A week after Cole and Penelope stopped by—a week after he’d all but ripped out Mollie Carrington’s heart, and his own in the process—Jackson stepped off a plane into the Houston airport. He exhaled long and slow, waiting for the sense of arrival, the sense of home.

It didn’t come.

Of course, he wasn’t here to stay, not yet. He still had to finish things up in New York. Had an apartment to sell. Wanted to give Cassidy a chance to find his replacement.

No, this trip was half house-hunting mission, half job negotiations. Not that Jackson gave a shit what he got paid. Hell, he’d pay them just to be a part of the team again. But Jerry had wanted him to come down to sign the paperwork, make everything official. So here he was. In Texas.

Again he waited.

Nope—still not the expected sense of rightness.

Shit. Penelope was right. Already he did miss his New York friends.

Pushing away the creep of doubt, Jackson began making his way through the hordes of travelers. God, he hated airports. That was all this was, he decided: annoyance with air travel. At least he could skip baggage claim; since he was here just for the weekend, he was making do with a small carry-on.

Jackson had just passed through the security gate when he saw her. He skidded to a halt, his blood running ice cold. Fury quickly followed.

Madison.

Very slowly, as though walking through mud, he made his way over to his ex-wife. She was wearing a demure white dress and knee-high brown riding boots, her hair pulled into a high ponytail.

“Hi,” she said with a shy smile.

He didn’t move. Not when she lifted on her toes to kiss his cheek, even though the familiar scent of her perfume made him want to sprint back in the other direction, TSA rules be damned.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “Don’t be obtuse. I came to meet you, obviously. Figured I could give you a ride.”

“How’d you know what flight I was coming in on?”

“Jerry told me when you were getting in. I figured it out. I hoped I wouldn’t miss you.”

“I wish you had,” he said as he continued walking toward the cab line.

“Hey!” she said, her voice sharp with surprise. “I’m the one who got you this job. The least you could do is be a tiny bit polite.”

Jackson spun around at that, and she ran into his chest. He stepped back, desperate to get away from her. “Why did you get me the job, Madison?”

She frowned. “Because you wanted it.”

He shook his head. “You haven’t done anything selfless in years. What was in it for you?”

“Nothing.” People were starting to stare, and she licked her lips nervously. “Let’s talk about this in the car.”

“I’m not getting in a car with you.”

She scoffed. “Is this because of Mollie? You’re still using my sister to get at me?”

Jackson felt a burst of fury. “Don’t.”

“She’s my sister,” Madison snapped. “I’m allowed to say her name.”

“Yeah? How’s your sister doing, Maddie? You call her lately?”

“No, and I’m not planning on it. One might say I’m a bit upset to learn she slept with my husband.”

“Ex-husband. And although I think she’s better off without you, you should call her.”

“Jackson, I really don’t want to talk about Mollie right now.”

“Why’d you get me the job?” he asked again.

“Stop,” she hissed. “You’re like a dog with a bone—”

“Tell me and I’ll let you give me a ride,” he interrupted.

She paused, studying his face.

“The truth, Maddie,” he said.

Her chin lifted. “The Housewives producers want me back. Ratings plummeted after I left, and they know I can bring viewers back in. Especially given all of the . . . stuff we’ve been through.”

“Stuff like you telling the world I cheated on you.”

She shrugged. “We both made mistakes.”

Jackson stared at her. What the hell had happened to the girl he fell in love with? Had he done this? Had he turned her into this media-seeking diva?

“I see,” he said slowly. “So you’re no longer an athlete’s wife, but being the wife of an assistant coach is close enough.”

“Well, I don’t expect us to mend things right away, but let’s be practical about this. This will get us what we both want. I can get back on the show, you can get back on the field—”

“That’s not what I want.”

The truth rolled over him a few seconds after the words were out.

He didn’t want this. It wasn’t right. None of it was right. Not the job. Not the location. And certainly not the woman. He’d left everything that was right back in New York.

“What?” The sweet façade was completely gone now, leaving her looking tired and a little mean.

He stepped forward, lowering his face closer to hers so there’d be no mistaking his meaning. “I said, that’s not what I want.”

“Of course it is,” she said. “Football’s all you ever wanted.”

He held her gaze. “No. Once I wanted you more than I wanted football.”

“Well, you didn’t do a very good job of showing it,” Madison snapped.

“I know,” he said, holding her gaze. “And I’m sorry about that.”

She blinked, clearly at a loss as to how to respond to his words. Eventually she said, “And I’m sorry about . . . everything.”

He smiled. “Good. So we’re done, then.”

She smiled back in relief. “Yes. Thank God. Now can we please go to the car? I’ve been here for over an hour, and it stinks in here, and—”

“No, you misunderstood,” he broke in quietly. “We’re done. All the way done.”

Her mouth dropped open. “But you just said—”

Jackson leaned forward and kissed her cheek, knowing that a dozen or more spectators had just captured the moment with their iPhones and not caring. He was done caring.

“Goodbye, Madison.”

She spun around as he started to walk away. “Jackson! The car’s the other way.”

He ignored her. Kept walking.

“Jackson!”

He didn’t stop. Not until he reached the ticket counter.

He waited patiently in line, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people around him. Suddenly he missed New York. Missed the anonymity and the fact that he didn’t have to be Jackson Burke there. He could just be Jackson. Or Burke. He could just be one of the guys—one of the Oxford guys. But more important—most important—he could be Mollie’s.

If she’d have him.

“Next in line,” called a harassed-looking airline employee.

Jackson stepped up to the counter as he pulled out his wallet. “Yes, I’d like a one-way ticket to New York, please.”