Chapter 17 Jaxon
Chapter seventeen
Jaxon
I stare down at the phone, trying to comprehend what just happened. I can’t believe Izzy is taking me up on my fake-dating offer.
Also trying hard to ignore the disappointment pulsing through me at the fact that she explicitly isn’t taking me up on my secondary offer. The one that I’ve thought about…a lot since I made it.
I can’t believe that—that…shit, that was Izzy, wasn’t it?
Knowing I’m going to spiral until I have a definite answer, despite having no idea who else would be texting me about an offer, I pull up Carter’s number and hit the green button to call him.
“Everything all right?” Carter asks when he answers.
Wherever he is, it sounds fun. Lots of voices yelling something about…streaking?
“Yeah. Can I only call you about security things?” I ask. “Because if that’s the case, I’m going to fire you.”
“You threaten to fire me once a week. It doesn’t hold weight anymore.”
“It should’ve never held any weight,” I reply. “We both know that after everything last year, I’m a client for life. A lifer if you will.”
I’m not sure why I’m rambling, but the word vomit won’t stop coming.
“Anyway, what are you doing? It sounds fun. Thanks for the invite,” I continue, unable to stop the last sarcastic sentence from slipping out.
“We’re at Bryn and Jameson’s joint bachelorette and bachelor party out at Wild Bluffs Country Club. We’ve been playing a drinking game that involves drinking when someone outdrives you. I’m not that good, apparently.”
Ah, that explains the slight slurring of Carter’s words and generally peppier attitude than usual.
“It’s not fair when two of the people you’re playing against are professional golfers,” Carter continues. “But you can’t come because Izzy—”
He’s cut off abruptly.
“Hey, Jax.” Kelsey’s voice comes through my phone, sounding clear, sober, and slightly annoyed. Classic Kelsey.
“Hey. No drinking game for you tonight?” I ask.
“You don’t have to drink much if you’re actually good at the drinking game,” she says.
“You’re not playing against professionals!” Carter argues.
“Do you need something?” Kelsey asks as if her husband hadn’t spoken.
“Besides an invite when you guys do fun things?” I try to make it sound like a joke, but I am a little hurt that they’re hanging out without me.
I mean, I know I’m not friends with Bryn and Jameson, but we did hang out a little when they were in Australia for my concert.
I mean, I said hi. And Jameson and I have seen each other at a few events.
And they know I’m in town. Alone. With no one else to hang out with.
“Fix things with Izzy and maybe you can join the cool kids club,” Kelsey replies.
I rub the back of my neck, thinking about the text that could change everything. “I’m working on it.”
Neither of us says anything, letting that statement settle before Kelsey finally says, “Well, it seems like this is a social call, so I’m going to put my drunk husband back on the phone.”
“Bye, Kels,” I say as Carter comes back on the line.
“Don’t I have the best wife in the whole world?” Carter asks.
Happy drunks are the best kind. And it’s not surprising that’s the way Carter goes when he drinks.
“She’s pretty great. Still waiting for that thank-you note for setting you two up,” I say.
Carter chuckles. “We sent you an invitation to our wedding. Thought that would be good enough. Turns out, the famous Jaxon Steele is too good to come witness our nuptials.”
“No one wanted me there,” I say. “I would’ve distracted everyone from your wedding.”
I’d considered coming. I really had. But then I thought about how weird things would be with not just Izzy’s family, but all of Wild Bluffs.
I’ve felt the soul-deep pain of knowing someone resents me merely for existing, and I don’t need to knowingly jump into those situations.
Plus, my dad was still alive then, and there was no way I was going to risk running into him.
“We wanted you there,” Carter replies. “It’s why we invited you.”
“I sent a gift!” I shoot back.
“You sent us an outdoor sauna. Which is an outrageous gift. Though, I feel I must confess that we use it multiple times a week and even bought a cold plunge tub to go with it.”
“Are you talking about your goddamn sauna again, Carter?” a guy’s voice asks from somewhere behind him. “It’s not that cool.”
