Chapter 4
four
. . .
jett
I saw her step back in time, and it nearly knocked the wind out of me.
It’s not like I forgot the night we met—I never could. She hit the ice trying to show off, and the whole town laughed. Except me.
I remember thinking she was too good for this place. Too good for me. But I couldn’t leave her sitting there, red-faced and alone. So, I helped her up, cracked a joke, and—somehow—asked her out.
And she said yes.
I still don’t know how I got that lucky.
Those weeks with her started what would be the four best years of my life. Just talking, laughing, being around her. I would’ve given anything to stay in that moment forever.
And now, here she is again. All these years later, and I still feel like that kid—awestruck and completely, hopelessly in love.
“Earth to Jett!” she barks.
Oh, she is mad. I know because the tip of her nose is red. I swear the girl turns into Rudolph when she’s ticked.
It’s adorable.
She stops pounding on my chest, and we’re staring at each other. Her eyebrows smooth out, and her nose returns to its normal olive shade.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
The apology wasn’t supposed to come out already. Vivi and I have a plan, but it just pops out. I did hurt her. I was stupid. I’m beyond sorry.
If I could do it all over again, I would have spent the last fifteen years with her and loving her. Making the life I wanted and not the one that I forced on myself.
I did the stupidest, most horrible thing I could have done. All because I was full of pride. I didn’t want to tell anyone my problems.
I wanted to be Jett Monroe, the normal high school kid. Not Jett Monroe, the kid with the alcoholic father. The kid with a dad who couldn’t keep a job. The kid who had to work to keep the mortgage paid.
“You deserved better.”
I don’t even think. My hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing her skin like I’ve got a right to. My heart hits triple speed. My brain short circuits or something because before I can even register what my body is doing, I’m leaning in for a kiss.
Apparently, her brain is still working just fine because she leans back to dodge me.
The next thing I know, I’m flailing. Arms circling like I’m a helicopter. I do the most logical thing to keep myself from falling into the pond.
I grab her.
It’s a stragedy.
You know, a strategy that ends in tragedy.
Instead of keeping myself out of the pond, I’ve now doomed us both.
She already wants to kill me. Now she might do it with her bare hands.