxon groans, stalking to his closet. He shrugs into a navy suit jacket, notching his fuck me factor sky high. Twenty out of ten, keep the suit on and put a baby in me. I’m ready.

“You riding with me?” His eyes twinkle as he watches me slither beneath his covers. “Guessing that’s a no.”

“I don’t have to be there for another hour and a half.” I scoop Mittens into my chest, inhaling the smell of Jaxon on the pillow. “Gonna take a thirty-minute catnap.”

He chuckles, clapping a hand to my ass and kissing my temple before he heads for the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. I found something at the grocery store earlier that reminded me of you, so I picked them up for you. Bag’s under the bed.”

I launch myself over the bed, smacking around at the floor until my fingers replace it. Despite the paper bag with the neighborhood grocery store stamp, I can tell this wasn’t bought there.

I lift the hand-painted cheetah-print Crocs from the bag. “So weird. I didn’t know Urban Fare sold Crocs. Hand-painted ones too.”

“Yeah, me neither. I just saw the cheetah-print pattern, and they reminded me of your neck pillow when we fly.”

“Hmm. And the charms? They sell all these there too?” I run my fingers over the little charms. A cat, a camera, a hockey stick, the number 69, mountains, stars, and⁠—

“Your onion goggles.” He gestures haphazardly at the swimming goggles charm, then at the yellow slice of pie. “Mimi’s famous key lime pie.”

Oh. My. God. This man is the most adorable human to ever walk this earth, I’m sure of it.

Jaxon clicks out a beat with his tongue, clapping his fist into his opposite hand. “Anyway, your old Crocs are falling apart, so.”

“You hate my Crocs.”

“They’re ugly.” He points at the pair in my hands. “Those ones, though? Those are dope as fuck. Can’t believe I just found ’em at the grocery store.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Jaxon. These are clearly a custom order. Would it kill you to admit that you’re an extremely thoughtful human? You got me the telescope.”

He holds up a finger. “There was no name on the card, so you can’t prove it was me.”

I roll my eyes, setting the Crocs on Jaxon’s pillow, tucking their bottom half below the blankets, like they’re sleeping next to me. “You are the most annoying person I have ever met!” I shout as he heads down the hall.

“Yeah, likewise, honey!”

“Don’t come near me at the game!”

“I’m gonna get in all your shots!”

“I hate you!”

“I hated you first!”

I smile, snuggling into his bed. “Thank you for the Crocs, Jaxon!”

“Welcome, honey!”

“How many fights do you think you’ll get into?”

“Like, career total, or just this season?” Jaxon looks over his shoulder before turning left. “’Cause I’m already at⁠—”

“No fighting. Right before you stepped on that ice tonight, I said, ‘Boy, wouldn’t it be so cool if you didn’t fight tonight since it’s my birthday?’ And you smiled like you agreed.”

“I smiled because I thought you were joking! I literally said to the guys, ‘Did you hear Lennon’s joke?’ We laughed about it on the ice! They said you were funny!”

“I am funny, but that’s neither here nor there!” I cross my arms over my chest, huffing. Sure, Jaxon getting all pushy and mouthy with another player is hot as balls, but watching him trade shots with a player with at least twenty pounds on him had my stomach in knots tonight. His head swung around so hard on the single punch he took, I was certain he wouldn’t remember my name after the game. Then he laid the other guy out, spat the blood from his mouth, and winked at me as he skated to the penalty box, because heaven forbid he finish the regular season without another penalty.

“You weren’t scared, were you?”

“What?” I swat his hand away when he glides it over my thigh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Really? ’Cause you looked you wanted to hop over the boards and play doctor.” He grins, eyes twinkling beneath the moonlight. “You’d make a hot doctor. I can be your patient later if you want.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” Purse my lips. “Maybe.” Twisting, I squint out at the dark night. Somewhere along the way after the game, Jaxon took a wrong turn, and now we’re on the highway, crawling up the west coast, shrouded in darkness, surrounded by mountains and inky pines. “Where are we? I thought we were going to McDonald’s.”

“I lied.”

“You lied?”

“Don’t worry. Got takeout delivered to the arena. It’s in the back.”

