Page 91 of I Just Want to be Yours

This is why I didn’t want to date him. I didn’t want to turn into a paranoid mess, and that’s exactly what I’ve become. I want to trust him completely. I want to listen to him talk abouthis day without reading between the lines I’ve created with my own insecurities. This isn’t healthy—it can’t be. It can’t be right to comb through details like I’m some type of detective. But every time I try to let go of my fear, those pictures of Jackson with that girl flash in my mind like a damn neon sign. Reminding me that even when the water is calm, there will always be sharks.

I jolt when my phone starts buzzing on the desk. Seeing Jackson’s name only adds to my heightened state. My heart pounds in my chest, and I actually consider not answering for a moment. We haven’t talked on the phone since I confronted him a few days ago, and now it’s like even this is tainted. Seeing him call always made me happy—even if I was panicking a little on the inside. Now, seeing his name just feels heavy. I’ve been distant lately, and he knows it. This will be him calling me out, I’m sure of it.

Forcing a breath, I make sure to smile before answering because they say you can hear a smile in someone’s voice.

Another lie.

“Hey!” I say, sounding a little too excited.

He sounds like he’s getting comfortable somewhere. “Hey, are you busy?” His voice melts something inside of me. I missed hearing it these past few days. His voice is grounding—it always has been. Something about the deep warmness to it relaxes my nerves and quiets my mind in a way nothing else does.

“Not really.” I still scroll a little on my computer even though multitasking with Jackson on the phone is hopeless. “I was just finishing up some work.”

“You’re at the office?”

I nod even though he can’t see me. “I am. Where are you?” I hope my voice doesn’t sound accusing. Everything feels off with me lately. Just in case, I quickly add, “I know you don’t usually like to talk when you’re in the RV.”

“Margot, it’s late.”

Brushing off his concern, I say, “I’m almost done.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Do they make you stay this late?”

My stomach twists. For once, I wish he didn’t know me as well as he does. He can tell I’m running from my feelings, staying in constant motion so they can’t catch up with me. With a sigh, I slump in my chair. “They do not.”

Another beat of silence. “But you’re not home because?”

“Because . . .” I look up at the ceiling like there might be a teleprompter there to tell me what I should say. My lips twist because I can feel it happening. I can feel the emotions closing in, and there’s nowhere left for me to run. Intentional or not, Jackson has once again backed me into a corner. I cycle through all the things he might want to hear in response to that question, but none of them are the truth—not the whole truth anyway. I could say I’m working late because I miss him, but there’s more to it than that. Plus, if I know anything about Jackson, I know he wants me unfiltered. Letting out a breath, I resign and say what’s on my mind. “Because I don’t like being there lately.”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

“Not really.”

“Margot.” When he says my name again, something inside me wanes. I’m no match for him. I never have been.

I groan. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that when I’m home, I think about you more than when I’m at work.”

There’s a shuffle like he’s sitting up. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Sort of?” I grimace as I say the words. Letting my face fall into my hand, I level with him. “I just can’t get it out of my head, and I don’t know how to fix it. I feel stuck, and there’s no good outlet for everything I’m feeling.”

“I’m a good outlet.”

My chest tightens. “No, you’re not. Not for this.”

There’s another slight pause, and my heart races faster for every beat of silence. “Because I’m the problem,” he says.

It’s not a question, but I jump to answer him anyway. “No, Jackson. You’re not. I promise you’re not. I’m just . . .” I puff out my cheeks. “I’m just angry. I know it’s not your fault—not really, so all that anger just gets directed back at me.”

“What are you mad at yourself for?”

My eyes burn, and I bite the inside of my cheek to help keep the tears at bay. I feel like my list has grown too long over the past week.Falling for youis the first thing that comes to mind, but I know I can’t say that. Now isn’t the time. “I’m having trouble letting go of this, and it’s making me feel like an idiot. I knew you being on the road would mess with my head, but I was doing so well with it before this. Now it’s all I can think about, and I feel like I should have known better than to put myself in this position.”

“This position . . . as my girlfriend?”

I grimace. “Maybe.”

He sucks in air through his teeth on the other end. “Ouch.”

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