Page 75 of The Love Playbook

I hum thoughtfully. “And what circumstances are those?”

She opens her eyes again. “The ones in which I’d prefer to be left alone rather than called out on every unexpressed thought.”

“Right.” It comes out rough and clipped. “I apologize. I wasn’t trying to pry.”

There’s that smile again. It brightens her face, making her glow every time. “You were, actually. I’m not sure why you’re trying to deny it now. You came in here with that as your primary goal—to pry into what happened, how I’m doing, why I didn’t go to the ER though I clearly didn’t need to, and now what thoughts I’ve decided don’t merit stating out loud. You are the very definition of prying tonight, Jackson. Just own it.”

I can’t help laughing at her assessment, and I hold my hands up in surrender. “Alright. I won’t deny it. I wouldn’t call my goal prying, but finding out what happened and how you’re doing were definitely the motivating factors.”

Her smile fades as she examines me. “But why, Jackson? You’ve been avoiding me. I’d hoped we could go back to being friends, but apparently that isn’t possible.” She holds up a hand, palm out. “Which is fine. I know that not everyone can do that. Your boundaries are always acceptable. But”—the hand flips over, palm up—“given all of that, why are you here?”

My nostrils flare as I suck in a breath. “Just because you don’t want to be with me doesn’t mean I can flip a switch and turn off my feelings. I’ve been avoiding you because I’m afraid if I talk to you, I’ll start begging you to give me a chance. To go out with me again, on a real date this time. We could take it slow if you want. We don’t have to rush into anything physical, just to put more distance between what we had and what Iwantto have. With you.”

“Jackson.” My name is a whisper, a breath, barely a sound. But so full of anguish that clearly has nothing to do with her neck.

I look away, unable to bear this yet again. I don’t know what I was thinking coming over here.

Well, I guess I do. I was thinking that this woman I care about was injured and I needed to make sure she was okay with my own eyes. I’ve done that. I’ve done as much for her as she’ll allow.

And now …

Now I get to sit and stew in the awkwardness until Ellie and Piper return and save me from my own foolishness.

She clears her throat, drawing my eyes, and her gaze is steady and serious. “It’s normal for you to feel a strong attachment to me given that I was your first sexual relationship. However—”

I make a chopping motion with my hand, cutting her off. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she asks calmly.

“Don’t try to tell me that I’m blowing my feelings out of proportion or that I onlythinkI have feelings for you.Don’ttell me what I feel.”

She lets her head fall back against the couch again, and I get a twinge of guilt at forcing this on her when she’s injured and clearly not feeling her best. “I’m sorry.”

I look down at my hands and pick at a hangnail. “I know I don’t have a lot of experience with relationships. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know myself or my feelings. What I feel for you isn’t just lust or desire, and it isn’t because you’re the first girl to give me a blowjob.”

Lifting my eyes, I find her staring at me intently. “I wantyou, Autumn. With your clutter and mess and fading turquoise hair. I want to listen to you discuss your philosophies on relationships and the nature of humanity. I want to see you sweep your hair up on top of your head and secure it impossibly with just a pencil. And I want to feed you and take care of you and spend time with you. I want to learn about the things you’re interested in. I don’t even care what we do. I’ll organize your closet or rub your neck or let you use me as a pillow just for the joy of being in your presence.” Keeping my eyes on hers, I swallow hard. “I love you. Not the way you make me feel, though that’s pretty damn good. But I loveyou.All of you. Whether you want me to or not.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Autumn

I stare at Jackson for a long moment, trying to take in everything he just said. I open my mouth to respond, but I don’t even know what to say, so I close it again.

He sits on the other end of the couch, patient and still. Like he has all the time in the world for me to formulate my thoughts into something coherent.

Or like he doesn’t actually expect me to respond at all.

I could do that, I guess. Just sit here and say nothing. That would be easier, in some ways.

But the truth is, I can’t do that to Jackson. I care about him.

More than just care, whispers that voice in my head that has grown more and more annoying where Jackson is concerned.

Ellie’s words from the other day run through my head again. They’ve been playing on a loop any time I think about Jackson.You don’t deserve what’s best for you? Even if nothing lasts, isn’t it worth the risk to experience the joy of the present?

I’ve been pushing aside those words that have been nagging at me, refusing to contemplate them. Because the truth is, I’m miserable without Jackson. I’ve been miserable ever since that day in the bakery when I told him it was over.

And the whole point—the entire fucking purpose—of not getting involved in a relationship was to avoid this very situation.

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