Page 79 of The Summer We Played Pretend

"Chloe, listen." His hands shift, one moving up to cup my face. "I need you to know something. Before tonight, before anything else happens." He swallows, rain dripping from his hair onto his face. “I love you.” The words are soft but desperate. “I love you,” he says again.

I can’t help but smile, my heart feeling as though its stretched too big for my chest. “I love you too.”

His brows knit together, like he’s not entirely sure he heard me right.

"I’m in love with you, Jackson,” I say more firmly. “I know we started this as a whole fake relationship thing, but it really quickly felt real.” I press my lips together. “Youfeel real."

"Chloe…"

“I don’t care whether I’m going to college or if Ethan approves. I know what I feel. I know it’s not going to change, and I know you feel the same way.”

He smirks. “I never could get anything past you.” The rain begins to ease, dropping away to a quiet patter but Jackson still holds me close. “And you’re right of course.” He rubs his thumb across my cheek. “I’m sorry I was an absolute idiot.”

“Youarean idiot,” I say with a smile. “But you’re the only idiot I want.”

He arches an eyebrow, and he offers a grin. "That’s a lot of pressure, Chlo.”

"Think you can handle it?" I keep my tone playful but I need to know this is it, that we’re taking this shot. Together.

"Absolutely," he says, pulling me closer until there’s barely an inch between us. His forehead dips to rest gently against mine. "Because the truth is, you’ve been my person for a long time now. Fake boyfriend or not."

“Wanna be my real boyfriend again?”

"For sure," he whispers, and then his lips are on mine again—not desperate this time, but warm and sure.

When we pull apart, I glance out at the ocean. The waves are subsiding now, lapping gently at the shore, and the rain trickles in lazy drops, clinging to my hair and sliding down my face. It’s hard to believe I nearly died out there. A shudder runs through me.

"Come on," he says softly, easing me up with an arm around my waist. "You’re freezing, Chloe."

I don’t protest as he pulls me toward his truck, parked on the road by the beach. My legs feel like jelly—probably from adrenaline, or maybe just the aftershock of being kissed senseless—but I let him lead.

When we reach the truck, Jackson pops the passenger door open with one hand and grabs his jacket from the back, tucking it over me as though he’s bundling me up in a blanket. "Here," he says. It smells like him—clean, warm, a little like motor oil—and I pull it tighter around me without thinking.

"Thanks," I murmur, sinking into the seat. The leather is cold against the back of my thighs, but at least I’m out of the rain now. He jogs around to the driver’s side, running a hand through his soaked hair before climbing in beside me. I feel giddy and more warm than I should, given how drenched I still am.

I can’t believe we’re going to do this. I can’t believe he loves me.

Actually, I can. Of course I can. He could have died trying to save me.

I glance at him as he buckles his seatbelt then his hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles pale. I follow his gaze and realize he’s looking for Brendan.

"He’s probably gone," I say quietly, tugging his jacket tighter around me. I don’t blame Brendan for not jumping into the ocean and putting his life in danger, but it is a reminder of the difference between them.

"Yeah." Jackson exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to shake off the anger simmering just below the surface. "Of course he is. Brendan’s always been a runner. Can’t handle anything that doesn’t go his way."

"Let it go," I tell him softly, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches, just barely, before relaxing under my hand. "Seriously, he’s not worth it.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “You could have died, Chlo. And it would have been his fault.”

“Yeah and somehow I think he’ll steer clear of me from now on. There’s no way he can he come back from this.”

“You’re right,” Jackson says, turning the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, filling the truck with a low hum. "Let’s get you home before you catch pneumonia or something. I’d rather not explain to your brother how I let his little sister freeze to death."

"Fake boyfriend obligations don’t include hypothermia?” I tease. “Noted.”

"Realboyfriend obligations," he corrects, glancing at me with that disarming half-smile of his. "And trust me, Chlo, I take those very seriously."

"Good," I say, matching his smile with one of my own. "Because I’m holding you to it."

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