You were unlike anyone Jackson had ever dated. Growing up as a ranch hand on his family’s land, he was used to Southern hospitality and the same type of girls that came with it.

Until you showed up.

Your parents had bought a home out in the countryside to settle into retirement, far from the chaos of the city. And the moment Jackson saw you walking the halls on your first day of junior year—standing out like a sore thumb in your short skirt and frilly designer bag—he was hooked.

You were quick-witted. Straightforward. High-maintenance. Difficult. A challenge in every possible way. Everything about you that pulled him in was also everything that drove him absolutely insane.

Dating you throughout junior year and into your senior year had been nothing short of an experience. You were passionate. Jealous. Fiery. The two of you could go from flirting to arguing and straight back again in under five minutes. Jackson hated how much he absolutely loved it.

He was whipped. Completely and totally.

And today? You were pissed at him again—and he had no idea why.

He felt it the moment you climbed into his truck after school. You didn’t sing along to a single song on the drive back to your place—something you always did.

His suspicion grew when he stopped at the gas station and bought your favorite snacks. Usually that earned him a kiss—at the very least a smile. Today? Nothing. Not even a thank you. Just silence.

What Jackson didn’t know was that while you were on his phone, queuing up songs that morning on the way to school, you saw a text from Leah—the girl he’d been casually seeing before you.

“Thanks for coming over yesterday ;)”

Yesterday, Jackson had told you his family was invited to dinner at a family friend’s house. What he failed to mention was that the “friend” was actually his ex.

The fact that he hid it from you pissed you off.

He did everything he could to coax a smile out of you. He even asked what time he should pick you up for the bonfire kickback his buddy was hosting tonight—despite you already telling him the time that morning. But you ignored him. You just stared out the window, arms crossed, jaw locked tight.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. With a heavy exhale, he eased the truck off the road and turned to face you.

“Angel…” he said softly, laying the Southern charm on thick. “Honey, are you mad at me or somethin’?”