Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(57)

“All right, take care of yourself. See you Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? But—”

“You didn’t think Barry would actually give us an extra day off, do you? He only shifted them this week.”

I chortle. “Of course not. See you then.” In the lobby, I sling my duffle over my shoulder and head for the subway.

Once I’m on the train to Calloway Creek, it’s hard to contain my excitement. I can’t wait to see Jaxon. It’s strange, though, how he’s been holding back. He’s probably upset about the video. An assistant producer told me the one on YouTube had over four million views. I know if the tables were turned, I’d have been terrified for Jaxon. Still, I expected more than the smiley face response to the text I sent agreeing to a long-distance relationship. And the one-word text he sent earlier when I said I’d be coming by tonight.

Okay.

I said I was coming over and had the whole day off tomorrow to do whatever he wanted. He said okay. Is he having second thoughts about us after seeing the demands of my job?

Or…

Maybe he’s going to surprise me with candles and roses and melted chocolate, and he was trying to throw me off.

I’m going with scenario number two. Because that has me getting all kinds of naked with him.

The rest of the ride home, I study the calendar. I know his schedule well. I’ll be back in Oklahoma right after New Year’s. A warm feeling rushes through me knowing we’ll be together for the holidays. The past two years without him have been empty.

I genuinely thought the emptiness was because I hadn’t achieved my career goals. I felt like my cup was half-full. And although Louisa was the hairiest situation I’ve ever been in as a meteorologist, it’s not like I haven’t been in similar predicaments. Tornado season in Oklahoma is like months of Christmases to those of us who love weather. I’ve had to outrun an F3 on the back of a motorcycle after our van broke down thinking I’d be decapitated the entire time by flying debris. I’ve been airlifted off the top of a car during a flash flood. Once, I was stranded for thirty-six hours with my crew in three feet of snow, with two bottles of water and a granola bar between us. But through all that, even with all the adrenaline, I never felt one hundred percent fulfilled. Until last night. Hunkering down inside that building, nursing my injuries as the eye wall passed through, I knew my cup would never truly be full and my life never complete without him. I touch the bump on my head under my hairline. Either that or the dumpster lid knocked some sense into me.

“You’re the lady from the video,” a teenager says. He taps on his phone and shows something to his friend. “You are. Man, that was sick. Hey, can I get your autograph?”

“You want my autograph?”

Attention has been drawn now, and multiple people are showing interest.

A woman holds up a newspaper. There’s a picture of me just below the fold. “This is you?” she asks.

“Can I have that?” the kid asks. She hands it to him, and he holds it out to me. “Do you have a pen?”

“Yeah, sure.” I reach into my bag and retrieve one. Then I try to sign my very first autograph without shaking. By the time we get to my stop, I’ve signed five more and regaled them with the story.

I practically skip all the way to Jaxon’s. I can’t wait to tell him what happened on the train.

“Knock, knock!” I say, walking through his front door. Heisman runs around the corner, almost sliding into the wall in his enthusiasm to get to me. “Hey, buddy. Did you miss me?” I drop my bags in the foyer and crouch down to receive his wet kisses. I turn my head so he only licks the left side of my face.

When I look up, Jaxon is leaning casually against the wall wearing a pensive expression.

I offer him a sultry smile. “Hey, you.”

His eyes home in on my face, and he strides forward. “Damn, Nic. It didn’t look that bad on TV.”

“My makeup artist is amazing. Hurt like hell to remove it, though.”

He brushes my hair aside, further examining it. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It looks worse than it is. I’ll be as good as new in a few days.” I throw my arms around him. “I kind of expected to jump into your arms and be whisked away to the bedroom.” I jut out my lower lip in a pout.

He doesn’t whisk. He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile.

A nervous sigh escapes me. “What is it, Jaxon?”

“We need to talk.”

Anxiety grips me. “Okay. But in my experience, no good conversations have ever begun with those four words. Like, ever.”

“Come on.”

He leads me to the living room couch, where Heisman settles at our feet.

He’s silent for far too long.

I swallow. “You’re scaring me.”

He takes my hand. “I just don’t know where to begin.”

Oh, my god. Is he going to ask me to marry him again? Is that what this is? Him being nervous? My heart thunders. Would I? It’s too soon. It is too soon, right?

When he drops my hand and hops off the couch, pacing the floor, I know it’s not that. No man has ever paced the floor while proposing. My stomach tightens into a knot. Is he ending this? Two seconds ago I thought he might ask me to marry him, and now I’m terrified that he won’t. I could be losing him all over again. I get up, stand in front of him, and put my hands on his chest. “Jaxon?”