Page 55 of The Toy Maker

He chuckled. “I hate to break it to you, but you might have a drinking problem.”

“I don’t drink often,” I argued, but disbelief radiated off him. “I only started drinking more when I got this job.”

“Interesting,” he mused, raising a curious brow.

“Shut up,” I grumbled, burying my face deeper into the warm fabric beneath me. I could only handle so much in a day, and Jason pushed the limit as if it was his sole purpose in life.

The bed creaked under the weight of another body shifting beside me, the sound cutting through the haze of my half-asleep mind. “I would if you let me go.”

My eyes snapped open, and my stomach dropped when I realized where I was: half sprawled across his chest, my fingers twisted in the fabric of his dress shirt. I scrambled back so quickly that the sheets twisted around my legs. “How long hav?—”

Jason sighed and sat up, brushing the wrinkles from his shirt. “Almost three hours. You whined whenever I tried to leave you.”

“Oh.” My cheeks burned at the image. “Sorry.”Maybe I do have a drinking problem?

Jason left me on the bed and sat on his workbench. “It is what it is,” he said with a shrug, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He tilted his head slightly, watching as I shifted awkwardly under the sheets. “Why did you freak out?”

The complete lack of saliva in my throat made it incredibly difficult to swallow. My chest tightened at the memory—Mom’s trembling hands holding fake lashes that didn’t belong to her, the sound of her shouting bleeding through the walls, and Dad walking out with a suitcase before Tristan even got home from school.

Jason didn’t wait for my response.

“Did your ex-boyfriend ditch you for someone else?”

“It’s none of your business.” The door muffled the music coming from outside, and I added, “You should go back to your party.”Leave me to wallowin peace.

“And miss this lovely side of you?” Sarcasm dripped off his tongue.

“Please,” I sighed, wanting this to be over with already.

He crossed his arms, leveling me with a serious look. “No.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, yanking a pillow over my head to block him out, but his cologne was stronger there. “Why are you so… so…”

“Care to finish that sentence?”

I shot him a glare from under the pillow before tossing it aside with a huff. “Fine,” I snapped, throwing the covers off and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The cool floor met my bare feet as I stood, my heart pounding faster than I’d ever admit. “If you won’t leave, then I will.”

My stomach churned with each movement, but staying meant an inevitable brain implosion. He had seen me at my lowest. He would just keep prying into my life, trying to find out what kind of woman would sign herself up to not only be a Cherry but moonlight as a toy tester as well.

Jason stood near the workbench. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his dark hair was slightly messy, as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He watched me struggle to get onto my feet, his expression caught somewhere between concern and exasperation.

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands like I was a spooked animal. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

I pushed myself to take a step forward, but the room began to spin.

“I don’t want you to puke everywhere,” he chastised.

“I’m fine,” I snapped in return.

Jason furrowed his eyebrows. “No, you’re stubborn and up to your ears in alcohol.”

I scoffed, even if everything was a little hazy. “I can handle it.”

“Okay, you can handle it.” He watched me as if I could fall at any moment. “But rest a little before trying to walk home.”

His concern paused my latest and greatest escape attempt. I shook my head and lowered myself back onto the bed. “Fine,” I gave in, his sudden care for me stirring up the butterflies I thought I’d drowned in rum.

Jason didn’t say anything, but the faint sound of his soft humming filled the silence as he turned back to his workbench. The rhythmic clicking of tools against metal was strangely soothing, and before I knew it, darkness pulled me into its grasp.