I nod, pursing my lips together to stop their trembling.
“Iz.” His chestnut eyes are pleading, his disheveled hair a clear sign of his distress.
Sniffling, I say, “I’m sad you can’t come to the wedding with me, but it’s not your fault. We’re both grownups. I understand how important your job is to you, Jaxon.”
“You’revery important to me too, Izzy.”
I just nod, biting my cheek to keep any more tears from falling while he’s here. I know it’s okay to be sad, but I also know Jaxon feels bad. I don’t need to make him feel worse.
It will be fine.Totally fine.
“I’m coming back, Iz. I promise. I’m coming back for you,” Jaxon says, the pain in his voice clear, even behind the confidence he’s trying to exude.
Maybe. But promises are often just prettier versions of goodbyes.
I stare at him, my arms wrapped around my waist, unable to comfort him. Unable to get out of my head enough to say anything.
“I…I have to go,” he says, as if that encompasses everything. And maybe it does.
“I know.”
It’s like we’re a broken record, neither of us able to say anything worthwhile.
He needs me to believe he’s coming back.
I want to, but am not sure I can until I see it with my own eyes.
Jaxon’s phone vibrates, and he looks at the screen before meeting my eyes again.
“I’m so sorry, Izzy.”
I shake my head. “Not your fault.”
“Jaxon!” Nash calls from where he’s sitting in the driver’s seat. “We’ve got to go now!” He shoots me a sympathetic look, as if he knows exactly what’s going on out here.
“You’d better go,” I say. “Good luck, okay?”
Finally, with one last “I’m coming back,” Jaxon walks away, his eyes still glued to mine, even as he leaves.
I watch him with a forceful smile plastered on my face.
He hesitates at his car, turning back to me, his eyes pleading. And I can’t help the stupid, stubborn hope that bubbles up. Hopethat maybe, he’ll stay. Or at least ask me to go with him. Even if we both know I can’t.
Jaxon’s large shoulders rise one time, as if he’s taking a deep breath, and when he breaks eye contact to climb into the passenger’s seat, I finally let the tears fall hard and fast.
“Are you okay?” Becca asks as I walk into the house, her eyebrows pulled together in concern.
I shake my head but keep moving toward my room. Not bothering to take my clothes off, I climb under my covers, pulling them up to my chin.
I let myself cry. Not the silent, polite kind of tears but the ugly, hiccupping kind that leave my eyes sore and my chest hollow. Every ounce of hurt that Jaxon stirred up by leaving again crashes over me, and for a while, I just let it. I let myself break.
But eventually the sobs ease, my heartbeat steadies, and I’m left with nothing but the echo of my own breathing. And in the quiet, the same thought that has been echoing in my mind since I first started hanging out with Jaxon floats back in.
What if he doesn’t come back?
The idea feels like a punch, but I force myself to sit with it. To imagine it. To picture a life without him. And slowly, I realize something.
If Jaxon walks away for good, I’ll still be here. I’ll still have friends who show up with drinks and takeout when I’ve had a hard day. I’ll still have a family who teases me but never doubts that I belong. I’ll still have a job that challenges me and a career I built with my best friend.
