Page 122 of The Toy Maker

“Are you okay?” His voice was tired, strained.

“I’ve had better days.” My lips twisted into something resembling a smirk, but it fell away just as quickly. Any day where I wasn’t strangled and betrayed was automatically better than this one.

Jason looked down at his lap. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. His words, spoken so quietly and sincerely, doused some of the fire burning in my veins.

“For what?”

I needed to hear it. I needed to know exactly what he regretted. The fuck-and-flight? The public humiliation? The secrets he’d kept?

But he didn’t answer. His hands were still smeared with Sam’s dried blood, and his knuckles were raw. I could see where he’d tried to scrape it off, but the stains remained.

“Jason?” I pressed.

And then, before I could react, he was on me.

He crushed me into his embrace, so sudden, so firm, that it knocked the breath from my lungs. His scent—cologne, sweat, everything distinctly him—wrapped around me like a drug, and I fought the urge to melt into him, to stay there forever.

His hands were shaking. One cradled the back of my head, the other pressed flat against my spine like he was trying to make sure I was real.

Like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart.

But it wasn’t enough. None of it erased what had happened.

I pulled away.

Jason’s face fell, just for a second, before he slammed the walls back up. He turned and moved to his desk, flipping through a stack of papers as if nothing had happened.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“To see Kitty.” My voice was soft.

He kept his back to me. “And how’d that go?”

I shifted where I stood. “Could’ve gone better.”That’s the understatement of the year.

Jason nodded absently, still pretending to focus on the paperwork in front of him.

I watched him, the words climbing up my throat before I could stop them. “I think she’s in love with you.”

The statement landed between us like a bomb.

“She’s not,” Jason sighed, still refusing to look at me.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I just do.”

“And if you’re wrong?” I challenged. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Why she was so upset when she saw us together? Why she wanted me gone?”

“Tara.” His voice was edged with warning, but I didn’t care.

“She’s been here longer than anyone,” I pushed, stepping forward. “You’re telling me there’s no chance she has feelings for you?”

Jason exhaled harshly, rubbing a hand over his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I wanted to scream. My body ached all over—from the bruises, from the exhaustion, from the emotional whiplash of never knowing where I stood with him.

“I almost died today,” I seethed, my voice raw and furious. “And you can’t even give me a real answer?”