Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jovie
Something is wrong.
I tell myself that for the hundredth time as I sit cross-legged on the floor of my cabin with a textbook open in my lap and absolutely no idea what the words on the page say.
I’ve read the same paragraph three times.
The sun went down over an hour ago.
I slam my book closed and toss it onto the nightstand.
“Stop it,” I mutter to myself.
Friday morning. That’s the last time I saw him, and everything was normal.
Normal for us anyway.
We’d showered together, shared coffee, and kissed goodbye before we both headed out to start our day.
I saw him sporadically that afternoon as a film crew and photographer followed him, Bryce, Royce, and Shelby around the academy grounds.
Axle avoided eye contact, which wasn’t unusual with his brother and cousin around, so I didn’t think anything of it.
We have this unspoken pact of sorts. What’s happening between us is our business and no one else’s.
We’re adults.
And it’s complicated.
And it’s ours.
What is unusual is the fact that I haven’t seen him since.
At first, I didn’t think much of it.
There had been nights throughout the summer when he didn’t show up. We weren’t attached at the hip.
So, when one o’clock rolled around Friday night and there was no knock at my door, I simply left my back door unlocked and went to bed.
No big deal.
But then Saturday came and went, and I didn’t see or hear from him.
Saturday night, no Axle.
By Sunday afternoon, I finally sent a text. One text.
I stare at my phone, sitting beside me on the blanket.
Me: You okay?
His response came nearly an hour later.
Axle: I’m fine.
That’s it. His default two-word reply to every question.
The kind of response he gives when he doesn’t want to discuss it any further.
I drag both hands down my face.
Maybe he’s really fine, and I’m overthinking. Maybe he’s just busy. I mean, he missed Sunday supper at the ranch house. He wouldn’t skip that unless he had a good reason.
I spent nearly the entire meal resisting the urge to ask where he was.
But how exactly was I supposed to ask?
Hey, has anybody seen Axle? He hasn’t been sneaking into my cabin to ravage me the last two nights, and I’m worried. Anyone know why?
Yeah. That would have gone over great.
I groan and flop backward against the pillows.
My chest feels tight and uncomfortable, and I don’t understand why. Because this shouldn’t matter—Axle can do whatever the hell he wants. We’ve never defined anything, never labeled anything, and never made any promises.
We aren’t dating.
The realization causes my eyes to water.
We’re …
What are we? Friends? Friends with benefits?
I wrinkle my nose.
That sounds too cold. Too casual.
Friends with benefits don’t spend hours talking under the northern lights. Do they?
My stomach sinks. Because now, I understand why this feels so awful.
I miss him. Not in a friendly way.
In an I want to cry myself to sleep way.
Except I can’t sleep without him.
When did that happen?
I replay the summer in my mind. The gym. The lake. Blanket pallets. Queso and documentaries. The teasing. The orgasms.
Somewhere along the line, everything changed. And I didn’t even notice.
We have this unspoken agreement to keep things simple.
We’re both leaving in four weeks. I go back to school.
Back to classes. Back to clinicals. Back to my normal life.
Axle is heading to Texas to shoot his first ad campaign.
Then it’s anyone’s guess where. A different city, a different girl, week to week.
His life moves fast.
And then there’s Cabe and how he’d react.
I knew all of that from the beginning. Knew this couldn’t become anything real.
So, why does it feel like someone is squeezing my heart?
I stare at the ceiling.
Shit.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped worrying about all the reasons why we couldn’t be together and instead enjoyed it.
Maybe he sensed that I was getting too comfortable? That I expected him to show up?
And that’s why he disappeared.
I can’t even be angry with him. Axle was the one who tried to keep boundaries in place. I was the reckless one. The one who kept pushing.
What an idiot.
What made me think I could have a no-strings-attached summer fling? I’ve never actually had a fling, and I’m not really a fling type.
The tears threatening my eyes irritate me more than anything.
Because this is ridiculous. I’m not some heartbroken teenager. I’m a grown woman who knew exactly what she was getting into.
I knew Axle wasn’t offering forever. I knew this had an expiration date.
I sniffle.
The ending just arrived earlier than expected.
I curl up on the bed, pull the blanket tight around me, and give myself permission to cry. No one will ever know.
I drift somewhere between sleep and dreaming when I feel the mattress dip behind me.
For a second, I think I’m imagining it. My exhausted brain conjuring what it wants.
Then a strong arm slides around my waist.
A soft sigh escapes me as I instinctively melt backward into the familiar heat of him, and the tension that’s been wrapped around my chest for two days loosens instantly.
I don’t open my eyes. I’m too afraid that if I do, he’ll disappear.
I could be dreaming.
Right now, I don’t care.
I nestle deeper against him, my body finally relaxing.
His chest presses against my back, and his arm tightens slightly around me.
Safe. The word flits through my foggy mind.
“I missed you,” I whisper.
For a moment, there’s only silence.
Then I feel his breath against the back of my neck, and a shiver runs through me.
His lips brush the edge of my ear. “I missed you too, Doc.”
That deep voice. Rough with exhaustion.
Before I can think of anything else to say, his lips press a gentle kiss against my temple.
I smile. A sleepy, relieved smile.
He’s here.
My hand settles over his, where it’s wrapped around my waist, and his fingers lace through mine.
With his warmth surrounding me and the steady rhythm of his breathing at my back, I let out one last contented sigh.
Then I fall back to sleep in his arms.