Woke up with a headache that had nothing to do with tequila and everything to do with unfinished business. Jake was already gone. Figured.
Running away was his signature move—might as well trademark it.
Found him in the north pasture around eight. Watched him work for thirty seconds before he spotted me and suddenly remembered urgent business in the complete opposite direction. Olympic-level avoidance.
Fine. Two could play.
Threw myself into barn work with aggressive efficiency. Tommy kept shooting me concerned looks. "You okay? You seem tense."
Tense. Right. "Peachy. Living my best life."
He didn't look convinced but was smart enough not to push.
Morning stretched into afternoon. Jake continued his masterclass in strategic avoidance. I'd head to the paddock—he'd suddenly need to check fences on the far side. I'd hit the barn—he'd be deep in conversation with Tommy about something that definitely could've waited.
We were playing the world's most dysfunctional game of reverse hide-and-seek.
And I tried to match his energy. Tried to pretend last night didn't happen. That his mouth hadn't been on my breasts. That he hadn't walked away right when it mattered most.
Except I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes I saw his face when I'd said I was a virgin. That mix of want and horror and guilt.
The marks on my neck throbbed. Physical evidence that Jake Sullivan had finally stopped running long enough to claim me. Then run anyway.
By three PM I was done. Found him in the paddock checking hooves on a mare that probably didn't need checking. His shoulders went rigid when he heard my boots.
"We need to talk about last night."
"There's nothing to talk about." Didn't look up. "We were drunk. Nothing happened."
"So these marks on my neck—" touched the bruises, "—are what, spontaneous hickeys? And my tank top you literally ripped apart just disintegrated?"
His jaw clenched. "We were drunk. People do stupid things when—"
"Forget it happened? That's your plan?"
"Stop." Finally looked up. Eyes wrecked. "Please stop."
The "please" did something to my chest. Made fury harder to maintain. "Why? Why do we have to pretend?"
"Because it was a mistake. Because we crossed lines that should never have been crossed. Because your father—"
"Fuck my father. This is about you and me and what we both want."
"I don't want—"
"Liar. You want me so much you can't think straight. You admitted it last night. So don't stand there and tell me it was nothing!"
He stared across the horse's back. War happening behind his eyes.
"It's not what you want. It's what you think—"
"Don't tell me what I want. Don't decide for me what I can handle. I wanted it last night. I still want it. Your age and my father don't scare me."
"They should." He moved around the horse. Closer. "They should scare you. Your father trusted me. Saved my life. And I'm—" His voice cracked. "He's been my best friend since we were kids. And I'm betraying that by wanting his daughter. By being so fucking gone for you I can't think about anything else."
There it was. The truth underneath all the running. "So what? You avoid me for the next month? Pretend this isn't happening?"
"I don't know." Raw. "I don't fucking know, okay? I don't know how to want you without destroying my oldest friendship. Don't know how to cross that line without hating myself."
He ran a hand through his hair. Looked absolutely wrecked.
"Your first time matters. It should be with someone who… It shouldn't be me. Drunk in a barn. As some revenge fuck."
"It wasn't revenge. It was you. Finally. After weeks of being pushed away. Like I’m not enough…"
"You're enough." Fierce interruption. "Jesus, Adison. You're more than enough. That's the problem. You're so much more than I deserve and I…" He looked at me like I was something precious and devastating. "I can't be the one who ruins you."
"What if I want to be ruined?"
"Don't." He backed up. "Don't come closer. Don't look at me like that."
Silence stretched. Heavy with everything unsaid.
"I need time," he said finally. "To figure out what this is."
"It's wanting someone. That's all. You want me. I want you. Everything else is noise."
"Everything else is twenty years of age difference. It is you leaving in a month to marry some governor's son shortly. So no, it's not noise. It's every reason this can't work."
"Or every excuse you're using to keep running."
He flinched. Direct hit.
"Maybe. Maybe I'm a coward. Maybe I'm scared of what this means. Maybe I'm terrified that if I let myself have you, I won't be able to let you go."
Jake stopped then, and his voice dropped before he continued. "That's the problem. I see you and I want things I have no right to want. See you and lose every principle I thought I had."
"I don't need safe. I need real. I need you to stop treating me like glass."
He shook his head. "This conversation isn't helping."
"Then what will help? What do you need?"
"Space. I need space to figure this out. To decide if I'm going to destroy my oldest friendship for—"
"For what? Say it."
He looked at me. Really looked. "For something that might be worth it. Or might destroy us both. I don't know which."
Well, honesty probably hurts worse than lies, I guess.
"Fine. Take your space. But don't expect me to wait forever while you decide if I'm worth the risk."
Turned to leave. Got three steps before his voice stopped me. "Adison."
I looked back, and Jake looked absolutely wrecked. Torn. Human.
"Last night—what almost happened. I don't regret stopping. But I don't regret wanting it either. That's the truth. The only truth I've got."
It wasn't enough. Wasn't resolution or promises or anything concrete. But it was honest.
"Okay," I said. "Okay."
Walked away before he could see how much it hurt. How much I wanted him to chase me. To forget guilt and loyalty and just want me more than doing the right thing.
But he didn't chase. Just let me walk away with marks on my neck and ache in my chest and zero idea what happened next.