“I’ll see you later, then,” he said. My stomach sank, disappointment tugging hard enough at my chest to make it ache as he walked out of the elevator. The doors began shutting behind him… right before a hand shot out and stopped them from closing all the way. The second they reopened, Jackson stormed back inside, cupped my face, and kissed me until my toes curled, my knees wobbled, and my head spun. “It’s not him,” he whispered against my lips. “It’s not him. Come back to me, Jamie.” And it broke my brain in half.
