Part 3My Secret Childhood Protector Returned

For the longest time, I had only ever viewed Jackson as an older brother figure.

Especially after the incident when we were kids—when he played a cruel prank on me just to get rid of me, traumatizing me so badly I developed a psychological stutter. After that, I kept my distance. Even when I ended up attending the same university he did, my boundaries remained firmly in place.

But Jackson, apparently, had other plans.

He started forcing Tyler to bring me along to their hangouts. He’d buy me iced lattes, pastries, designer bags. He’d drop them off without asking. I rejected them every single time, but his persistence was relentless.

The turning point happened at a roommate's birthday party. I had too much to drink, and Tyler, stuck at work, asked Jackson to pick me up.

When Jackson tried to grab my arm, I shoved him away. I could barely walk straight, but my instinct to keep my distance was ironclad. I stumbled toward the curb to hail a cab, but he caught my waist and pulled me flush against his chest.

He let out a heavy sigh. "You really hold a grudge, don't you, kid?"

He ruffled my hair, his tone suddenly dropping into something thick and indulgent. "Be my girlfriend, Mia. I’ll let you take your revenge on me for the rest of our lives."

The alcohol fog in my brain parted for a split second. Sensing my hesitation, Jackson cupped my face in his large, warm hands.

"You’ve rejected my gifts a hundred times," he murmured. "You can’t reject me tonight."

I was dizzy. Flustered. And, stupidly, I nodded.

After that, he was the perfect boyfriend. He sat with me through evening lectures. He stayed at the library until midnight. When I had bad cramps, he’d show up with a hot water bottle and ginger tea.

Tyler used to complain to me about it. "I swear to God, Mia, Jackson is hiding a girl. You have no idea how much he sneaks off campus lately. If I find out who it is... man, we swore we’d stay bachelors together, and he broke the pact."

Whenever Tyler said that, my heart would race. My cheeks would burn, and I’d look away.

Later those nights, I’d text Jackson, asking how we were going to break the news to Tyler.

He’d send voice memos, sounding dramatically aggrieved. “Man, I can already picture the day your brother breaks both my legs.” Then, his voice would soften into a raspy whisper. “But it’s fine. I stole his most precious treasure. It’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.”

“I am not a treasure, idiot,” I’d text back, smiling into the dark. I had felt so incredibly lucky.

And now, here I was. Watching the man who said he was willing to pay the price casually eat half-eaten fries off another woman’s plate.