To the guy who made her laugh so hard last night she forgot to check her phone.
To the look in his eyes when he said he wanted to know everything about her.
To the question that still sat on her lips, unspoken:
Should I call him now?
10
UnknownNumber
SaturdaymorningswereJaxon’sritual. His version of church. Mowing the lawn with no shirt, earbuds in, sweat running down his spine as the world faded into the hum of blades and the rhythmic pattern of rows.
It was his reset. His therapy. His quiet before whatever storm life threw next.
By 11:00, he stepped inside, towel slung over his shoulder, grass still clinging to his calves. The cold air hit him like heaven. He opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off with one hand, and leaned over the kitchen counter.
His phone was exactly where he’d left it—face down next to the sink.
He tapped it awake. Just after eleven. Still no missed calls.
One text.
Carter:Still on for 4:00 tomorrow?
Jaxon sighed and replied:Yeah, still on.Then he tossed the phone back down and headed to the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, he came back down, hair damp, shirt clean, mind still circling the same damn thought: She hasn’t called.
He walked into the kitchen—and stopped.
The screen was glowing.
His pulse jumped. He rushed over. Please let it be her.
It wasn’t.
Carter:Sounds good man. I’ll bring the usual.
Jaxon chuckled bitterly. “Dude, your timing is trash.”
He stood there for a second longer than he wanted to. Just staring at the screen. Just feeling… dumb. Like a teenage version of himself all over again—hovering, hoping.
“Get a grip, man,” he muttered. “You don’t even know this girl.”
But then—
Ding.
He turned. Froze. Walked back to the counter and picked up his phone.
1 New Message
From: Unknown Number (470):Where are you headed?
The grin that exploded across Jaxon’s face could’ve powered a city.
Claire.
