Chapter 12 Jaxon
Chapter twelve
Jaxon
I’ve got my sunglasses and baseball hat on as I walk into Wild Crusts on Friday night. Leo, the personal security officer who will be taking over for Nash tonight, is already inside, sitting at a table with the pizza he ordered ahead of time. Nash is a few steps behind me, making sure I’m safe.
I collide with someone as I pull the door open, and my body flares to life at the contact. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” Then, when I realize who is in my arms, the awareness makes sense. “Hey, Izzy. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Are you stalking me?”
“I try to avoid that word since I’ve seen the dark side of it, but to be fair to you, not no. I do bring you coffee every morning, which does require me knowing where you are between the hours of seven and eight. But in this instance, it’s just a happy coincidence.”
“Ah,” she says, detaching my hand from where it’s holding her arm with a look on her face that I can only describe as confusion. “Well, sorry for running into you. I guess I should pay more attention when I’m opening doors. But I’ll see you later. This pizza isn’t going to eat itself.”
A lump rises in my throat at the thought of her leaving. Of laughing in the good fortune fate seems to be handing me tonight. “Stay,” I say. “Eat dinner with us.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I’m…” She trails off, clearly unable to come up with a good excuse for why she can’t eat dinner with me.
“Come on, Iz. I’ll be there,” Nash says from behind me, and I consider giving the man a raise. Glad to see he’s finally on Team Izzy and Jaxon. “And Leo too. It’ll be fun.”
Izzy glances into the building as if needing to confirm Leo is there before she responds. “Alright. I suppose that would be fun,” she says, turning around and heading back inside. “I haven’t gotten to catch up with you in forever, Nash. How are things with Mikayla going?”
I watch her walk next to Nash, trying to pull my gaze from her swaying hips but finding myself unable to do so.
In a forest-green shirt and a pair of jeans, Izzy looks like she might moonlight as a model for Levi’s.
It’s not just that she’s almost six feet tall.
Izzy has grown softer in just the right spots, rounding out to a figure that’s impossible to look away from.
Nash takes the seat across from Leo, leaving me the spot with an unimpeded view of Izzy.
“Mikayla is currently on the comedian assignment,” Nash says in response to Izzy’s question. “It’s great we finally get to date now that we’re not both on Jax’s team, but it’s also tough trying to coordinate our schedules so we’re in town at the same time.”
Izzy settles into conversation with Nash, her face lighting up as he tells her about his first date with Mikayla.
Leo jumps in, both he and Izzy giving Nash grief for something or another.
I’m only half listening, choosing instead to spend the time watching Izzy.
Cataloging the changes between the woman sitting across from me and the girl I knew before.
She’s more reserved than the Izzy I knew. Her smile doesn’t stretch quite as wide, her laugh a little more subdued. But she still listens like you’re the only person in the world she wants to be talking to, and whenever there’s an awkward moment, she fills it with self-deprecating humor.
I wish I knew what caused her shine to dim just slightly, but I know I don’t deserve that knowledge. Or, even worse, maybe I already know the answer—maybe it was me. As egotistical as that sounds.
“Okay, okay,” Nash says when both pizzas are gone and there are three empty beer bottles on the table. “I will convince you that cheesecake is the superior dessert another time.”
“Impossible,” Izzy says. “Cheesecake is trash, and so is anyone who likes it.”
“Savage, Iz,” I say on a laugh, then hold my hands up when she turns a glare on me. “Izzy. I’m not disagreeing. You know I hate cheesecake.”
“Maybe you’ve developed a taste for expensive cheesecake now that you’re a big fancy superstar.”
“Never,” I promise, crossing my heart. “I’m pretty sure that summer we built a clubhouse in your backyard, you made me swear to forever hate cheesecake. I would never go back on a clubhouse promise.”
“No!” Izzy says, laughing. “I made you promise never to say eating fruit was the same as eating dessert.”
“And I never have,” I say solemnly.
“Liar,” she says. “I have adamantly avoided finding you on the internet, but I’m not a hermit. I know you dated that model…what’s her name?” She looks at Nash and Leo like they might be able to help.
“Gigi?” Nash offers helpfully.
“Yes! Gigi Svensson or something like that,” Izzy says, turning her gleeful eyes toward me. I’m not sure why she’s so excited by this line of conversation, but I can’t help but enjoy it.
“I didn’t date Gigi.”
