Page 56 of Chasing The Goal
He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
I watched him walk away again—his hands shoved in his pockets, his steps slow and uncertain.
And this time, I didn’t feel abandoned.
I just felt sad. Not for me. For him. Because if he didn’t figure this out soon, he was going to miss the best thing he never saw coming.
And I was already starting to believe I’d be okay either way.
***
Thetext came in just after nine. I was already in bed, face washed, body curled around a pregnancy pillow that was starting to feel like my most reliable relationship.
Jackson
Can we talk tomorrow?
I stared at the screen for a few seconds. I didn’t roll my eyes. I didn’t sigh. I just… felt tired. Soul-deep tired.
Still, I typed back.
Mallory
I work at eleven. Meet me at the coffee bar by the arena at ten.
His reply was fast.
Jackson:
Okay. See you then.
I turned off my phone, exhaled slowly, and sank back into my pillow. Not angry. Not hopeful. Just… ready to end this chapter, whatever that meant.
—
By 9:58 the next morning, I was walking into the familiar hum of espresso machines and clinking mugs. The sky was dull and gray outside, and my coat still held a whisper of mist from the short walk over.
Jackson was already there. He hadn’t ordered food, just a black coffee he held with both hands like he needed it to warm more than his fingers. His foot tapped a slow, nervous rhythm under the table. He looked up when I approached, stood halfway, then sat again as I slid into the chair across from him.
“Hey,” he said.
His voice was careful. Not cold, but cautious. Like he didn’t want to tip whatever balance we had left.
“Hi,” I replied, setting my drink down. Decaf latte, because my OB had become a voice in my head stronger than my own cravings.
We sat in silence for a second. I watched the way his eyes flicked toward me, then away again. His fingers tapped against the cup lid. He looked like he had something rehearsed—but the lines had vanished the second I showed up.
“You’re not here to fight for this,” I said.
He winced.
“No,” he admitted, his voice low.
I nodded, letting the words settle between us like snowfall. Not loud. Not shocking. Just quietly cold.
He glanced out the window. “I thought I was. At first. I told myself I just needed more time. That maybe once I really understood what it meant, I’d feel… ready.”
I didn’t say anything. I just watched him.
