Page 179 of Last First Kiss

“No, you can’t,” she says with a smirk. Her face turns serious, sincere. “Maybe it’s time you start listening to yourself.”

Jordan’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

“You told me others shouldn’t decide what our love story looks like,” she reminds him, as if he needed it. “This isn’t what you want your love story to look like, is it?”

He bites hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from frowning. “No.”

“Jamie’s used to people telling him what he is and isn’t,” she says sadly. “What he should change. What they want from him.”

She pauses. It’s heavy. As if she’s never been able to tell this to anyone, but now she has Jordan.

Now shetrustsJordan.

“No one ever tells him that theywanthim,” she finishes. “As he is.”

She stares right into his eyes, making sure he takes in everything.

He does, wholeheartedly.

“Tell him.” Her expression brightens. She’s back to the woman he met on that first day in the office. “Start there.”

Amy doesn’t wait for him to speak. Or nod. She doesn’t need him to make a promise. She knows—they both know—he already has. Just by listening.

When she’s gone, Jordan sits there for seconds. Minutes. He loses count.

It starts quietly behind his ribs. The ache. The pain. He wants to turn it off. Bury himself in work and to-do lists and intensely detailed plans that leave no room for this.

But that won’t solve anything.

Avoiding has never ever worked before.

So he sucks in a sharp breath. He lets the feeling grow until it’s loud. Until his cheeks are wet, and his throat is raw.

Jordan never cried over Yazzie. Even after it ended, he knew they’d stay friends. She would always be a part of his life.

He cries over Jamie. Head-in-his-handsweepingover him. Because he’s afraid of losing him. It’s the last thing he wants. When they were in college, on separate coasts. When Jamie ended things the first time, claiming he wasn’t right for Jordan.

When they were at the engagement dinner and Jamie said they needed space and walked away from Jordan.

He’s afraid losing Jamie will be more than just space and temporary silence and Jordan pretending he doesn’t miss Jamie. He’s afraid, one day, it’ll be permanent.

Tell him, Amy says in his head.Start there.

It sounds so easy. So unnervingly simple. But nothing about what Jordan’s ever felt for Jamie has been simple, has it?

But why can’t it be?

He’s spent most of his life allowing the world to dictate his value. A missing dad to determine his worth. A certain kind of love story to control what he thinks his own should look like.

Fuck that. Fuck all of it.

He’s Jordan fucking Carter. No, he’sJordan. No fancy last names, strict labels, checkbox definitions necessary.

He doesn’t give up. He’s a state-champion basketball player. AMario Kartwizard. A goddamn excellent event coordinator. He doesn’t walk away until the last buzzer goes off and the stands are empty and someonedragshim off the court.

Jordan doesn’t lose.

He doesn’t let someone else decide when he’s lost either.