Chapter 14 Jaxon
Chapter fourteen
Jaxon
I am getting closer to finishing the song for the Lupus Foundation benefit—finally.
It’s not the best thing I’ve written, but it’s better than nothing.
I would feel terrible letting down anyone, but as a long-time supporter and someone who’s been so impacted by the disease, I’m particularly close to the Lupus Foundation and their CEO, Alex Anderson.
As soon as Leo picked me up at Izzy’s, the words and melody were flowing out of me so quickly, my hand started cramping as I tried to write it all down.
Unfortunately, I realized what I’d written early in the week was mostly garbage, so I had to throw it out and start again. What I wrote last night is far better.
Though, this morning when I sat down to work on the melody, nothing came. I was stuck with the silence I’ve been in for the last eighteen months.
After throwing a bit of a fit, which may have involved screaming “Fuck!” at the top of my lungs, I decided to go for a jog.
It didn’t help.
Which is why I’m now hiding around the side of Izzy’s house, ready to spring out with my latest surprise since she wasn’t home when I got here.
“Yes, JJ Swanson.” Izzy’s voice comes from the street, and my ears perk up at the name of a guy from the class above ours in high school.
“He’s a complete dick,” Becca says. “Why would you want to go out with him?”
I recognize I should let them know I’m here. Now I really am acting like a stalker, but the truth is, I want to know the answer to Becca’s question too. JJ was an asshole in high school, and I doubt he suddenly became someone good enough for Izzy.
Not that anyone is good enough for Izzy.
“You know why, Becca.”
“I think that’s a horrible reason to go on a date with JJ. He’s a slime bag.”
“I hear you, but it’ll be okay. He’s my only option.”
How is JJ Swanson Izzy’s only option? What in the actual fuck is wrong with the men in this town if Izzy somehow believes that to be true?
Except…I’m also in this town.
And maybe I’m an option.
I cough as I walk out from behind the house, feeling ridiculous with the large, colorful bouquet of flowers and twenty-four balloons I’m holding.
Becca screams while Izzy yells, “What the fuck?!”
When they both realize it’s me, their expressions change into identical masks of irritation.
“Sorry. Meant to surprise you, not scare you,” I say.
“Let’s put any and all surprises on the veto list,” Izzy says, and I can’t help but smile.
Her long hair is pulled up into one of those bun things that sits at the top of her head, and she’s wearing running shorts and a worn Wild Bluffs High School Mustangs T-shirt I recognize from fifteen years ago.
I try to calm the swirling in my stomach that the long stretch of leg exposed by the shorts has incited.
Becca looks between us before heading toward the door, waving a hand over her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m just going to... See you later, Jaxon.”
“Soo, gone full stalker on me now, have you?” Izzy says, her eyes dancing as she looks up at me.
Things between us are starting to feel more normal, and it gives me hope that Izzy might forgive me.
“It doesn’t look good for me,” I say, still holding the balloons and flowers, despite the long strings whacking me in the face every time the wind blows.
I’m not sure what the best way to bring up the conversation I overheard is without making this whole situation worse.
Izzy almost certainly doesn’t want my opinion on anything, let alone who she should date, but also, my brain feels like it’s short-circuiting thinking about Izzy going out with someone else.
“Well,” Izzy says, reaching out to take her gifts from my hands. “Thanks for the flowers and balloons. And for the letter. It meant a lot to me. And for the surprise visit, I guess, but I’m sure you have other things you need to do like play music or work out or do famous musician th—”
“Don’t go out with JJ Swanson,” I cut in before my mind latches on to the part about her reading my letter.
Which was the worst way I could’ve approached this. You’d think all the media training I’ve done would’ve prepared me not to fling random thoughts out of my mouth.
Izzy takes a step back, the light in her eyes dimming into skepticism. “What? How did you—”
“Don’t go out with him, Iz.”
“It’s none of your business, Jaxon. And it’s Izzy to you.”
Totally. Certainly none of my business. Which is why I should just walk away. Tell her I’ll see her on Monday with her coffee. Definitely shouldn’t keep bothering her about this. Except…
“I know I don’t know him anymore, but it feels like a bad idea,” I say. “Even Becca thinks so.”
“Jaxon,” Izzy says, her tone serious. “It’s none of your business who I date.”
“He’s a shitty human being,” I say, practically begging.
“Yeah, well, for the last fifteen years, I’ve thought you were a shitty human being…and this isn’t making me feel any different.” She looks sad as she says, “I need a date, and it’s going to be JJ.”
Okay. It’s fine. I’ll just leave. I can totally salvage this if I can just get my big mouth to stop saying things without my consent—
“What if you chose me instead? Whatever you need your date for.”
A tentative smile flares at the corner of Izzy’s mouth, so I continue, “What if I helped you out? It’s not like I have anything better to do. I can be your”—my mind searches for the right word, the one that won’t scare her off—“fake boyfriend.”
Izzy’s nostrils flare slightly, any semblance of joy completely gone. For a second, I think she’s going to yell at me. But instead she backs away.
“No. That’s…” She lets out the least happy-sounding chuckle I’ve ever heard. “No.”
“Iz—”
“No, don’t ‘Iz’ me. You know what?” She throws up her hands.
“I forgive you. Okay? So, we’re good now.
Don’t feel obligated to bring me coffee or offer me pity dates in exchange for my forgiveness.
