Page 116 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
He nods once and sets the tape roll down. “You forget something?”
I shake my head. “No. I just—” My voice catches, and I blow out a breath. “I talked to Coach.”
That gets a flicker of movement behind his eyes. “About me?”
“About…us.” I step inside, the door closing soft behind me. “About whether it’d be a problem if we—” I stop. “If we didn’t keep pretending we don’t mean something to each other.”
He leans back against the counter, watching me carefully. “And?”
“He said we’re both adults. That whatever happens off the clock isn’t his business with you transferring.”
Max nods slowly, eyes dropping for a second before finding mine again. “So you came here to tell me that?”
“Maybe.” I swallow hard. “Or maybe I came because I didn’t like how we left things earlier.”
He studies me for a moment that stretches too long. “You walked away,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
He lets out a small breath that sounds half like a laugh, half like it hurts. “You know, that’s kind of a first for you.”
“Yeah,” I admit, a weak smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Guess you finally shut me up.”
Something in his expression softens.
The space between us feels small. The smell of medical supplies, detergent, and his cologne mixes in the air, familiar enough to make my pulse skip.
I take another step forward. “You shouldn’t have said it out loud where anyone could have overheard you.”
“I meant it,” he says, steady.
“I know.”
The air shifts between us—something fragile, electric. My heart’s pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“I know,” I say again, softer this time. “Because I still love you, too.”
The words hang there, raw and real.
Max goes completely still. Then he steps forward, slowly like he’s afraid I’ll pull away. His hand lifts, rough fingertips brushing along my jaw before settling against my cheek.
I lean into his touch before I even think about it. The warmth of his palm, the familiar scent of him—it hits all at once, and the weight I’ve been carrying since Christmas cracks down the middle. And I fold into his arms as they come around me, pulling me to his chest.
He exhales, just a breath, but it sounds like relief. Like hope.
“Eli,” he murmurs, my name; a promise and a question all at once.
“Yeah,” I whisper into his shirt.
His hand slides up the back of my neck, fingers settling at the base of my skull. I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek, steady but fast.
“No more hiding,” he says, the words low, almost against my hair. “I want everyone to know I love you.”
I pull back just enough to look at him. “You sure you can do that?”
