Chapter 53: Broken Play: Chapter 53

Soft whispers pull me from sleep.

“Baby, wake up.”

I shift, stretching slightly beneath the warm sheets, the soreness in my body a reminder of last night. A slow smile tugs at my lips as I reach out, but instead of Jaxon’s solid warmth, my fingers brush against empty space.

I blink my eyes open to find him standing at the edge of the bed, his bare chest glowing in the faint morning light filtering in through the blinds. His sweats hang low on his hips, his hair messy, his eyes softer than I expect.

“Get dressed,” he murmurs, his voice rough from sleep. “Meet me downstairs.”

I frown, still heavy with exhaustion, still very naked. “What time is it?”

Jaxon smirks. “Early.”

I groan, rolling onto my stomach, my face pressing into his pillow. “Then why the hell am I awake?”

His chuckle is quiet as he leans down, dragging the sheets lower, his lips brushing my bare shoulder. “Trust me.”

With a deep sigh, I push myself up and watch as he backs toward the door, hands tucked in his pockets. “Don’t take too long.”

I flip him off lazily, and his laugh follows him as he disappears down the hall.

By the time I make it downstairs, dressed in leggings and one of Jaxon’s hoodies, he’s already waiting by the door, keys in hand. He grins when he sees me, reaching for my hand before pulling me outside into the cool morning air.

“What are we doing?” I ask, my voice still thick with sleep as he opens the truck door for me.

He just winks. “It’s a surprise.”

I sigh dramatically as I climb in, buckling up and pulling my sleeves over my hands for warmth. As soon as Jaxon settles into the driver’s seat, I glance at the time glowing on the dash.

5:03 AM.

“What the actual hell, Montgomery?” I groan, rubbing my hands over my face. “It’s five in the morning.”

He chuckles, shifting into drive as he pulls away from the house. “And?”

“And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a morning person.”

Jaxon smirks. “I noticed. You’re also dramatic as hell.”

I scowl at him, but he just grabs my hand, lacing our fingers and bringing them to his lips for a quick kiss before resting them on the console between us. And just like that, I melt.

“You’ll like this,” he promises, squeezing my hand.

I exhale, settling into my seat, the low hum of the radio filling the comfortable silence as the sky slowly begins to lighten.

A few minutes later, we pull into a coffee shop drive-thru, and I raise a brow.

“At least you know better than to make me do this without caffeine,” I mutter, making him laugh as he rolls down his window to place our order—two coffees, extra strong, and breakfast sandwiches.

Once we’re back on the road, I lean my head against the window, sipping my coffee and letting the warmth seep through me.

Jaxon won’t tell me where we’re going, no matter how many times I ask, but as the drive continues, as the roads begin to look more and more familiar, something deep in my chest starts to tighten.

I glance at Jaxon, at the way his fingers tap the steering wheel, his jaw relaxed as he hums along to the song playing softly through the speakers.

I know where we’re going.

My breath catches in my throat at the realization.

The beach.

He’s taking me to the beach.

We find a spot near the water’s edge, close enough to feel the occasional spray when a wave reaches farther than the others.

Jaxon pulls me down to sit beside him on the sand, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as I lean into him. The warmth of his body shields me from the morning chill, and I breathe him in—coffee mixed with his soap and hints of amber.

‘You know,’ he says after a moment, his voice barely audible over the waves, ‘I used to think endings were the only beautiful part of anything.’

I look up at him, studying the line of his jaw, the way the growing light glints in his eyes. ‘What changed?’

He looks down at me, and there’s something in his expression that makes my heart stumble. ‘You did.’

My breath catches, and for once, I don’t have a sarcastic comeback ready. I just stare at him, at the boy who somehow became everything without my permission.

‘With you,’ he continues, his fingers tracing absent patterns on my shoulder, ‘I started to realize beginnings could be just as beautiful, that starting something new didn’t have to be terrifying.’

I swallow hard, looking back at the horizon as the sun starts to peek above the water, painting the sky in streaks of gold and pink. ‘I’m still terrified,’ I admit quietly.

Jaxon’s hand finds mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles. ‘Good.’

I raise an eyebrow, giving him a look.

He smiles, and it’s soft and sure and steady. ‘It means it matters, Mads.’

The waves crash against the shore, constant and unchanging yet never quite the same. Like us. Like this thing between us that evolved from friendship to something I still don’t have the right words for.

‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ he says, studying my face like he’s trying to memorize it.

I take a deep breath, the salty air filling my lungs. ‘I’m thinking I’m not good at this. At…feelings. At letting people in.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ he teases, but there’s no judgment in his voice.

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. ‘But I’m also thinking you’re worth the effort. That this—’ I gesture between us, ‘—is worth the risk.’

The sun breaks fully over the horizon now, casting everything in golden light, making the world look brand new. Jaxon’s face is illuminated, his expression so full of hope, it makes my chest ache.

He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering on my cheek. ‘I love you, Madison Blake. I think I always have.’

The words hang between us, but they don’t feel heavy. They feel like freedom.

I lean into his palm, my heart racing. ‘I love you too,’ I whisper, the words easier to say than I expect. ‘Even when you wake me up at a very ungodly hour.’

Jaxon laughs, the sound carrying across the empty beach, and then, he’s pulling me closer, his lips finding mine in a kiss.

We’re both a little breathless when we break apart. I rest my forehead against his, our breaths mingling.

‘So,’ he murmurs, ‘are you ready?’

I know he’s asking about more than just this moment. He’s asking about tomorrow and the day after and all the days that will follow. He’s asking if I’m ready to try something real with him, to stop running, to let myself believe in something lasting.

I think about all the sunsets we’ve watched from his roof, all the endings we’ve shared. And now, this sunrise, this beginning, feels both terrifying and right.

‘Yeah,’ I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it. ‘I’m ready.’

The waves continue their endless rhythm, the sun climbs higher, and I realize some things don’t have to end to be beautiful. Some things—like the man beside me, like the feeling expanding in my chest—are beautiful because they continue. Because they grow. Because they begin again and again with each new day.

I rest my head on Jaxon’s shoulder, letting the morning wash over us.

This isn’t an ending.

It’s the start of everything.