“You ordered takeout? Why? Where are we going? Does this mean I’m not getting ice cream for dessert?”

“Oh my God.” He tugs at his tie, pulling it free and tossing it at me. “Put this on.”

“Pardon?”

“Put it on. Over your eyes.”

“Uh, pass.”

“Please, tidbit. Let me surprise you. And I got you a fucking ice cream cake, okay? Nut-free. It’s at home in the freezer. The sooner you comply and put on your blindfold⁠—”

“Oh, God, now it’s a blindfold.”

“—the sooner you can have your ice cream.”

Sighing, I place the silk over my eyes, tying it at the back, below my hair clip. My heart races, blood pounding in my ears as I listen, the sound of the engine as it pulls off the highway, the crunch of tires on gravel as we slow, the silence that follows when we eventually stop, and Jaxon telling me to wait here, that he’ll be right back. All of it is heightened, filling the night, making my nerves dance. I’m confused and a little bit scared, because nobody’s ever planned a surprise anything for me. But I’m excited, too, and when Jaxon takes my hand, helping me from the car and leading the way, I can’t shut up.

“What are we doing? Where are we? Did you bring me a pair of your sweats? It’s cold, and they’re cozy. I’m hungry, but I’m also nervous and excited, so I don’t know what’s what in my belly. Hey, do you⁠—”

“Lennon?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

Jaxon comes to a stop, and all I can hear is the beat of my heart, the quiet lap of water against shore. It feels like it’s right here, right at my feet and all around me, the moisture in the air kissing my cheeks.

And then Jaxon moves behind me, unknots his tie, and squeezes my shoulders. “Happy birthday, honey.”

Uncertainty clenches my fists, and I pull in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. And then I open my eyes.

I gasp, hands flying to my mouth, and tears build in my eyes without warning.

Towering pines and endless mountains paint the skyline, touching the inky water, the slightest breeze sending a gentle ripple through the otherwise still bay.

And there, above it all, dazzling ribbons of green, orange, pink, and purple dance through the deep blue sky, thousands upon thousands of stars singing as the Northern Lights illuminate my world.

“What do you think?” Jaxon asks quietly. “Porteau Cove is supposed to be the best place out here to see the Northern Lights and stargaze. We got lucky today; the Kp index—which measures the earth’s geomagnetic energy, if you didn’t know, but I assume you do—is seven tonight. So, um, when the Kp is higher, the Northern Lights get farther from the poles, and then …” He gestures at the vivid colors before us, a look of wonder on his face before he smiles down at me. “Maybe they’re dancing just for you tonight. For your birthday.”

Okay, well. Shit. Fuck. “I . . . I . . .” Tears explode from my eyes, pouring down my face. I launch myself at Jaxon, legs around his waist, clinging to him.

His hand moves over my back as he whispers, “Do you like it?”

A simple yes would probably suffice. Instead I take his face in my hands and tell him, “You’re my line.”

“What?”

“The line that marks my before and after. I met you during the worst time in my life, and everything that’s come since you has been so much better. This, Jaxon?” I gesture at a sky I’ve been dreaming of seeing in person for as long as I can remember. That’s when I notice the blanket laid out by the shore, the pillows, a bag of takeout, a pile of warm clothes, and my brand-new telescope, set up and pointing at the stars. I sniffle, tears dripping down my cheeks. “This is my favorite day, and it’s because of you.”

“I didn’t . . . I mean, I just wanted to give you something that you . . . that you like. That you wanted. And I wanted you to know . . . it’s never too late to chase the dreams you had when you were a kid.” He grips my neck as I fuse my mouth to his. “Just to be sure, because I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a line . . . Being your line, it’s a good thing, right?”

I bury my laugh in his neck. “Remember the first game I was at? When we went to the bar after, and right before I walked away from you, you asked me if I wanted to be friends?”

“You said, ‘That’s a fuck no, fuckboy’.” He frowns. “Also something about preferring getting your period in white pants, which, when I look back at it now, was pretty mean.”

“I’m sorry. You really didn’t make a good first impression.” I shush him with my finger over his lips when he opens them to argue. “You, not Magic Mike. Magic Mike made an outstanding first impression.”

