Page 88 of I Just Want to be Yours

She watches me, those green eyes scrutinizing. “I don’t think you want to break up with Jackson.” Her words come out slow and careful.

Just hearing it out loud has my chest tightening. “I don’t,” I say quickly. “But I don’t like this feeling—like I shouldn’t trust him as much as I have.”

Rae frowns. “I get that.”

“I’m sorry I ditched breakfast.”

She waves off my concern. “Don’t worry about it. Are you hungry? Braden kept your pancakes on the warmer.”

“He did?”

She nods and points over her shoulder with her thumb. “Yeah, I can go get them for you if you want.”

I wipe my eyes again for good measure. “That would be great. Thank you.”

She pats my leg before getting to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Before she leaves, I stop her. “Rae?”

She turns.

“Thank you. And tell Braden thanks, too.”

She smiles softly. “I will. Try to think happy thoughts. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll try,” I say with a light laugh.

As soon as she’s gone, I let my head fall into my hands. I don’t want to let this get to me, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about his night and all the other possible nights he didn’t feel the need to tell me about.

51

jackson

It’s beena few days since Margot called, but we’ve texted. We’re back into our normal routine for the most part, but it’s almost impossible to read through her messages to know how she’s feeling. She hasn’t brought up the pictures again, and neither have I because I don’t want her to dwell on it.

Mya at least removed the tag, so our band’s social media is free of it. I guess she and Tarah ended up going their separate ways later that night. They didn’t even exchange numbers.

Completely insignificant.

Maybe Margot can see that now. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t brought it up again.

We had back-to-back shows over the weekend, and then yesterday we were on the road all day. I wanted to call her then, but there’s no privacy when we’re moving. I’ll have to wait until we pull off somewhere and have some down time where I can sit outside and try to figure out what she’s actually feeling.

Pulling out my phone, I check our messages to see where we left off. She texted me goodnight around eleven, but we haven’t talked yet today. I scroll up, skimming over our backand forth the past few days. Something feels off about it. Her responses are less playful—less . . . Margot. I can’t tell what she needs from me. Does she need me to let this go or should I make her talk about it? If I could fucking see her, I’d know. But like this? I can’t tell if she’s busy and quietly trying to move on from what happened, or if she’s dwelling on it and withdrawing in on herself.

Fuck, it’s probably the second.

My thumb hovers over the screen as I try to figure out what to say, but then Mya plops down on the couch next to me. “Did you tell Margot about the next tour?”

Dropping my phone on the couch, I rub my hand over my face before my fingers find the strings of my guitar again. I’ll have to confront her about this later. “Not yet.”

She tilts her head and gives me a funny look. Mya doesn’t know about my last conversation with Margot. All she knows is that I asked her to remove those pictures. Her reaction was to mutter something about Tarah’s ability to make something out of nothing, and then she joked about hownotkissing me apparently gave more bragging rights than feeling Mya up in the corner of the bar. “You haven’t?”

I shake my head and keep playing. I’m not sure I want to disclose my situation with Margot. If I’ve learned anything about Mya, it’s that she meddles, and her advice usually fucks with my head.

She turns sideways on the couch and rests her chin on her knees. “But aren’t you excited?”

I nod. “Very.”

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