Without Jackson, my days are much different. There’s a lot of silence, work, and then… Jennifer. It’s not exactly the best situation and I start to miss my home in Los Angeles. All those parties, friends, the beach… Portland is definitely wearing on me.

The next day, I don’t do any work. I turn on the Sports Network to see the newest headlines about Jackson, since he seems to dominate the airwaves because of his handful of fights this year. I don’t know why I keep flooding my mind with more images of him. I keep telling myself, “This is your job. You have to keep yourself updated on the players you work with.”

But it’s not that simple anymore. I talked to Joseph last night and he heard me out. “Jackson is no longer your client,” he told me. “You have a week to leave your rental home and head back to LA, where you’ll resume working for your old clients.” All I could do was thank him.

I didn’t know what all that would entail. I didn’t know I would still have leftover feelings for Jackson. So when Joseph gave me the ultimatum of leaving in a week, it left me feeling shell-shocked. Today, however, I’m just numb.

On the television, he’s the talk of the sports world. A newscaster levels a serious gaze at the camera. “Is this how we want our sports stars to behave? I mean, really, folks…”

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, the newscaster stops talking to share a phone call that was recorded earlier. It’s from Jackson and it’s an explanation about the fight at the gym. I hear the words that make me pause. “…I fell in love with one beautiful girl…” and I’m taken aback. Love? Did he really just use that word?

I turn off the TV, walking out to grab the mail that was delivered earlier. I’m shocked. I don’t know how to feel. Of course, I felt similar about everything. But that fight was the last straw. I can’t keep dealing with his shit forever. He’s an adult. He should learn to channel that energy onto the field.

When I open the mailbox, I see it. It’s a handwritten letter and I can tell just by looking at it that it’s from Jackson. I rip it open, falling to the grassy lawn of my front yard. I examine the contents and feel my body grow tense. He’s never gone out of his way to do something like this before. I half-expected him to go back to his old ways.

When I read the letter, I have to force myself to read it a second time. And a third time. And a fourth…

It’s heartfelt and straight to the point. It’s probably the sincerest thing Jackson has ever written and it takes me back to the days we first reconnected. Those nights we spent together, that’s what I miss the most. The honesty. The sincerity.

“I don’t know,” I say aloud. All of the sudden, the sprinklers come on and I’m forced to run back inside.

Soaking wet, confused, and ready for some real advice, I grab my phone. There are three missed calls from Jackson. “God,” I whisper, pacing around my kitchen. “What am I going to do?”

I get the call hours later. It’s Landon, which manages to confuse me more than anything. Regardless, I answer. I need to know what’s going on.

“You there?” he asks me, right when I answer the call.

“Um, yeah. What’s going on? Don’t you hate me?” I ask him, holding my breath.

“I never hated you, Fiona,” he sighs. “I just misunderstood some things.”

“Right,” I mutter. “Okay, so why are you calling me? I don’t think we’ve talked before. What’s going on, Landon?”

“Did you turn on your TV this morning?” he asks me.

“I saw the phone call. I heard what he said,” I tell him. “So what?”

“I’m with Jackson right now. We’re on our way to meet with Coach Stern and some of the suits upstairs, if you catch my drift. I just thought you should know. We’ve put things behind us,” he says. “He figured you wouldn’t answer the phone if he called you, but he’s trying to make things right.”

I’m honestly flabbergasted by the whole thing. Jackson, taking control of his life in this way? It’s a bit different. Normally, he overreacts, sending everything around him spiraling. I’m not sure how to react to this news. Even if it is true, how can I be sure?

“There’s no way that this is true.” I find myself actually laughing at the whole thing. “Is this part of your master plan? Is this your way to fuck over Jackson?”

“I’m telling you, it’s all the truth. He’s trying his hardest,” he says.

“Let me talk to him,” I say. “Now.”

“We’re here. I’m sorry, I have to go,” he says. He hangs up the phone and I’m left hanging by a thread.

I have a week until I have to go back to LA. I thought everything was going to resume as normal. I didn’t think everything would get this topsy-turvy. Me, give Jackson a second chance? It sure as hell wasn’t in the plan.