“Outstanding, lasting impression,” he mutters.

“I didn’t want to be your friend, Jaxon. I didn’t even want to see you again. Now I hate when the plane lands in whatever city you’re playing in, because road trips are the quietest, loneliest parts of my week. I’d choose you annoying me over a quiet head every day, Jaxon.” I press my lips to his once more. “I didn’t want to be friends, but somewhere along the way, you’ve become one of my best ones.”

He swallows, dropping his gaze, his cheeks warming beneath my palms. “Nah, not me. I’ve never been anyone’s best.”

I tilt my head as I plant my feet back on the ground. “You really underestimate yourself, you know?” Taking his hand in mine, I lead him to the blanket. “Carter, Garrett, Adam, Emmett … you’re a part of their best, the same way they’re a part of yours. The girls too. None of them would trade you in, Jaxon. Same way I wouldn’t.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I feel his eyes on me as I strip down to my panties, pull on the sweats he packed me. They’re cozy and oversized and smell like my favorite version of heaven. We’re not the only ones here, but we’re on a quiet, empty stretch of pebbled shore, the other stargazers teensy blips along the dark horizon that make this night feel private and intimate, something for only Jaxon and me to share.

We spread out on the blanket with our late dinner—burgers the size of my head, an entire paper bag filled with Cajun fries, and a chocolate banana milkshake to split—watching the lights as they move slowly through the sky. When we’re done eating, I test out my new telescope, aiming it at the constellations way up high. The silence is peaceful, emptying my head of every thought, every worry as I take in the wonder of the sky, something so incredible and ethereal about the way those stars up there shine every damn night no matter what.

I’m so wrapped up in the night, I almost miss the quiet crunch of Jaxon’s footsteps as he moves toward me, the warmth licking at my back when he stops there.

Almost, but not quite. Because Jaxon Riley is impossible to miss.

“Come.” I reach behind me, waiting until he slips his hand into mine, and then I pull him forward, letting him peer into the telescope. “Look.”

“Holy shit,” he gasps, head snapping up to look at the sky without the telescope, then with it again. “Len, what the fuck? There’s, like, a million stars when you look through the telescope!”

“They say with the naked eye, on a dark, clear night you can see around ten thousand stars. With that, you could see, hmmm . . . fifty million?”

“Fifty million?”

“It’s a good telescope.” Incredible, really. Jaxon spared no expense for my birthday. He steps aside, letting me back in. I replace what I’m looking for, then point to the sky. “You see those three stars there, brighter and bigger than the rest?” When he nods, I pull him back to the telescope. “That’s the middle one.”

“Ho-ly shit. Is that⁠—”

“Jupiter.”

“Lennon. I’m looking at a fucking planet right now.” He whips his head up, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. “I can see its stripes!”

“Those stripes are actually wind and clouds. And do you see that red spot in the lower half? It’s a giant storm that’s been going on for hundreds of years.”

“What? Holy shit.” He stares through the telescope, hands cradling the body of it like it’s a precious baby. “This is the coolest thing ever.”

“Guess how many Earths can fit in the red spot.”

“Uh . . . trick question? None?”

“Three.”

His eyes pop. “Three? No fucking way! Wow! We’re so tiny!”

We stand there for ages while I blow Jaxon’s mind with mini astronomy lessons, and when we finally lie back on the blankets and pillows, it’s close to one in the morning. I listen to the quiet patter of Jaxon’s heart as I lay my ear over it, the pad of his thumb stroking my neck, his hand over mine on his torso while we stare up at the sky.

“Where do you think people go when they die?”

The words are so soft, so cautious, I almost miss them.

“I don’t really think they go anywhere,” I answer after a moment. “I think they stay with us.”

“My gran once told me that we become stars when we die. That the people we love and lose are set free in the sky, where no one can dull their light.” He swallows. “And they shine bright so . . . so we know they’re still with us. That they’re looking over us.”

I tangle my fingers with his, squeezing gently. “That’s really beautiful, Jaxon.”

His hand glides up my neck, stopping at the clip in my hair. “Can I take this out?”

