Page 12 of Diesel’s Second Chance

"Yeah." Her voice is quiet. "I'm okay with it." June turns from the window, and in the candlelight her eyes are dark and serious. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Sure."

"And will you be honest?"

"I'll try."

She takes a breath, seems to steady herself. "Do you ever wish things were different between us?"

Chapter 4 - June

*Do you ever wish things were different between us?*

I immediately want to take it back. Swallow the words, pretend I never said them, laugh it off as the storm making me sentimental.

But I don't. I stand there by the window with candlelight flickering shadows across Jackson's face, and I wait for an answer I have no right to ask for.

His expression doesn't change. Doesn't give anything away. Just that same neutrality he's worn for seven years whenever conversations get too close to something real.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks, voice low.

My heart pounds against my ribs. I could deflect now. Could make it about friendship, about wishing we saw each other more often, about normal safe things that don't threaten to burn down everything we've built.

But the darkness makes me brave. Or stupid. Or both.

"I mean..." I take a breath, force myself to hold his gaze even though I can barely see him in the dim light. "I mean exactly what it sounds like. Do you ever wonder what we'd be if circumstances were different? If we weren't who we are, carrying what we carry?"

Jackson goes very still. The kind of still that means I've hit something, cracked through whatever wall he keeps up.

"June…"

"Because I do," I continue before I lose my nerve. "I wonder all the time. And I know I shouldn't, I know it's wrong, but I can't help it. I can't help wondering what it would be like if we were just... two people. Without all the history, grief and ghosts."

The words tumble out faster now, like a dam breaking.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "That was… I shouldn't have said that. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to Tommy's memory, I just—"

"Stop." Jackson's voice cuts through my spiral. He takes a step closer, and in the candlelight, I can see something raw in his face. "Don't apologize."

"I crossed a line."

"You didn't." Another step. We're only a few feet apart now, close enough that I can see his chest rising and falling with each breath. "Or maybe you did, but I crossed it first about twenty years ago, so you're just catching up."

My brain stutters over those words. *Twenty years ago.*

"What?"

Jackson runs a hand through his hair, lets out a rough laugh that sounds more like pain than humor. "You want honesty? Fine. Yeah, June. I wish things were different. I've wished it every single day since I figured out what I was feeling, which was long before you married Tommy, long before any of this made sense."

The floor seems to tilt under my feet. "Jackson…"

"I was in love with you at twenty-two," he continues, voice raw. "Completely gone for you, and you were dating my best friend, and there was nothing I could do about it. So, I buried it. Told myself it would go away, that I'd meet someone else, that eventually I'd stop feeling like my chest was caving in every time I saw you smile at him."

I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't process what he's saying.

"It didn't go away," Jackson says. "It got worse. And then you married him, and I stood there as best man and gave a speech about how perfect you were together, and I meant every word. Because you were perfect together. Tommy loved you the way you deserved to be loved. Completely, openly, without reservations. And I was happy for you both. I swear to God I was happy."

"Jackson…"