A pint-sized princess, complete with a tiara, sparkling shoes and a pink cape, comes charging in behind her mom and attaches herself to Jax’s leg. He laughs, picks her up and swings her around.

Oh my God. Jax with a kid. My insides flutter, and I have to fight to clear the images taking root in my mind: Jax with a family. With a daughter. With our daughter.

Shut the fuck up, Danielle!

If I could punch myself in the face right now, I would. I only met Jax three months ago. We’ve had two hot hookups, one of which he doesn’t even remember, and I’m sitting here in crazy-land.

He points to the plate her mom is holding. “Chloe, did you make these cookies all by yourself?”

Her mom sighs and shakes her head as Chloe giggles. “Mommy helped. But I did the fwosting.”

Blonde curls bob on her little head, and when she spots me, she kicks out of Jax’s hold and beelines over to the couch. She looks at me sideways, appraising me. “You’re pwetty. Are you Jax’s gulfwend?’

My mouth drops open, and I wish she weren’t so cute so I could toss her back into the hallway, but her mom comes to the rescue.

“Honey, not every girl you meet here is Jax’s girlfriend,” Hannah says.

Ouch. Lest I forget about the hordes of other women milling about in his life.

She turns to me. “Sorry, she’s going through this weird stage where she thinks every female is a mom or girlfriend.”

Plastering on a smile, I shrug like it’s no big deal. I wonder how many times this has happened—Hannah coming over while there’s some random girl on Jax’s couch with rumpled clothes. My heart squeezes in my chest.

While I understand what Jax told me, that he wasn’t seeing anyone, I don’t know if that means the same in his screw-everything-with-two-legs world as it does in mine. Does this mean he’s not having sex with anyone now or that he only messes around a little?

Because I get that he doesn’t do the girlfriend thing. It’s not as though those sexts have stopped coming. His stupid phone lights up every couple of hours with messages from a different girl. He ignores them all, but still.

Hannah’s eyes pass over me, a small smile tilting up her lips.

God, I can only imagine what I look like right now. I quickly run my hand over my head trying to smooth down the just-fucked hair. Not that we did the deed or even came close, but I know how my face looks when I’m worked up.

She lifts her daughter into her arms and turns back to me.

“Hi, I’m Hannah. I’ll just introduce myself since Jax is too rude to do it himself.”

I laugh softly, the kind of laugh you do when you’re trying to be casual and pretend you’re not dying, and Jax shrugs as he takes a huge bite out of a cookie. With a mouthful of food, he says, “Hannah, this is Dani. Dani, Hannah.”

Hannah snorts. “Boys.” She rolls her eyes. “I was surprised to see your cars here. I thought you were going skiing. It’s all you’ve talked about for the last month.”

Crap. I caused him to miss out on his big weekend. Maybe… but at least he’s not running around with those boobalicious girls from last weekend.

Jax swallows his bite and motions toward me. “I hit her with my car and had to take her to the hospital. She decided not to kill me, so here we are, watching scary movies.” He says it so casually that it almost sounds normal.

Hannah turns to me, gaping. Yes, apparently I’m gape-worthy.

I shake my head. “I’m his sister’s roommate. Jax and I know each other. I’m not some random girl off the street he decided to mow down.”

Yeah, I’m not a random girl who just took off her shirt and let him feel her up. I’m someone he knows. Someone his sister knows.

Oh, holy crap.

When he told me he got a concussion on his birthday, I was euphoric that he hadn’t forgotten me because he was in some alcohol-induced haze—that it was because of some freak accident—and every emotion I had worked so hard to shut off this fall came rushing back. Then that stupid movie had me crawling up his body like a damn spider monkey.

Hannah’s still staring at me. “What did he hit you with? The BMW or the Jeep?”

“BMW.” He and I say it in unison, and then I turn to him and ask, “Why do you need two cars? This is Boston. There is such a thing as public transportation.”

“Babe, the Jeep is for all things extracurricular.” He takes another bite, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about activities that involve sex, nakedness and jumbo-sized breasts. My stomach sinks a little more, but then he says, “The guys and I go camping and hiking, and I need to be able to pack shit on the roof rack, but it gets terrible mileage, so I use the BMW for driving in the city.”

Chloe claps her hands over her ears and stares at her mom, who gives Jax a look that tells me they’ve encountered this situation before.

“Sorry, Chloe,” Jax says, admonishing himself for cursing. “Here, have a cookie.”

Chloe takes the snack and pauses when it’s halfway to her mouth. “Where’s Nick? He likes my cookies too.”

I almost forgot Jax has a roommate.

“Went skiing. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Hannah’s eyebrows lift. “Not if the weather keeps up. We’re supposed to get twelve inches tonight and tomorrow. What have you been doing all day that you don’t know this?”

He looks to me, smirks, and shrugs. My cheeks burn, and if I could, I would burrow my head into a deep pit of sand.

When Hannah and Chloe leave, he saunters over and smiles. “Your shirt is inside out.” His grin widens. “And backwards.”

I look down to see the Old Navy tag.

