“What next?” I couldn’t stop the words, and hated myself for speaking them aloud.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said into my hair, a lie we were both allowed to need.
“Yeah,” I said, tracing a slow line over his ribs. “But you leave soon.”
“Not tonight,” he said, and kissed the crown of my head like a benediction. “Tonight, I’m right here.”
The night kept on, indifferent to calendars. With my cheek pressed to the heartbeat I’d memorize until it hurt, I let the last of the old fear drain out of me and chose the thing that made me brave.
The orders came down two days later.
He didn’t make a big deal out of it, just tossed the envelope onto the kitchen counter like it was any other piece of mail. But the way the whole clubhouse shifted—the looks, the silence that filled in around the noise—told me it was more than paper. It was the countdown.
Of course, the Saints weren’t about to let one of their own leave without raising hell. By sundown, the clubhouse was packed. Beer flowed, music rattled the walls, and every brother found a way to clap Jackson on the back like they could anchor him here a little longer if they hit hard enough.
Dalton threw the first punch. Not literal, though I half expected one, but verbal. “Finally,” he drawled, slinging an arm over my shoulder. “Peace and quiet. You know how long I’ve been waiting for him to get shipped out so I can breathe in this place?”
Jackson barked a laugh, snagging Dalton in a headlock as I ducked out of the way. “Peace and quiet? Brother, you wouldn’t last an hour without me to clean up your dumbass messes.”
Diego joined in, Jewel on his hip, Maria trailing after him with a casserole like the woman couldn’t arrive anywhere empty-handed. They had literally just gotten back from Montana the day before. “Don’t listen to either of them,” he said, handing Jewel off to me. “We all know I’m the one keeping this place together.”
“Sure,” Dalton muttered, straightening his shirt after Jackson let him go. “That’s why you almost set the county on fire last Christmas with that bonfire, right?”
The whole room cracked up. Even Mac cracked a grin, the soft one he reserved for rare moments. He leaned against the bar, arms crossed, watching his brothers with that steady weight of his. He didn’t say much, but when Jackson met his eyes, it was like a whole conversation happened in the space of a look. I caught Hannah sniffling when she thought no one was looking, August a steady presence at her side that, for once, she leaned on heavily.
I pretended not to watch. Pretended not to notice the way Jackson moved through the room like gravity bent toward him. I let Jewel tug my hair and teased her about how much she’d grown in one summer. “She’s practically ready for college,” I complained, kissing her chubby cheek. Jewel squealed and Maria laughed, and it was easier to focus on that than the ticking clock in my head.
But every time Jackson’s laugh cut through the noise, every time he crossed the room and brushed against me in passing, it gutted me a little more.
By the time the party wound down, the floor was sticky, the fire outside was nothing but glowing embers, and the clubhouse had thinned to the diehards and the drunks. Jackson found me in the kitchen, Jewel finally asleep in Maria’s arms, Dalton losing a card game to Diego at the table. He didn’t say a word, just jerked his chin toward the back hall.
I followed. Of course I did.
The room he pulled me into smelled like leather and cedar, quiet compared to the chaos outside. He leaned against the door once it shut, pulling me into him with an arm around my waist and running his hand through my hair. My throat was dry but I just stared into his eyes like I could memorize them.
Then he said it.
“I love you.”
Just that. No build-up. No bravado. It landed between us like a grenade, and all I could do was force myself to breathe as my pulse ricocheted in my veins. My mouth opened. Nothing came out.
He saw it. The hesitation, the fear, the ghosts I still couldn’t shake. His hand came up, cupped my cheek, thumb brushing a line under my eye. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s all right. No rush. You don’t have to say it back. I can wait for you, Malibu.”
Relief and panic tangled in my chest. I leaned into his hand anyway, closing my eyes, letting the warmth of him brand itself into memory. Because he was leaving, and I didn’t know how to hold onto him any other way.
Two mornings later, we drove to the airport. I let him drive, because him behind the wheel of Sally just felt right. One hand on the wheel and one hand on my thigh, we were quiet as we went down the highway. The radio crooned and I pretended like it was any other day.
The sky was that pale blue that didn’t belong to night or morning, the kind that made the world feel like it was holding its breath. I couldn’t go to the gate with him, no matter how badly I wanted to. So, we lingered in the drop off lane. Jackson was quiet beside me, his bag at his feet. Everything we had built this summer felt like it was threatening to dissolve under the weight of goodbye.
My chest clenched so tight I could barely breathe and before I could stop myself, I grabbed his sleeve, my voice breaking. “Promise me you’ll come home.”
He froze, eyes closing like I’d asked him to break a rule written into his bones. “Holly…”
“Promise me,” I whispered, the words scraping raw.
When he opened his eyes, they were steady and full of the love he had given me these last few weeks. He kissed my forehead, lingering there like he could leave the shape of himself pressed into my skin. “I promise.”
He held me for a few minutes as we leaned against the side of Sally. I willed myself to not cry, even as he turned to leave. He stopped before disappearing into the crowd. “Hey, Malibu?”
