Page 111 of I Just Want to be Yours

She scoffs and shakes her head. “Because of you.” She goes back to plucking petals. “Because even though you’re nowhere, you’re somehow everywhere.” She plucks another petal. “You’re always in my head, and it’s infuriating.” More petals. “And despite the fact that Iknowyou’re not good for me, I still love you.”

I freeze and so does she.

I couldn’t have heard her wrong. She said it. She said she loves me.

Still.

As in never stopped. As in she loved me at all in the first place. My heart feels like it might burst out of my chest. Margot Reid loves me.

Still.

Notbefore. Notused to.Notdid.

She claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide. She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean—I was just—” She curses under her breath and jumps to her feet. “I’m sorry.”

I take another step toward her. “Margot.”

Her hand extends like a stop sign. “No, Jackson. I can’t—I can’t do this.” Her eyes brim with tears, and for the first time, Isee how broken she is over this. This decision hurts her just as much as it hurts me, even though she’s the one making it.

The sight of her like this makes me pause, and it’s just enough time for her to dart into her apartment and close the door behind her. The slam of the door jolts me from whatever trance I was in, and I rush forward and bang my fist against the wood. “Margot, open the door.”

She doesn’t answer, and I curse under my breath. I can’t talk to her if she’s on the other side of the apartment. My head hits the door with a thud, but I don’t care. “Margot, please,” I say a little more quietly this time. I never thought she’d actually shut me out—not like this. This can’t be where our story ends. This can’t be what defines us. We’re better than this.

“Jackson . . . Why are you here?”

Her muffled voice is barely audible through the door, but I lift my head, hope surging through my veins. “Because I needed to see you.”

“You shouldn’t have come.” Hearing the sadness laced in her words almost makes me think maybe she’s right.

But then I remember she loves me.Still.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I needed to. I miss you. Can you please open the door?”

The door doesn’t open, but she says, “Nothing has changed. There’s no easy fix to this.”

“Sure, there is. We work on it instead of running from it.” I have no idea how to get past this, but I know the first step is not giving up. I just need her to see that. Taking a steadying breath, I try again. “Margot, you’re the first person I think of when I wake up, and you’re the last person I think of before I fall asleep. Every day. And every night. I know this is hard. I know being with me is hard, but if you feel even a fraction of that, we shouldn’t be having this conversation through a door.”

I hold my breath, afraid if I breathe, I might miss what she says.

But then the door opens. Not all the way, but it opens. After the day I’ve had, I don’t even have the energy to take a step back. I’m practically in the door frame after leaning my head against the door to talk to her.

Margot’s head tilts up to meet my stare, and I fight the urge to reach for her. Her eyes are wide and vulnerable. Her nose is a little red like she’s been crying. But it’s the way she looks at me that I notice the most. She still looks at me like she’s mine, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for anything. The way she’s looking at me gives me so much hope, and I hope I’m not wrong to have it.

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His hair is a tousled mess,his muscles are tense, and his eyes are wide—almost crazed looking. I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve never seen him anywhere close to this, and my chest aches knowing I made him this way.

“Did you mean it?”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as my eyes search his. If I tell him no, I’m lying. But if I tell him yes, I’m going to lose any last bit of ground I was trying to stand on. “It’s late. Maybe we should?—”

“Just tell me if you meant it.” The plea in his voice cracks something inside of me, and it’s like whatever has been holding me together dissolves. My shoulders drop, my knees feel weak, even my hands go limp at my sides.

If I do this—if I admit my feelings for him, it will mean we aren’t done. It will reopen a door I’ve spent the past six weeks trying to shut, and all my fears and insecurities will run rampant again. I know they’re not logical. Jackson has never done anything to hurt me. He’s never done anything to jeopardize our relationship, but fears aren’t meant to make sense. Fears are meant to make you suffer.

Ever since I found those photos, I’ve made myself suffer. I felt like I was drowning that last week of our relationship, but ever since we broke up the water has only gotten deeper. Sure, there have been small bouts of air here and there. Distractions to help me forget I’ve been treading water for so long. But the first time I’ve been able to take a deep breath is now, with him here.

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