#OMFG

How embarrassing! I can just add that to the rapidly growing list. Who cares about the list I made in August. This one is going to make Travis lose his shit. I think I’ll call it “101 Ways Dani Hart Can Die From Exposure to Jax Avery.” If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up a cautionary tale with a sign around my neck like a hobo.

I collapse on the couch, too mortified to say anything.

“Hey.” He sits next to me and tilts my chin up with his finger. “It’s pretty damn adorable. Besides, I just want to rip your clothes off again anyway.”

It only takes that one touch, and I want to stop thinking about how this could go wrong—so, so wrong—because I feel drawn to him like he’s my riptide in water that’s way too deep.

He clears his throat and his serious expression makes me sit up straighter. “What are you doing in two weeks? On the fourteenth?”

I shake my head. Haven’t a clue.

Oh. Is he asking me out on a date? Inside I do a happy dance, but I clamp my jaw to prevent a huge grin from spreading on my face. Play it cool, Danielle! “Not sure. Why? What did you have in mind?” Romance? Candlelight? Sweaty sex? God, yes!

He shrugs and spreads his hands on his thighs. “You know Daren is up for the Heisman, right?”

I study his face, the way his cheekbones slope down to those perfect lips. “Sure. Everyone in the state of Massachusetts knows.”

Jax smirks. “Okay, well, I was wondering if you’d like to come to a banquet with me. His parents are throwing this huge party to celebrate.”

Oh. Holy. Shit.

Chill. Chill.

“Yeah, I’d love to come.” I try to say it calmly, but it’s rushed, like I’m out of breath.

He grins, slightly crooked, like he’s almost embarrassed, and I wish I could pause my life and live in this moment. Jax Avery just asked me out, and I’m irrationally excited about it.

I lean over and kiss his cheek, and as I pull away, he grabs my arms, keeping me close, so close that the heat from his body radiates off him, warming me.

“I could get used to you, Dandelion,” he whispers, leaning down to brush his nose against mine in the kind of sweet gesture usually reserved for couples in love. Jesus. If this is part of his game, I’m lost, hook, line and sinker.

You should tell him. Tell him what happened on his birthday.

Swallowing, I take a deep breath, wanting to do the right thing.

He brushes his lips against mine before he pulls back. I’m filled with his clean scent, and all I can think about is how his lips feel like warm caramel when they’re pressed against my skin.

I smile, flushing under his stare, and he starts to lean in again when my mom’s ring tone, “We Can’t Stop” by Miley Cyrus, blasts from my phone.

The judgment on his face makes me frown. “Shut up. I like Miley. I don’t care if she enjoys licking hardware from Home Depot.”

He laughs and kisses me gently.

“Hold that thought.” I hold up a finger. Damn these interruptions!

Jax smiles and heads into the kitchen while I take the call.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Dani.” She sniffles. “Do you have some time to talk?”

The somberness in her voice is all it takes for my euphoria to come to a screeching halt. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, baby girl.”

The sound of her sudden sobs jolt me. Everything in my life stops. I don’t blink. I don’t take a breath. I don’t let my heart beat.

After a moment, she takes a shuddering breath. “It’s not good, honey.”

The last time she said that, she had cancer.

The last time she said that, she had both breasts removed.

The last time she said that, she almost died.

No.

No, no, no.

The silence that gapes between us feels like it might swallow me whole. I brace myself to hear what I already know. Tears well up in my eyes before she says the one thing I know will shatter my world.

“It’s back.” She cries softly into the phone. I clench my eyes shut, hoping this isn’t really happening. “I wanted to tell you when you came home for Thanksgiving, but then you had that accident. I thought maybe I could wait until Christmas, but…”

She trails off, but I know what she’s saying. She doesn’t think there’s much time.

There are no words, just a blackness that sucks me whole into the only place I’ve ever understood despair, and I sob into the phone.

She tells me she’s known for almost three months.

My mother has known all fall and hasn’t said a word.

I hiccup into the phone. “Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve come home. There’s that other treatment that one doctor thought—”

“No, honey. There’s nothing left.”

My world spins, forgetting its axis. Forgetting that my mom is a survivor. Forgetting that the little bit of fight I have in me comes from her strength. And now that’s gone. “Don’t say that. I thought you said you’d do whatever it took if it returned.”

She sighs, like the weight of this has been too much. “The operation wasn’t enough. It spread, and I don’t want to spend my last few months in a hospital. I don’t want to—”

“Stop talking like that! You’re the one who’s always telling me you’d beat it.”

I cover my face with one hand. My other one shakes as I try to keep the phone against my ear.

There’s only one thing to say now. “I’m coming home.”

“No.” Her response is immediate. “Finish the semester. We’ll see the doctor together over the holidays and figure out what to do then. Maybe I can come out to Boston in January so you can finish out your junior year.”

She’s talking about the end. She’s saying it’s close. So close that she wants to spend her last days here with me.

“Mom, I don’t want to stay. I need you. You’re all I have left. Please stop talking like this. Let me come home. I bet I can get a flight out this weekend.”

“Danielle, no. It was bad enough that you missed almost a month of school last year. I don’t want you to have to make up another semester’s worth of work just to miss a few weeks. It’s not that much time.”

Not that much time.

But when there’s nothing left, not that much time is all that matters.