Chapter 26
MAYA
Jackson's text comes through while I'm helping Emma fold baby clothes—tiny onesies and socks that seem impossibly small for an actual human.
Jackson
Can you come down here?
"Everything okay?" Emma asks, noticing me staring at my phone.
"Yeah. Jackson needs help with something."
"Tell him I said he's banned from doing his own laundry after last week's incident."
"What incident?"
“He turned all his practice jerseys pink and had to get new ones.”
I head downstairs, confused and worried. Jackson doesn't usually text during the day.
His door is open, and he's sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing jeans and a Wolves hoodie. There's a small box on the bed beside him.
"Hey," I say. "What's up?"
He looks nervous, actually nervous. I've seen Jackson face down opponents twice his size without flinching, but right now he looks terrified.
"Close the door," he says.
I do. "Jackson, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I just..." He picks up the box. "I need to give you something."
My stomach flips. "Okay."
"Come here."
I cross the room and sit beside him on the bed. He's holding the box like it might explode, like whatever's inside has the power to change everything.
"This is harder than I thought it was going to be," he says.
"Whatever it is, just say it."
He takes a breath and opens the box. Inside is the silver pendant: the wolf he's worn around his neck every day since I've known him.
"Jackson—"
"Let me finish. Please." He pulls the pendant from the box, the chain catching the light.
"This was my father's, the only thing I have left of him besides some photos and memories.
He gave it to my mom when they got engaged.
It's been passed down through generations.
His grandfather had it, then his father, then him. "
I'm frozen to the spot. I can't move, can't breathe.
"When my dad died, Mom kept it for years. Then, when I turned twenty-one, she gave it to me. Said Dad would want me to have it, said it's supposed to go to the person you love most in your life."
My eyes are burning. "Jackson—"
"I love you, Maya." The words come out rushed, like he's been holding them back so long they can't stay contained.
"I'm done pretending I don't. I've been in love with you for so fucking long, eight years of wanting you, of loving you, of thinking I couldn't have you.
And now that I do, now that we're together, I need you to know.
I need to say the actual words because we've never said them before, not out loud, not like this.
I love you. Completely. Desperately. Forever. "
Tears are streaming down my face.
He stands, pulling me up with him. "I love you. And this..." He holds up the pendant. "This belongs to you, has belonged to you for a while now. I just needed to find the right way to give it to you."
"Jackson, I can't take your father's pendant."
"Yes, you can. Because you're the person I love most, you're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You're everything, Stardust."
He steps behind me and drapes the chain around my neck. His fingers work the clasp, and then the pendant settles against my skin.
I turn to face him. "I love you. God, I love you so much. I've been holding it back, terrified to say it because once I did it would be real."
"It's already real." He cups my face, thumbs wiping away tears. "It's been real since the beginning; we just needed to catch up to it."
"I love you," I say again, testing the words. They feel right, perfect, like something I should have been saying all along. "I love you, Jackson Anderson."
"I love you, Maya Rivera."
He kisses me, not desperate or hungry like usual, but soft and reverent, like he's sealing something between us that can never be broken.
When we break apart, I touch the pendant, my fingers tracing the worn silver wolf. "Your mom gave this to you to pass on."
"Yeah."
"What if she doesn't approve of us? What if she thinks—"
"She loves you." He covers my hand with his, pressing the pendant against my chest. "And even if she didn't approve, it wouldn't matter. This is my choice. And I choose you."
The tears won't stop.
"Emma can't see this," I say. "Not yet. If she sees me wearing your father's pendant, she'll know."
His jaw tightens. "I know."
"We have to tell her. Soon. We can't keep hiding this."
"Before the playoffs start. Four weeks." He meets my eyes. "We tell her before everything gets crazy."
Four weeks. The timeline feels both too soon and not soon enough. "You promise?"
"I promise. Four weeks and everyone knows." He tucks the pendant under my shirt, his fingers gentle against my skin. "But you're wearing it now. Even if she can't see it, you're wearing it. That's what matters."
I press my hand over the pendant, feeling the outline through my shirt. "This means forever, doesn't it? That's what you're saying."
"That's exactly what I'm saying." He pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. "I want forever with you, Maya. Marriage, kids, growing old together, all of it."
"We haven't even been together that long—"
"I've been in love with you for years. That's long enough to know."
I bury my face in his chest and just breathe him in. He smells like soap and that specific Jackson scent I've memorized.
"I love you," I whisper against his hoodie.
"I love you too."
We stand here, just holding each other. No urgency, no rush, just this: two people who finally said the words they've been feeling for years, who finally made it real.
Eventually, I pull back. "I should go back upstairs before Emma gets suspicious."
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. "Four weeks."
"Four weeks," I repeat.
At the door, I pause with my hand on the handle and look back at him. He's still standing there, watching me with that expression that makes my chest ache—the one that says everything without saying anything at all.
"Thank you," I say. "For the pendant. For all of it."
"Always."
I slip out and head upstairs, my fingers finding the pendant through my shirt. It sits right over my heart, hidden but present.
Emma's still in the nursery when I find her, hanging tiny clothes in the closet.
"Everything okay?" she asks. "You were gone for a while."
"Yeah. Jackson just needed advice about something."
"About what?"
"Guy stuff. Don't worry about it."
She gives me a look but doesn't push. "Can you hand me those bibs?"
I help her organize while the pendant burns against my skin. Every time I move, I feel it shift, a constant reminder of what we just said to each other, of the promises we made without Emma knowing. Without anyone knowing.
I'm his, and he's mine, and in just four weeks, everyone will know it.