Carter whispers, “He’s just jealous.”
“Definitely jealous,” I agree.
Though, considering it’s likely a professional golfer giving Carter shit, he could probably get his own sauna pretty easily if he wanted one.
“So…why did you call me?” Carter asks, as if just remembering we aren’t the type of friends who chat on the phone every day.
I walk out to the backyard and sit on the bench by the fireplace. Even though it’s getting late, the sun is just setting. “I need Izzy’s number.”
“No can do,” Carter replies. “Do you know how much trouble I got into with Kelsey for telling you where she lives last week and then giving you my spot in the golf tournament? Let’s just say I had some very blue balls as a result of being a good friend.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say. “You’re a real hero.”
To his credit, Carter woke up to find me on his couch, in my clothes from the day before, desperately trying to write more of the song I’d started on the bar napkin.
I’d been up with the sun, despite the massive amounts of alcohol I’d consumed, and when Carter stumbled upon me, I was two hours in with nothing to show for it.
I was desperate.
And desperate Jaxon is very persistent.
And pre-caffeinated Carter isn’t nearly as on top of things as his post-coffee counterpart.
“Well, if that’s all,” Carter starts.
“What if I give you a number? Could you confirm if it is or is not hers?” I ask.
Carter considers it for longer than I feel is absolutely necessary, and I’m starting to think he fell asleep when he finally lets out a long sigh. “I guess. But if I get cut off again because of you, I’m going to tell Nash you’re in danger and make him sleep in your room with you.”
My close protection officer is like the human version of a golden retriever, and while I normally enjoy hanging out with him, I don’t want to share a bed with him. And I definitely don’t want him in my dad’s house.
I don’t want anyone in my dad’s house. Including me. And yet, I’m still here. Unable to go through that door. Unable to come to terms with my past.
“Deal,” I agree, then quickly read off the number from the text message earlier.
Carter makes me repeat it twice, slower each time, before saying, “All I can confirm is that it’s definitely a number I have in my phone, and it’s not not who you want it to be.”
I roll my eyes but thank him before letting him go back to the party with his wife and friends.
The air is cooler now, the last remnants of sunburnt gold giving way to navy blue. A breeze kicks up, rustling my hair as I set my phone down next to me. I exhale, long and steady, feeling the shift inside me.
I’m going to pretend to date Izzy. I’m going to fake date Isabel Harper.
And if I’m lucky, we might even become friends again. Shit, if my pounding heart and excitable hormones have anything to say about it, we might even be more than friends.
My mind drifts to last night, when, just like every night that week, I’d tried to write and failed miserably. Wild Bluffs has lost its mojo.
After sitting outside for hours gently strumming my newly delivered guitar, I’d finally given up and taken a long shower instead.
My mind had wandered, and almost as a dare to the ghost of teenage Izzy, I’d reached down, fisting myself.
But this time, instead of high school Izzy showing up with sass and funny comebacks, it’d been the adult Izzy who appeared in the shower with me.
Rather than bending her over like my body begged me to, I’d pulled her into my arms and held her there, leaning down slightly to kiss her forehead as the shower fell over us like a gentle rainstorm.
The relief I felt had been bone-deep—and it wasn’t just the release of actually being able to finish for the first time in forever. That soft kiss, it’d felt…right. Like I’d finally found solid ground after drifting for too long.
But I know my time here is finite; I’ve known that all along. My career is elsewhere, and who am I if I’m not Jaxon Steele?
Every decision I’ve made as an adult has been about chasing my dream.
It’s the one way for me to show my dad—hell, to show myself—that I’m worth something.
That I’m not just the kid who caused my mom to deteriorate.
The baby who masked her symptoms until it was too late.
But at the same time, I can’t ignore the feelings that are starting to permeate every thought.
The ones that say Izzy is more important than any award on my wall, more valuable than any of the money in my accounts.
Which makes me wonder, have I been chasing the wrong thing this whole time?