53. Jackson
53
jackson
My head falls against my clenched fist as I sit on the edge of the bed. I should have called her sooner. Fuck privacy. She needed me, and I let her marinate with this bullshit for too long. Lifting my head, I force my hand to open. My entire body holds too much tension. I could self-combust. Since when is us wanting to be together not enough? My brain can’t even comprehend that type of math.
“It’s enough if you let it be enough,” I finally say, and then wait with bated breath for her response.
She’s quiet, and it’s the loudest silence I’ve ever heard.
“Margot,” I say, this time my voice pleading. If she wants to end this, she needs to say it. I’m not giving her the easy way out. And I’m not giving up that easily. “I only want you.”
There’s a sniffle on the other end of the phone, and I hate that I’m not with her. Her voice is barely a whisper when she says, “I only want you, too.” I suck in a breath, finally willing to let myself breathe, but the feeling falls short when she adds, “But I can’t keep feeling like this.”
My heart plummets. She’s already made up her mind. “Because you think I cheated on you? ”
“No,” she says, responding quickly. “I mean, I wasn’t there, but I don’t think you’d actually cheat on me—not to the extent of sleeping with someone, anyway.”
My eyebrows furrow. “But you think I’d do other things?”
She takes in a shaky breath and her words come out in a rush. “No. I don’t know. I just don’t think I’m cut out for this. It was okay at first, but you guys keep getting bigger—which is wonderful. But it’s like the bigger the band gets, the more fans you’ll have, and I can’t help feeling like what happened with this girl was just the beginning. It’s only going to get worse.”
I hate this. I hate that I can’t promise her another fan will never feel like they have a right to touch me. I hate that I can’t be near her and do what I love. I hate that I don’t know how to settle her fears over the phone while I’m in fucking Texas. My hand tightens around my phone, and the words that come out of my mouth physically pain me. “I’ll do anything you want me to do, you know that. But . . .” I shake my head, the disbelief of what I’m about to say crashing down on me. “For this to work, you have to trust me. If you don’t trust me . . .” My words trail off, and I shake my head.
“I know.”
That response might gut me more than the rest of it. Because she’s not denying it, and if she doesn’t trust me, there’s no hope for any of this. Even if she thinks I won’t cheat on her, she still doesn’t trust me enough to be with me.
With a sigh, I rub my forehead to try to ease my pounding headache. It’s steadily gotten worse the longer I’ve been on the phone with her, and part of it probably stems from the strain of keeping my emotions in check. I’m on the verge of unraveling, and I can’t do that while I’m on the phone with her. I’ve never felt this many conflicting emotions.
My voice is thick when I finally settle on saying, “You’re sure this is what you want?”
She scoffs, and there’s so much sadness behind it. “No. ”
“Then don’t do this. Just . . .” I rake my hand through my hair. “Just be with me. What do you need me to do?” Shit, this might be close to groveling.
She lets out a sigh, and she sounds tired. “Nothing. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t live your life with the band. I want you to jump into this with both feet. That’s important to me, okay?”
“I know.” She’s always put my music first, but right now, I don’t want to put music first. I just want her. “But I can do that and be a loyal boyfriend.”
She sniffs again. “Maybe you can. But I don’t think I can be the girlfriend you deserve while you do it.”
“It’s not you, it’s me,” I say dryly.
There’s a light laugh on the other end, and despite everything, the corner of my mouth lifts at the sound of it. “I guess it does sound a little like that.” After a pause, she adds, “I mean it, though. I love what we have,” she clears her throat, “or had, I guess. I just can’t keep drowning like this. I need time to figure everything out.”
“How much time?”
She sniffles again but a little laugh comes with it. “Jackson.”
“Days? Weeks?”
There’s another laugh followed by a groan. “Can you stop being so charming while we’re breaking up?” Her words stop short, and I somehow know she’s crying. She has to be if saying those words hit her as hard as hearing them just hit me.
“I’ll try,” I say quietly, surrendering to what this is.
“Thanks.” I expect her to say more, but she doesn’t, and I wonder if it’s because she’s crying too much to talk.
My knee bounces. “I feel like I’ve let you down.”
“You haven’t.” Her voice is small. “If anything, I’ve let you down. I’m so sorry, Jackson.”
I let out a breath. “I’m sorry, too. ”
There’s a quiet sob on the other end, and my eyes squeeze shut at the sound of it.
“Um . . .” She takes a moment to collect herself. “So, I guess that’s all there is to say, right? We’re breaking up?”
My jaw clenches. I don’t know what to do. There’s not enough time for me to figure out how I should approach this, and I can’t see her to read what she’s actually feeling right now. Does she want me to fight harder? Should I? Should I tell her no? Can I even do that? My head falls as my mind races. Eventually, I let out a sigh. “If you’re unhappy, and you think this will make you happier, yes.” I can’t even bring myself to say the words break up . “But Margot, this isn’t what I want.”
Her voice is thick when she says, “I know. I’m so sorry.”
We both just sit there in silence for a moment. All I can hear are her shallow breaths, and I know she’s freaking out. Fuck, I’m freaking out, but I don’t know what the fuck to do. What felt so solid a few weeks ago, somehow had cracks beneath the surface that neither of us could see. I hate it. I hate that I want to change her mind but don’t know how, and even though I know she’s made her decision, I can’t be the one to end this call because I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to hear her voice again. So, I sit, knowing this is the closest I’ll be to her for a while—maybe ever, and I can’t bring myself to end it.
She doesn’t say it right away, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as I hear, “Bye, Jackson,” I’m gutted.
“Bye, Margot.” By the time her name leaves my lips, the call has already disconnected, and I wonder if she heard me at all.
Dropping my phone from my hands, I let it fall onto the floor as I flop back on the bed. What the hell just happened? Of all the ways I thought things might go with Margot, breaking up was never one of them. The thought never even crossed my mind .
There’s no way this is it for us. It can’t be. It feels too unfinished. If she didn’t want to be with me because of me, I’d accept it. But she doesn’t want to be with me because of my job. And she doesn’t like my job because something happened to make her look at it differently.
Before those pictures with Tarah, Margot trusted me. Sure, the long distance sucked, but we were making it work. We had plans. She was excited to see me next month.
This can’t be it.
I sit up straight, and an overwhelming sense of determination starts to spread through my veins. The same one I felt when I knew I needed to get her number before I left campus. It settles deep within me, and I can’t explain how I know it, but I just know this can’t be it.
I’ll give her space. She asked for it, and she needs it. But I’m not ready to quit on her—not yet. I still need to give this a final shot, and she should know it.
Reaching down, I grab my phone from the floor and open my text thread with Margot. Just the sight of her name has my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t imagine a world where she isn’t mine. With slightly shaking hands, I text her the only thing I can think to say.
Jackson:
I’m still yours, Margot.
Completely and totally yours.