Page 166 of The Coach

But then he scoffs, shakes his head, and mutters, “Jesus. Whatever.” He backs up a step, his eyes flicking to me one last time. “Good luck, Ivy.”

And then he’s gone, disappearing into the night.

I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Jackson stays tense beside me, his fists still clenched. He watches Kyle until he’s out of sight, then exhales through his nose, shaking his head.

“Asshole.”

I swallow hard. “Jackson. Thank you. You handled that well.”

His gaze snaps to mine, sharp and fierce. “You need to tell me if he bothers you again. If he so much aslooksat you the wrong way—or even the right way, I want to know. That dude is not right in the head.”

There’s something possessive in his voice, something protective that makes heat roll through me.

I nod. “Okay.”

He runs a hand down his face, exhaling hard, like he’s trying to shake it off. Then, finally, he looks at me again, his features softening slightly. “You okay?”

I nod again. “Yeah.”

Jackson studies me for a second longer before wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side.

“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get out of here.”

As the festival winds down and the air turns cooler, Jackson and I leave the fairgrounds, walking back to my place in comfortable silence. The night sky is clear, stars twinkling above us, and the scent of caramel apples and bonfire smoke lingers in the air.

When we reach my door, he hesitates, hands in his pockets. “You tired?”

I smirk. “You asking because you’re exhausted, or because you’re hoping I’m not?”

His lips twitch. “Both.” He leans in slightly. “Was kind of hoping we could keep hanging out.”

I arch a brow. “Hanging out?”

He grins. “Yeah. You know. On the couch. Watching a movie.Behaving.”

I laugh. “You? Behaving?”

“Hey, I’m capable.” His grin turns a little cocky. “For, like, ten minutes.”

I shake my head but step inside, leaving the door open for him. “Fine. Pick a movie.”

Jackson toes off his shoes and heads for the couch while I change into some comfy clothes—leggings and one of his hoodies that he left behind in Riverbend last time. When I come back, he’s flipping through movies, looking annoyingly comfortable on my couch.

I plop down beside him. “So? What are we watching?”

He stretches an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers lightly grazing my shoulder. “Something that’s not gonna make me look like an asshole for falling asleep halfway through.”

I shake my head. “So, nothing with subtitles.”

He shoots me a look. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

He chuckles, finally selectingThe Mummy—a classic action movie, low-stakes but entertaining. And with the most attractive cast ever assembled, apparently.

As the movie starts, I curl into his side, and he pulls me closer, his arm draped around me. His body is warm, solid, and the steady rise and fall of his chest is soothing.

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