Page 69 of The Summer We Played Pretend

He stops and turns, his expression guarded. “Hey,” he says, his tone neutral, almost distant. “I, uh… just came to grab this for Dad.” He lifts the parcel. “He’s waiting in the truck.”

“Right,” I reply softly, itching to move close and feel the comforting warmth of him again. “Can we talk? Please?”

For a moment, I think he’s going to say no. But then he nods, the motion barely perceptible. “Yeah. Sure.”

I take a deep breath, staring out at the water. “We can’t avoid each other all summer.”

“We don’t have to,” he says, his voice low.

“You didn’t even look at me just now,” I point out.

He exhales sharply. “Look, I think it’s best if we—” Jackson shifts on his feet. “Just leave things as they are.”

I frown. “What does that even mean?”

“It got messy and I saw how you looked at me, Chlo, after the fight with Ethan and I think perhaps we just need to—" He stops and exhales. “We need to just accept that this wasn’t meant to be.”

“I was still confused,” I tell him. “You had just punched my brother.”

Jackson stares at the coffee cups. “That was a mistake.”

“I know.”

He rocks back on his heels, his expression pinched with frustration, like he doesn’t want to be having this conversation but can’t stop himself. “Chloe, you just got out of a long relationship. Don’t you think maybe…maybe you’re not sure what you want?”

His words hit harder than I expect, sharp and cold. I recoil slightly. “That’s not fair,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “What we had—”

“What we had wasn’t supposed to be real, remember?” he cuts in, his voice rising just a little. “It was fake. That’s how it started.”

“But it didn’t stay fake!” My voice cracks, and I hate how desperate I sound. “I know you felt something, Jackson. You can’t pretend you didn’t.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. His expression shutters. “Chloe… you’ve only just finished school. You have your whole life ahead of you. There’s so much you haven’t done, haven’t seen.”

“So now I’m too young to know my own feelings?” I challenge, my voice rising with frustration. “I’m not some lovesick kid, Jackson. I know what I want. Why are you so afraid to admit you feel something, too?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple,” he mutters. “There’s Ethan, and—”

“What about Ethan?” I interrupt. “He doesn’t get to decide this for us. And neither do you.”

His eyes snap back to mine, something flashing there—anger, maybe, or regret. “Chloe, your brother matters. That relationship is permanent. You need to think about what you’d be giving up if we continued.”

I freeze, his words landing like a slap. So that’s it. I see it now, clearer than I want to. Jackson is pushing me away because it’s easier. Easier than fighting for me. Easier than risking everything.

I swallow hard, blinking back tears. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” I whisper. “And you don’t get to act like I’m not worth the trouble.”

This is his fault. Being with Jackson made me want to fight—first Brendan, and now him. If he didn’t want me to fight for him, he shouldn’t have been so amazing.

He looks at me, his expression pained, like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. For one fleeting second, I think he might reach for me. But he doesn’t.

“Then tell me the truth,” I say, heart hammering. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

After a breath, he meets my gaze properly this time. “Fine. You want the truth? I’m afraid…”

Tension lifts slightly from my shoulders.

“I’m afraid you’re not thinking straight. That you’re still hurting over Brendan, and I’m just… a distraction. I don’t want to be the guy who makes things worse for you.”

“You think I’m using you?”

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