When I nod, he removes it, sinking his fingers in my curls. He sighs, absently twining my locks, and we lie together quietly for so long, until he opens his mouth and whispers seven words.

“I met Bryce when I was four.”

As desperately as I want to sit up, I don’t dare move. I know Jaxon well enough to know that telling this story is easiest for him without the pressure of my gaze. So I stay tucked in his side and hope knowing he’s not alone is enough.

“First day of Tyke. He was my goalie, quiet and nervous, but fearless in net, even at that age. He was the smallest kid on our team, and he was picked on a lot that day by someone nearly twice his size. Shoved him down to the ice, and he couldn’t get back up on his own in all his equipment.” He pauses, and I glance up, replaceing him smiling at the memory. “I helped him to his feet, and then I rocked that other kid into the boards. Gran didn’t know whether to be proud or mortified.” His gaze falls to mine, and he brushes a curl out of my eyes. “No one ever messed with Bryce again. I became his protector that day.” His smile falls, throat working. “I was supposed to protect him.”

Memories flit across his eyes, and the pain there wraps around my heart and squeezes. It’s so palpable, so raw, I place my hand over the ache, willing it to leave.

“We were inseparable, even though he lived in the next town over. We played on the same team every year, had sleepovers every weekend when we were older, and we drove my gran up the wall every summer. She said she was too old to keep up with two of us, but she made Bryce his favorite homemade strawberry ice cream every week anyway.

“Gran left after breakfast for her shift at the grocery store. We played hockey in the driveway all morning. Both of us, we were good. We knew we were good. Bryce was gonna be a goalie in the NHL one day, and when we were just playing around like that, he’d spend the entire time shit-talking me, reminding me I could never get past him. He said it was the only thing he could beat me at, but I think he was better than me at everything.”

He looks down at our twined hands, licking his lips. “He said if I could score on him three times before lunch, I got to choose what we were doing.” He swallows, and his voice cracks on his next sentence. “Took me two hours, but I chose the forest out back.”

I sit up, tugging him with me, because I can’t bear it anymore. The weight is crushing, suffocating, and I don’t want him to carry it on his own anymore. With my legs crossed, I face him, holding his hands in mine, sweeping my thumbs along his cracked, raw knuckles.

“It’s my fault. I didn’t check to make sure he had his EpiPen first. I should’ve reminded him, but I was out the door as soon as our dishes were in the sink, running toward the trees, yelling for him to follow.” Tears fill his eyes, and he looks away, wiping them on the sleeve of his hoodie. “Five minutes. We were there five minutes when he screamed. He was clutching his neck, saying something bit him. I moved his hand to look, and it was just this . . . angry red splotch, a small bump in the middle. But there was something sticking out of it, something so tiny, this little black pin, and I pulled it out, and . . . and . . .” Tears drip from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. He doesn’t bother trying to swipe these ones away. Instead, he looks down and cries. “He had brown eyes, Len. Big and dark, and when I look into yours, sometimes all I see is his. And I’ll never, ever forget the way those eyes looked at me when he saw the bee stinger in my hand.

“I ran so fast. So fucking fast, I ran back to the kitchen. My gran was coming in the door from her shift, and I shouted at her to call nine-one-one. She watched me pick up Bryce’s EpiPen pouch, and five seconds later, when I was sprinting back across the yard, I heard her demanding an ambulance.

“Bryce was on the ground when I got back, lying in the dirt, a pile of vomit beside him. His face was all swollen, and he didn’t . . . he didn’t even look like him. But then I got on the ground beside him, promised him he was going to be okay, and he opened his eyes, and there he was. As long as I had his eyes, he was going to be okay.”

Tears run down my face, and I clutch Jaxon’s hands tightly in mine.

“I looked away just long enough to inject his EpiPen, and when I looked back, his eyes were gone. He’d passed out. I pulled him into my lap, hugged him tight as I listened to the ambulance pull up out front, Gran shouting at them, footsteps thundering toward us.”

He drops his head, shoulders shaking as he cries. I fling my arms around him, clutching him to me as he tells me how the paramedics couldn’t replace a pulse. How they tried CPR over and over, but couldn’t get a pulse to restart his heart. How he refused to let go of him when they said he was gone, and how his gran had to tear Jaxon off him. How she held him for hours on the forest floor while he sobbed.

