Page 130 of The Toy Maker

Jason pressed his hands against the door. “If you let me inside, I swear I will explain everything,” I scoffed. It was too late for that. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

For a moment, just a moment, I wanted to believe him.

“But you did,” I snapped, sobering up and suddenly wishing for some lightning.

Jason exhaled. Rain droplets rolled down his face, catching on his lashes and dripping from his chin. “I know,” he said, voice raw. “And I’m sorry.”

“Being sorry isn’t good enough.”

“But I don’t know what else to do!” Jason ran a hand through his wet hair and swallowed. “I can’t sleep or work or breathe without thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice hoarse, desperate. “I can’t stop seeing you when I walk down the street or hearing your voice in a crowd of people.” His eyes locked onto mine, pleading. “You’re driving me insane, and I don’t even know why.”

I swallowed hard, but he wasn’t done.

“You’re sarcastic and childish and a complete pain in my ass,”—he was literally a pain in my ass—“but for some reason, I can’t get you out of my head. Tara.” He stopped, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m crazy about you.”

I shook my head and forced back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. He finally admitted how he felt, and it was too late. Too much had happened, and I was tired of forgiving people who repeatedly hurt me.

“Is that why you pushed me away?” I demanded. Jason opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off before he had the chance. “There was always something more important to you, and there always will be.”

“That’s not true,” he pleaded.

I wanted to believe that love could undo all the pain, that apologies could erase all the nights I had spent convincing myself I didn’t need him.

But I had learned better.

“What about Kitty then?” Her name left a sour taste on my tongue.

“She had nothing to do with you getting fired.”

“We both know that’s not true,” I snapped.

He frowned. “I swear that’s not what happened.”

My jaw tightened. “Why don’t you tell me then?” I was done playing this game, done giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“She didn’t want us together, but it’s not because she wanted me.”

“Then what, huh? What’s the big secret?” I demanded, stepping closer to the glass, my breath fogging up the barrier between us.

He stared into my eyes and took a deep breath. “She’s my stepsister.”

For a moment, I thought I had misheard him. That the storm had distorted his voice, twisting his confession into something absurd.

But when I saw the way Jason’s expression barely wavered, and his lips pressed into a thin, resigned line, I knew he was serious.

My stomach twisted.

Ew.

I blinked away the shock. When the truth finally settled in, I faced the cold reality.

It all made sense. Why she was the only one who ever stood up to him. How she freaked out when she saw us together.

The warning signs I had been too blind, or too hopeful, to see.

My throat tightened. “You lied.”

Jason tensed. “I didn’t lie,” he tried to protest.