Page 12 of I Just Want to be Yours

Because I need us to be okay.

Margot’s smile slips, some of that insecurity seeping in through the cracks. “You’re not worried?”

Setting down my plate, I reach for her. “Come here.”

“No, it’s okay. Eat. You’re hungry.”

“You’re more important.”

Her eyes lock on mine, and she takes a step before letting me pull her to me the rest of the way. She wraps her arms around my waist and presses her head against my chest. I hope she’s not about to cry. Resting my chin on top of her head, I squeeze her to me. “You’re more important than all of it, Margot. I’m not going to fuck this up.”

She pulls back to look at me, and I’m relieved her eyes are dry. “Thanks,” she says with a soft smile. Pointing to my plate on the counter, she adds, “Now eat.”

A low chuckle rumbles from my chest as I take my plate and do as she says.

8

margot

Matt and Raestand in the doorway of Matt’s apartment like proud parents while Jackson hugs them goodbye. I watch from the outdoor hallway, patiently waiting, and I can’t believe the moment is already here.

Unless I go visit him while he’s on tour, the next time I see him will beDecember.I don’t think my brain can fully comprehend how many nights I’ll suddenly be spending alone.

When he came home in May, it felt like we had all the time in the world. It felt silly to talk about when he would inevitably leave again. August was far away, and we were happy. But now that the moment is here, I can’t help feeling like we’re unprepared—like we should have created some sort of well thought out action plan for our relationship.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Jackson says with another wave at Matt and Rae before he puts his arm around me. I smile at the contact and hope he can’t see the cracks forming behind it.

Neither of us says anything as we walk to his car in the parking lot. His stuff is already packed, and all that’s left is the backpack he has slung over his shoulder. My heart drums inmy chest, and my feet feel heavy with each step. How did we get here? How is it already time to say goodbye?

I thought I’d be ready—more confident—more . . .something.

But all I can think about is how his new beginning feels like our ending. Jackson deserves to give music his full attention. He’s one of the most talented people I’ve ever known, and as much as I want to keep him to myself, it would be selfish to even ask. I’d snuff out the flame that burns inside of him, and I’d never forgive myself if that happened.

“Margot,” Jackson says, giving my shoulders a squeeze.

“Hmm?” Registering the concerned look on his face, I’m going to assume it’s not the first time he’s tried to get my attention. “Sorry,” I add, heat flaring in my cheeks.

I need to keep it together, just a little longer. Once he leaves, I can fall apart if I need to, but I can’t let him see.

“Are you sure you have everything?” I don’t know what else to say.

He lets go of me to put his backpack in the front seat, and despite the brutal August heat, I suddenly feel cold. “I think so.”

“And Dave doesn’t mind you leaving your car at his house?”

Jackson shakes his head. “Nope. That’s what all the guys are doing.”

“Okay,” I say, racking my brain for another follow up question.

Once he closes the car door, he turns to face me, and how good he looks shouldn’t be devastating, but it is. Because I’m going to miss every detail. I’m going to miss the way his hair always looks a little messy in the best way. I’m going to miss the spark of mischief behind those storm-like eyes. I’m going to miss the way his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip beforehe kisses me. I’m going to miss the way he makes me laugh, and blush, and feel so incredibly happy.

“Did you figure out your schedule for the fall semester?”

I blink and suck in a breath, bringing myself back to the present. With a nod, I let a faint smile come to my lips. I’m glad I’m not the only one delaying this situation with random questions. “Yeah. I’ll take classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and my internship is on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Busy week.”

I force a laugh. “Well, there isn’t much else I’ll be doing.” Immediately regretting what I’ve said, I fight the urge to grimace. If that doesn’t scream pathetic, I don’t know what does.

---