How his tie was a mess at Bryce’s funeral three days later, because he could never figure them out, and Bryce always did it for him.

How Bryce’s parents couldn’t bear to look at Jaxon.

And how, when the funeral was over and his gran pulled him to the car, that was the last time he ever saw them.

“I wasn’t enough. Not patient enough to slow down and make sure he had his EpiPen in the first place. Not fast enough when I ran back to the house, or back to the forest. Not fast enough or smart enough to save his life.”

“It’s not your fault, Jaxon.” I grab his face in my hands, pulling his broken gaze to mine. “Look at me. It’s not your fault, do you hear me? It was a freak accident, and you were kids. You did absolutely everything you could do. Do you understand? Bryce knows that, Jaxon. His parents know that.”

He shakes his head, closing his eyes to more tears. “They hate me. They blame me. They were like parents to me, and when he died, it was like they died too.”

I stroke his cheek, swiping away his tears. “They don’t hate you, honey. They lost their child, and they didn’t know how to survive in a world where everything reminded them of him. I bet they think about you all the time.” I smile, and Jaxon’s eyes track a tear that drips down my face. “Bet they watch all your hockey games, too, just like Bryce. You know he’s watching, right?”

“You think?”

“Definitely. He’s on my side about the whole fighting thing.” I spin to the south, holding my hand out to Jaxon when I replace what I’m looking for. “Here. Look up there, to the right. Do you see those three bright stars in a straight line? That’s Orion’s belt. Follow it down, and just there, right above the horizon, do you see?”

“The big, bright star?”

“That’s Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. When you’re looking for Bryce in the stars, look there. He’ll light even the darkest nights.”

Jaxon is quiet for a few moments, staring up at the sky. When I shiver, he moves behind me, pulling me back against his chest. I’m not ready to leave, so I’m glad he doesn’t ask. Instead, we sit together in silence while he holds me, the beat of my heart slowing to match his.

He sweeps my curls off my shoulder, pressing a kiss below my ear before resting his chin on my shoulder. “You were distracting at the game tonight.”

“I was?”

“Yeah. I like your curls down, the way they frame your face. They move when you laugh, and it makes me smile. But then you pulled your hair up in the second period, and I like when you do that too. You’ve got perfect cheekbones. And your neck, I . . . whenever you show off your neck, I just … can’t take my eyes off you. Want my hands all over you, my mouth.”

“Then why’d you take my hair down earlier?”

“To stop myself from kissing you.” He hesitates, and I turn in his lap. He looks away, then back to me. “You give me a lot of you, Lennon. I think I admire that about you. Shitty things have happened, and instead of holding them in and letting them eat you from the inside out, you talk about them. I think that gives you some sort of power of the situation, you know? Anyway, I just …” He shifts his beanie up, runs his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to give you some of me too. And that story … I haven’t shared it with anyone but the therapist I saw back then. I’ve never wanted to share it with anyone. Until …”

The single word is left unsaid, hanging heavy in the air between us.

You. Until you.

He glances down, rubbing the back of his neck. With my fingers on his chin, I bring his gaze back up. His eyes move between mine, and the fear there, the uncertainty, it makes my heart ache. In losing his best friend, he’s lived all these years feeling not good enough. Not good enough to save Bryce. Not good enough for his parents to stay, to remember an innocent boy who lost so much. And now he sits before me, waiting to see if I’m going to do the same thing. If I’m going to leave, and forget all about him.

Where would I go? If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that this man sees me. He hears me. He knows me.

He makes me feel happy. Safe. Valued. He makes me feel capable.

And that right there? That’s a powerful, magnificent feeling.

So right here, beneath all the stars and the fading, dancing lights, I capture his mouth with mine. I kiss him until I can’t breathe, and then I pull his hoodie over his head. I stand, shimmying out of my clothes while Jaxon watches me the same way he watched all those stars shine in the sky. And then, in the cold, early hours of an April morning, I lower myself to his lap and show him there’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be right now than with him.