Sienna
The rest of that evening blurred by. Mom and Dad came home, filling the house with their usual chatter about work, while Jaxon and I sat on opposite ends of the couch pretending to watch TV. Only we knew the truth—the heat between us had been cut short by my cramps, leaving something unsaid and unfinished.
But if Jaxon was frustrated, he didn’t show it.
All week, he became something else entirely. A caretaker.
Every morning, he checked in before school. “You good?” he’d ask, his voice softer than usual, his hand brushing my shoulder like he was afraid I might break.
At lunch, he’d slide his juice toward me. “You need this more.”
After classes, he’d carry my bag, pretending it wasn’t heavy when I knew it was.
At home, he’d hover while I studied. Sometimes he’d make me tea, som
