Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
JACKSON
“I’d say that first meeting was a success,” Jackson said, lifting his glass toward Zoe. She clinked her gin and tonic against his beer, the sound soft but satisfying, and took a long sip.
There weren’t many places that made Jackson feel at ease.
Too many rooms put him on edge, causing him to watch doorways and scan for exits, even when he didn’t mean to.
But the Kettle wasn’t one of them. Maybe it was because he’d grown up here.
Maybe it was the uneven cobblestones and the smell of firewood pizza and of fried food.
Or maybe it was the steady clatter of billiards and darts, people clapping or cheering when they sank shots or hit a target.
He wasn’t the loud one in his childhood friendship group.
That had always been Madison. He hadn’t been the lively one, either.
That was Liam. He’d been the quiet kid, hanging back at the pool table, lining up a shot, or standing at the pinball machine while the lights flashed and bells rang.
Always watching. Always keeping track. Some habits never changed.
The same old cues were still here. The scarred tables still rattled with every strike of a pool cue.
Mr. Alders and Old Man Perkins still sat at the bar, nursing cheap beers and a bowl of peanuts while they argued over town politics—today it was whether the new airport hangar would raise their taxes.
The sound of their bickering blended into the low hum of conversation, steady as it had always been.
All of that grounded him. The noise, the routine, the fact that nothing inside these walls ever really shifted. Safe, he thought, in the kind of way only a dive bar in your hometown could be.
“Thank you, for today,” Zoe said quietly. She toyed with the condensation on her glass, drawing little lines with her fingertip. “For being the calm one. I’m usually good with people, but I was… such a mess.”
Jackson’s mouth tipped in a faint smile. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you from calling the mayor for a key to the city.”
Zoe playfully pushed him away, letting her hand linger on his thigh.
Her knee brushed his under the table. Neither of them moved away.
“It’s usually the other way round,” he said. “You ground me, Zoe.”
He heard her breath catch. “That sounds like a compliment.”
“It is.”
The air between them thickened. Someone at the bar cheered as a dart hit its mark, but the sound barely registered. Jackson couldn’t take his eyes off her—the curve of her mouth, the faint glow of candlelight in her eyes.
It was too much. He couldn’t do this here.
He stood abruptly, tossing some bills on the table. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get some air.”
Outside, the night was cool, the smell of rain hanging over Oak Way. They walked without talking, the hum of music fading behind them until they reached the narrow alley behind her shop, quiet and lit only by the golden spill of a lamppost.
He reached for her before reason could stop him, his hand sliding to her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. She tilted her head up.
The kiss was slow at first, tentative.
But she answered with a sigh, her fingers curling into the flannel of his shirt.
That was all it took. Jackson deepened the kiss, his mouth parting hers, hunger slipping past caution. It was like they’d picked up right where he’d left her on the dining table last week.
Her body pressed closer, and he welcomed it, his other hand finding her waist, drawing her flush against him.
The sound he made was low and guttural, a mixture of desire and surrender, as her hands slid higher, exploring the width of his shoulders. She kissed him back with the kind of reckless heat that made him forget the walls he’d tried to rebuild.
Jackson groaned against her mouth as her fingers dropped lower, dancing over his stomach and over his chest. His hands found her hips, then slid under the edge of her sweater, palms dragging upward in slow passes over bare skin.
She gasped as his thumbs grazed the sides of her ribs, then up again, catching just beneath her bra.
“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured against her throat, mouth brushing the soft spot just below her ear.
He heard her breath hitch. “You started it.”
He backed her gently until she met the wall, never breaking the kiss, hands exploring now with more urgency. He focused on the press of his thigh between hers, the way his hips aligned perfectly with hers. His fingers slipped beneath the band of her jeans, pausing there, a silent question.
Zoe’s hands slid up over his chest, over his shoulders, clutching at the back of his neck, holding him in place. His mouth was on her collarbone now, then lower, teeth grazing through the neckline of her shirt.
She was unraveling him, one kiss, one touch at a time.
“Jackson…” she whispered, her voice tight, breathless. “Wait.”
He froze instantly. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, chest rising and falling against hers.
“What are we doing?” she asked, her voice cracking around the question. Her fingers stayed curled at the back of his neck, but her body tensed beneath his. “Is this just—?” She swallowed. “Is this going somewhere or are we still just pretending it’s not real?”
The silence stretched.
She didn’t pull away. Not fully.
“I need to know,” she whispered. “Because I can’t keep getting my heart broken.”
He swallowed hard. “I know. You’re right. I need to be clearer.”
“About what?”
“That there’s no future here, any time soon.” His voice cracked. “I want you. God, I do. I can’t resist you, Zoe. But I’m not… ready. I thought I could fake it, that I could be what everyone wants me to be, but—”
“Jackson.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t step back. “I said you don’t have to be perfect. You just have to let me in.”
He shook his head, jaw tight. “You deserve someone who’s whole. I’m still so far away from there. I can’t drag you through that. I won’t.”
She swallowed hard, nodding, even as her voice came out small. “Then what are we supposed to do?”
He forced the words out. “We stick to the plan. We finish the Spring Fling, win Couple of the Year.”
Zoe stared at him, her chin trembling. “And after that?”
He hesitated. “After that, I take the time I need. Figure myself out.”
Her eyes shimmered, but she managed a sad little smile. “Then I’ll be right here. Whenever you’re ready.”
The words hit him square in the chest, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.
He reached for her hand, squeezed it once, hard, and then let go. “No more time alone,” he said quietly. “We can’t risk this getting even harder to bear.”
“Too late,” she whispered.
Jackson looked at her, really looked, and knew she was one hundred percent telling the truth. He hadn’t known what hard was until this.
“I’ll see you at the wedding, okay?” he said, trying to end the night on a good note.
“Mm-hm.” She nodded, not meeting his eyes.
With nothing left to say, Jackson turned and walked away, again. Leaving her standing there shouldn’t have felt like he was leaving his heart behind, but it did.
The only hope he could hold onto was knowing he’d see her in two days’ time. When once again, he got to pretend to be her boyfriend and hold her in his arms.
He told himself he could keep the line between them this time. That he could stand beside her and not give in.
But even as he walked away, he knew—the next time she touched him, the next time they threw caution to the wind, it would take nothing short of a miracle to pull them apart.