Page 92 of I Just Want to be Yours

I bite my lip. “Maybe that came out wrong. See, this is why I shouldn’t share what I’m feeling. I’m not good at this. I shouldn’t have said that.”

His voice is low on the other end. “No, it’s fine. You meant it. I’m glad you said it.”

My thoughts tumble out too fast for me to stop them. “It’s just that I knew this would happen. I knew I’d start to feel like this eventually. You’re a rockstar, Jackson. You practically have whatever you want at your fingertips. I’m trying to trust you. I’m trying so hard, but I’m miserable like this. I just feel so stupid. We’re young, and maybe it was dumb to think we’d beat the odds—that we’d be different.”

“We are different.” The command in his voice shuts me up.

My eyes burn. “Are we?”

“I want us to be.”

I can feel my heartbeat drumming throughout my entire body, and I’m starting to feel nauseous. I can feel us teetering on the edge of dangerous territory, and I hate it. I hate everything about this. Pulling my knees to my chest, I sit huddled in my office chair. My voice comes out as small as I feel when I say, “Me too, but I don’t know if it’s enough.”

Jackson curses under his breath, and I lose it. He didn’t sound angry, but I think he realized my doubts, and that thought alone breaks me.

For the past week, I’ve been worried this isn’t working—terrified even. What if I never get over this? What if I never feel like I can trust him again? The logical part of my brainknowsI should trust him, but the irrational, emotional part of my brain drowns out the logic until it’s barely a whisper in the back of my mind, desperately trying to make me see reason.

The tears spill from my eyes, and all I can do is desperately try to control my breathing, so I don’t end up sobbing into the phone. How did this conversation get here? I wanted to tell him how I’m feeling. I wanted him to understand why I’ve been distant. I wanted to be honest with myself and to lighten the weight that’s been slowly crushing my chest a little more each day. I didn’t mean for this to turn into a conversation about whether we should stay together, but that’s what it feels like. It feels like I’m either prioritizing him or prioritizing me, and I don’t know when we stopped being on the same side.

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My head fallsagainst my clenched fist as I sit on the edge of the bed. I should have called her sooner. Fuck privacy. She needed me, and I let her marinate with this bullshit for too long. Lifting my head, I force my hand to open. My entire body holds too much tension. I could self-combust. Since when is us wanting to be together not enough? My brain can’t even comprehend that type of math.

“It’s enough if you let it be enough,” I finally say, and then wait with bated breath for her response.

She’s quiet, and it’s the loudest silence I’ve ever heard.

“Margot,” I say, this time my voice pleading. If she wants to end this, she needs to say it. I’m not giving her the easy way out. And I’m not giving up that easily. “I only want you.”

There’s a sniffle on the other end of the phone, and I hate that I’m not with her. Her voice is barely a whisper when she says, “I only want you, too.” I suck in a breath, finally willing to let myself breathe, but the feeling falls short when she adds, “But I can’t keep feeling like this.”

My heart plummets. She’s already made up her mind. “Because you think I cheated on you?”

“No,” she says, responding quickly. “I mean, I wasn’t there, but I don’t think you’d actually cheat on me—not to the extent of sleeping with someone, anyway.”

My eyebrows furrow. “But you think I’d do other things?”

She takes in a shaky breath and her words come out in a rush. “No. I don’t know. I just don’t think I’m cut out for this. It was okay at first, but you guys keep getting bigger—which is wonderful. But it’s like the bigger the band gets, the more fans you’ll have, and I can’t help feeling like what happened with this girl was just the beginning. It’s only going to get worse.”

I hate this. I hate that I can’t promise her another fan will never feel like they have a right to touch me. I hate that I can’t be near heranddo what I love. I hate that I don’t know how to settle her fears over the phone while I’m in fucking Texas. My hand tightens around my phone, and the words that come out of my mouth physically pain me. “I’ll do anything you want me to do, you know that. But . . .” I shake my head, the disbelief of what I’m about to say crashing down on me. “For this to work, you have to trust me. If you don’t trust me . . .” My words trail off, and I shake my head.

“I know.”

That response might gut me more than the rest of it. Because she’s not denying it, and if she doesn’t trust me, there’s no hope for any of this. Even if she thinks I won’t cheat on her, she still doesn’t trust me enough to be with me.

With a sigh, I rub my forehead to try to ease my pounding headache. It’s steadily gotten worse the longer I’ve been on the phone with her, and part of it probably stems from the strain of keeping my emotions in check. I’m on the verge of unraveling, and I can’t do that while I’m on the phone with her. I’ve never felt this many conflicting emotions.

My voice is thick when I finally settle on saying, “You’re sure this is what you want?”

She scoffs, and there’s so much sadness behind it. “No.”

“Then don’t do this. Just . . .” I rake my hand through my hair. “Just be with me. What do you need me to do?” Shit, this might be close to groveling.

She lets out a sigh, and she sounds tired. “Nothing. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t live your life with the band. I want you to jump into this with both feet. That’s important to me, okay?”

“I know.” She’s always put my music first, but right now, I don’t want to put music first. I just want her. “But I can do that and be a loyal boyfriend.”

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