“What?” Nash asks. “No way. It was everywhere.”
“Total PR stunt,” I admit. “I was about to tour in Scandinavia, and she was trying to launch a makeup line.”
“What about SJ Maddox?” Nash says, naming a popular actress I had one picture taken with at a benefit a few years ago.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“What about—”
I cut Nash off. “Let me make this simple. I haven’t really dated anyone seriously. So any name you’re about to pull out, the answer is no.”
“Boo,” says Izzy. “I was hoping for some juicy details.”
I reach across the table to flick the top of her hand.
“Hey!” she says, her other hand covering the spot I just hit.
“I put in a lot of effort to not have any juicy details about my life,” I say, as if that gives me an excuse to touch her.
“And how is that going for you?” Izzy asks.
I’m still thinking about it when Nash cuts in, “Hey, we’re going to step out for a minute to go over our shift change protocol real quick. Iz, do you mind hanging with Jaxon for a minute? You know the poor diva gets very upset when we leave him alone.”
Izzy sighs dramatically. “I suppose I can take one for the team.”
“You’re a literal angel,” Nash says with a wink that causes Izzy’s full face to break into a grin.
She catches me staring at her, and her eyebrows draw down into a frown. “What? Do I have pizza in my teeth?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I’m just trying to figure out why Nash gets to call you Iz and wink at you.”
The tilted look she gives me clearly says I think we both know why.
“Right,” I say on a sigh. “I am sorry, you know. If I could do things differently, well…”
This is the hard thing about my apology and my quest for forgiveness.
I am sorry. I am so sorry I hurt her. I’m sorry I ruined Izzy’s chance at some Ivy League school—though I’m so impressed with everything she’s accomplished.
Honestly, I could listen to her talk about her job and the spreadsheet she’s working on for hours.
But I also know myself. And I knew then and I know now, if I had let myself talk to Izzy, if I’d let myself respond to one of her texts or calls, I would’ve come back.
I would’ve been on the next bus back to Colorado, and yeah, I would’ve missed my chance to do the one thing that makes my life worthwhile—that eases the burden of trading my life for my mom’s.
“You’d do them exactly the same because you’d be worried about the butterfly effect, and if you responded to a text of mine, then you’d all of a sudden not be an international superstar anymore?” Izzy asks.
“Ah, so you did read my letter,” I say.
“I…haven’t.”
My gut twists at her confession. Maybe I’m not making any progress with her. “No worries. It’s always there. Unless you burned it. Then you’ll have to let me know so I can write you another one.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t burn it. It’s sitting nicely on my desk. I just haven’t decided if I want to read it or not.”
“Well, just know, while my vocabulary has expanded since high school, my grammar and punctuation usage has not.”
“If you’ve switched and are no longer Team Oxford Comma, I will never forgive you,” Izzy says vehemently.
“Never,” I gasp playfully. “I got us those matching Oxford Comma Preservation Society T-shirts—what was it, junior year?—and I stand by it. Or at least, I know how much it means to you. I even told my PR team when they first signed on that they had to use it in all my press releases.”
“At least you’re using your powers for good, not evil,” Izzy teases.
We sit in companionable silence for a few seconds before she asks, “How long do your security team’s meetings usually take? They can’t possibly have this much to talk about when you’re in Wild Bluffs, do they?”
I tilt my head from side to side, weighing how truthful I should be. “If I had to guess, they’re giving us some space to talk. Nash is probably showing Leo stupid videos he finds online.”
“Ah, well, I walked here, so I should probably get going. It’s going to be dark soon,” Izzy says as she stands.
“I could walk you home,” I say. “If you wouldn’t mind the company too much. I’m still sore from that workout on Wednesday.”
Izzy thinks about it for a second before slowly nodding. “That’d be okay, I suppose. And a lot safer for all of us than whatever other forgiveness item you have on your list.”
The sun is setting as we make our way slowly to Izzy’s house, chatting about her work and how she and Becca got started with Flatroads Consulting. It’s peaceful.
And as I stand on the steps leading up to her porch, offering her wishes for a good night, my mind searches for the word I need to describe this moment—this woman.
It’s not just that she’s smart, or funny, or kind.
It’s not just that she’s grown into a beautiful woman.
It’s that she, even when she’s still mad at me, is breathtaking. In every way.
“Hey, Izzy,” I say as she’s about to walk in the door.
“Yeah?”
“Can you please read the letter?”