Page 167 of The Coach

For a while, we just sit there, watching in comfortable silence. His thumb strokes slow circles on my shoulder.

And then—his voice, quiet and thoughtful.

“I really liked today.”

I tilt my head up to look at him. “Yeah?”

His gaze is steady, warm. “Yeah.” He hesitates. “Your family’s great.”

A slow smile spreads across my face. “They liked you too, you know.”

Jackson smirks. “I mean, Carl literally threatened my life if I hurt you, so…”

“That’s how you know he cares.” I laugh. “I’m not even joking about that.”

He huffs out a laugh. Then, after a beat, he says, “Do you think your mom could tell?”

I blink. “Tell what?”

“That I’m kind of crazy about you.”

My breath catches.

I open my mouth—probably to deflect, probably to make some joke about how hehasto be crazy to deal with me—but the words won’t come.

Because the way he’s looking at me?

It’s different.

It’s serious.

It’sreal.

And for the first time tonight, it hits me.

This isn’t just some casual, let’s-figure-it-out thing anymore.

This is real.

Jackson Knox is in my life. In my town. In my home.

And he wants to be.

Instead of answering, I turn toward him, resting my hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm.

His eyes darken.

And then, slowly, smoothly, he leans in.

His lips brush mine—soft at first, testing.

And then?

Then, I melt.

“Ivy. I already leave Monday and it’s killing me. It’s not enough time with you. I want you to know this is eating at me. But I have an idea for tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” My ears perk up.

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