Page 62 of The Summer We Played Pretend

I lift an eyebrow. “Jaded?”

“Things didn’t exactly end well for us, did they?”

“Well—” Melissa and I dated for a few months senior year, and our breakup wasn’t exactly easy. But I didn’t think she ever held it against me. It’s not like I did a Brendan and broke up with her via text.

“I’m just saying, Jackson, you need to do better. I wouldn’t want to see her hurt too.”

“I hurt you?”

She gives a tight smile. “Sure you did.”

Shit.

“I had no idea.”

“Dude, you were Jackson Whitaker. Everyone wanted to date you. I thought I’d won at life getting you as my boyfriend but—”

“But I was a lousy boyfriend.” I grimace. Back in senior year, I discovered alcohol, partying, and generally being an idiot.

“Yeah, you weren’t great.”

“I’m sorry, Mel. You never said. I thought you were okay with us ending things.”

“I was,” she says firmly. “You messed up too many times, and it was exhausting. But it still hurt, knowing I didn’t mean enough to you for you to change.”

I clutch the warm coffee cups and ease out a breath through my teeth. “I wish you’d said.”

“Would you have listened?”

“Maybe not.”

Melissa glances at the door as another customer enters. “All I’m saying is, be careful, Jackson. You don’t have a great track record, and everyone knows Chloe just got her heart shattered by Brendan. And I don’t buy for one minute that she was cheating on him with you, either. She’s too good for that.”

“She is,” I agree.

“So if you’re playing games with someone on the rebound—”

“I’m not playing games.”

“Chloe deserves better, is all I’m saying. Don’t do to her what you did to me.”

"You're right," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I screwed up back then. I was young, stupid, and—"

"And now?" Melissa challenges.

"Now, I’m trying to be better. But Chloe does deserve better. She deserves the world."

“I’ve got to go—” she jerks a thumb toward the new customer “—but just…you know…”

"I hear you," I say, my voice rough. "Thanks for... for being honest."

Melissa gives me a small nod, then turns to face the other customer. I push through the coffee shop door, coffees in hand, and head back to work.

My ex-girlfriend might think she’s telling me something I don’t know, but she isn’t. I know it all already. I’m the bad boy, the greasy mechanic, the guy who doesn’t deserve the good girl.

Melissa’s words echo in my mind as I make my way back to the auto shop, her warning lingering like a shadow. She’s right about one thing—I have a messy history, a trail of broken promises and hurt feelings that I can’t undo. But with Chloe, it felt so different.

Until Ethan came home, that was.

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