I don’t understand why it’s so important to you after all this time, but if you want me to forgive you, fine.
You’re absolved. You can go back to your life without me. ”
Fuck. No. My heart feels heavy in my chest at the thought of losing her from my life again. “That’s not what I meant.”
I don’t even know what I meant. I just…I couldn’t handle the thought of her going out with someone else.
“I may have started this as a quest to get your forgiveness, but that’s not enough for me anymore, okay, Iz?
” I say, taking another step toward her.
“Talking to you every morning feels like the first ray of light that hits the earth as the sun rises each morning. And last night? It was raindrops on the dry soil that is my life. It was the most fun I’ve had in…
a really long time. It felt like some missing part of me was falling back into place. It felt like we were friends again.”
“Yeah, it did. Which makes it hurt so much more that you’d offer to pity date me,” she says as she wraps her arms around her middle.
“It wasn’t a pity date!” I say, taking a step closer to her.
I hate that she thinks that. I’ve never once pitied Isabel Harper in my life.
She’s too smart, too funny, too kind, to ever evoke that feeling in me.
“I offered because you said it was something you needed, and as your friend, it’s something I could help with.
Why do you need a date so bad anyway?” I ask.
My heart is beating faster now, and all semblance of control snaps as Izzy’s eyes flare, her temper fully ignited.
“Because everyone in this town—and my family in particular—is desperate for me to find someone. Bryn is getting married in five weeks, and I need a date, okay?”
“Come on. You’re thirty-three. You can’t tell me you don’t have a guy or two in this town you can call who would come running at a moment’s notice,” I say, and the thought makes me angry.
I don’t know what kind of asshole could have Izzy as an option and choose not to commit to her fully, but he’s clearly an idiot.
And I should know: I was that idiot in our friendship.
“Ha.” She scoffs, and for some reason it calls forth a surge of something primal and stupid from deep inside me.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” I ask. I deserve whatever pain the answer causes me.
I take another step closer, fully in her space now.
Her chest almost brushing mine. My lips inches from hers.
“You’re telling me you don’t have some fuck buddy around here?
Some guy you visit when you need a release from a hard week?
A boy toy who would happily take you to the wedding just to have the chance to watch you fall apart on his lips, his tongue, his cock, that night? ”
Her eyes are like drills, digging their way into my soul as she laughs again.
“You’re wrong. I’ve never fallen apart on a man’s lips or tongue or cock, in fact,” Izzy says as if she just won the argument.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, the fire of the argument gone, replaced by a different burn: one that feels suspiciously like need.
“Has no man ever made you come, Iz?” The sound that comes out of my throat can only be described as a growl.
Izzy’s eyes are wide as she backs away from me, flitting her gaze from side to side. “Shit. I didn’t mean, I…that…I didn’t mean. I—”
“I think you meant every word of it,” I say, stalking after her, a wolf chasing down a scent it can’t ignore.
And, like an animal that knows it’s been seen, she freezes before turning and running into her house, the bundle of balloons trailing along behind her.
She slams the door so quickly a red balloon remains outside, floating, sad and alone, by the door.
I hear the lock click as I follow her, and I bang my fist on the door. We’re not done with this conversation. “Open up, Izzy.”
I stand there, knocking, for what feels like five minutes, my demands turning to pleading through the door, not caring if she’s on the other side or not.
She doesn’t come out. Not to rescue her balloon or me.
So finally, I say, “I meant it, Izzy. I don’t know why you need a date but pick me.
I’m your guy. I won’t let you down. The offer stands.
I don’t need an answer now. But today, tomorrow, next year.
If you ever need someone, I’m your man. And”—I consider if I should add the next part, but there’s something inside me that won’t let me walk away until I do—“if you ever need someone to help with the other thing…pick me for that too.”
***
“No luck?” Nash asks as I slink back into the passenger seat on Wednesday morning after failing to see Izzy yet again. It’s been four days since she shut that door in my face, and I’m losing my mind trying to talk to her.
“Left the coffee with Becca again,” I say on a sigh. “She said Izzy’s not coming in this week.”
Nash looks at me, his gaze making me feel even more anxious than I already do.
I’ve replayed the conversation in her front yard over and over again, and as much as I’m worried I did something to make her mad, I’m pretty sure it has less to do with me and far more to do with what she confessed about never having an orgasm with a man—or at least that’s what I think she said.
I wish I could tell her she has nothing to be embarrassed about.
Honestly, it says way more about the asshats she’s been with than it does her.
The only thing she would possibly have to be embarrassed by is if she didn’t walk out on whatever guy didn’t put one hundred and ten percent effort into getting her off.
“What happened again?” Nash asks.
I shake my head. “I think she got embarrassed by something she said, and now she’s avoiding me.
” The Izzy I knew fifteen years ago was a ruminator.
She’d replay minor awkward mistakes in her head until suddenly they were these full-blown traumatic events.
If I had to guess, that’s what’s happening again.
“But,” Nash says, looking between me and her office, “what did she say that was so embarrassing.”
“I’m obviously not going to tell you.”
Nash shifts his head from side to side. “I respect that. But what are we going to do?”
“I’m going to keep showing up. Eventually she’s going to have to come back to work, or open the door, and when she does, I’ll be there. Even if that means I have to sleep on her porch.”