Page 74 of Left on Base

“Oh.” My eyes drift to his as I sip my coffee. Same look. Curious. “Callie was in bed with Jameson and I didn’t know. Wasn’t sure if you wanted Jameson to see us together.”

“He already walked in on us, remember?”

“Yeah, but me sleeping with you might be different.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care if he knows.” He raises an eyebrow and sips his coffee. “Callie was there? Jameson didn’t say anything.”

“Maybe he didn’t wantyouto know?”

“Apparently.” Before taking a drink, he shakes his head. “When’s he gonna learn?”

A sharp pain hits my chest. “What do you mean?”

“With Callie. I mean, she’s talking to another guy.” He makes a face. Somewhere between annoyed and—predictable? Like he knows she’s not going to change her mind about Jameson.

“Oh.” Is all I say because now it’s awkward. Our situation is kind of similar, so why is he upset Jameson keeps going back to Callie? I keep going back to him, so what’s the difference?

He doesn’t say anything else. Maybe he realized what he said after my short reply, or maybe not.

We keep walking in silence, my throat tight with anxiety. I want to ask what we’re doing and what we are now, but I’m afraid of the answer.

Listen, I know how dumb I’m being. We’ve established that. But if you’ve ever been in love and always want to please others, you’d get why I can’t make myself ask the questions I need to.

They’re on the tip of my tongue, but what happens if I ask? What if he gets mad? What if his answer changes what we have? It’s good right now. It might not be everything I want, but it’s something.

I know what you’re probably thinking, too. Who cares if he gets mad? You have a right to know. And you’re right, but I can’t stand it if someone’s mad at me.

“My parents were sure excited to see you,” Jaxon says, tossing his empty cup in the trash with practiced ease. The late afternoon sun catches his profile, and I try not to stare at the way it highlights his jawline. He hasn’t shaved in days and the scruff is hot as hell.

“Aww. I missed them too.”

And you. Always you.

He smiles, and it’s real, unguarded, and makes my stomach flip. “They missed you too.”

I bump his arm, fighting the urge to lean into his warmth. “They’re so proud of you.”

The smile dims. “What about you?”

His question catches me off guard, making my pulse skip. “What do you mean?”

I watch his throat as he swallows. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“I’m always going to be proud of you,” I say softly. “No matter what.”

He chews his lower lip. “Even after everything I’ve put you through?”

The ice in my coffee has melted, leaving cold droplets on my fingers. I stare at them instead of him. “Doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

Oh my God. Word vomit much? Someone please shut me up.

His gaze drops to his feet. “It should.”

My heart pounds so hard I swear the passing students must hear it. Is this about Inez? Those texts I pretend I don’t know about? “What do you mean?”

“It should change how you feel about me.” He says it like I’m naive and don’t get how the world works.

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly known for doing what I should.” I try to sound light, even as my chest aches. “And I could never give up on you.”

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