I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)(83)

She put her hands on his chest, shoving him backward. “Please don’t mess with me. Please. Just talk to me.”

Jackson’s eyes shadowed with regret as he slowly released her wrist, lifting a hand to her face. The back of his fingers stroked her cheek softly. “Talk to you?”

She nodded.

“What shall I talk about?” he whispered.

“How about the fact that you’re supposed to be in Houston right now? It’s the only reason I came over.”

“I was in Houston,” he said.

“For what, an hour?” she asked.

“Probably about that, yeah.” He was watching her mouth as his thumb brushed softly over her lips.

Her breath caught at the tenderness in his touch—in his eyes.

“What happened?”

His eyes flicked up to hers. “You want the full story, or the important part?”

“The important part,” she whispered.

“I love you.”

The words were so quiet, so matter-of-fact, so shocking, that Mollie couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

“What?”

He slid his other arm around her waist. “You heard me.”

“I heard you, but what—”

He kissed her again, and this time it was hard. Maybe a little desperate. “Tell me I didn’t screw it up,” he said when he pulled back. “Tell me you still love me. That I still have a chance. That you don’t hate me for being the biggest idiot on the planet.”

When she didn’t answer, he murmured, “Mollie?” His eyes were pleading.

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered. “But I don’t understand. What about the job? I can’t move to Texas, and you can’t coach from here.”

“I told Jerry I don’t want it.”

She stared at him. “But Jackson, you do want it. You hate New York. And you’re a quarterback—”

“Was a quarterback. Now I’m a fitness editor for Oxford magazine,” he said with a wink.

“What if you change your mind? Or what if—”

“I might change my mind about the job. Someday. Maybe I’ll realize I want to do something besides journalism. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll take over Cassidy’s job someday. Maybe I’ll become an accountant or a barista. Hell, I don’t know, Mollie. I don’t know any of that. But I do know what isn’t changing anytime soon, and that’s how I feel about you.”

She opened her mouth, but he shook his head, talking faster now. “I messed up. I get that. I was clinging so f*cking hard to what I thought I wanted that I didn’t give myself a chance to realize that what I wanted had changed. That I’d rather be a kick-ass journalist than a wannabe quarterback. That I’d rather be an awkward New Yorker than a comfortable Texan. Hell, one of these days I’ll even be able to wear a suit without feeling like I’m choking.”

She swallowed. “Wait, so you’re…I’m confused.”

He set both palms gently on her face. “You want me to talk your language? You’re my worm, Mollie. The creepy, mate-for-life variety. I’m here to stay, Mollie. Because of you. You, who’s always been there. And no, my romantic feelings for you don’t have the long roots that yours do for me, but that doesn’t make them any less intense. And they are intense, Mollie.”

Neither one of them spoke for a while, and his eyes slowly became wary. At last he said, “Mollie, is this…am I way off base here? Did your feelings change?”

She laughed softly. “Jackson, if I could change my feelings, I would have done it a long time ago. Say, like when you were married to my sister.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Is that what’s holding you back? You feel like you’re betraying Maddie?”

“It’s just that this is complicated. I don’t even know what it would be like.”

“So we’ll figure it out,” he said, pushing her hair back. “We’ll figure it out one day at a time. We’ll take it slow, and—”

“Take it slow?” she interrupted. “Jackson, you’re moving my clothes into your closet.”

“Okay, so we won’t take it that slow.”

She started to step back, but he didn’t let her. “Mollie, I know you’re scared to death. I know you’re worried about your sister. I’m half terrified myself. But we can do this. I want to do this. I want this more than I’ve wanted anything.”

“More than football?” she teased.

To her surprise, he didn’t smile back. He merely stared down at her with a stunned expression. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I want you more than football. I love you more than that too.”

It wasn’t much of a line. But it was the exact line Mollie needed to throw herself into his arms and kiss him. Frantic, happy kisses mingled with giddy laughs.

“I need the words, woman,” he said with a laugh as he tried to dodge her mouth.

“What words?” She went in for another kiss.

He gently tugged her hair, holding her still before their mouths could touch. “You know.”

Mollie smiled up at him. “Do I?”

“Mollie.” The pleading in his voice nearly undid her.