Page 51 of The Toy Maker (The Pink Cherrie #1)

As I sat there, the music fading into the background, I realized how stupid I was. Why had I even come? To forget him? To drown out the memories in cheap drinks and loud music?

No.

I had come because, deep down, I wanted to feel close to him again. Even if it was in the last place I should be looking.

But that fragile illusion shattered when Jade spoke again. She shook her head. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I think he left with you.”

I snapped out of my trance, my fingers freezing around my glass. “What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s seen him since you were fired. We even had an inducting ceremony for a new Cherry, and he didn’t show.”

That caught me off guard. Jason not showing up? That wasn’t like him. He was always there, watching from the shadows, observing every move. I thought I had been the only one falling apart, but maybe…

I forced myself to shrug, pretending to be unfazed. “Huh.”

It worked—Jade let it go.

“So what’s your plan?” she asked, stretching her arms before downing the last of her beer.

“I’m moving in with my brother for a while,” I replied, swirling the last remnants of my drink before finishing it off.

“How long?”

I set the empty glass down with a soft clink. “Indefinitely.”

Jade raised an eyebrow. “You’d move to a different state just to avoid a guy you hooked up with?”

I met her gaze, struggling to find the words for what it felt like every time I thought about him—like something was missing, like I had left a piece of myself behind.

But I didn’t have to say it. She saw right through me. “It wasn’t just hooking up, was it?”

I dug around in my purse and pulled out the first twenty-dollar bill I felt before smacking it onto the bar. “Not for him.”

Jade sighed, shaking her head. “That’s his loss.”

I wished I could believe that.

Instead, I forced a small smile and murmured a goodbye before slipping off my stool. Staying here any longer would only drag me deeper into the mess I was trying to escape.

I pushed through the thickening crowd, the air growing hotter with every passing second, and kept my head down, moving quickly toward the exit.

The door swung open just as I reached it, and I barely managed to sidestep a group of people stumbling inside.

I cast one final look over my shoulder before I stepped out into the cool night air.

And then I was gone.

The next few days consisted of calling the leasing office to terminate my lease, canceling my subscriptions, putting my furniture in storage, and digging out the clothes I thought were lost from the back of my closet.

By the seventh day, my apartment was nothing more than a suitcase and a glittery lamp I bought in the fifth grade.

Gray clouds hung in the sky all morning. A storm was rolling in, and I was hoping I wouldn’t get caught in it. I shut the porch doors, opting not to freeze from the winter weather.

“Seventy-five degrees and partly cloudy, my ass,” I grumbled to myself.

I checked my phone for a text from Tristan; he would be arriving in his brand-new dad car any minute. It was aptly chosen by his heavily pregnant, lovely wife.

Just when I started to relax, there was a knock on the door.

I walked over, assuming it was Tristan. But then I remembered that my creepy landlord kept insisting that I have a going away drink with him. My hand was on the knob when I asked, “Who is it?”

“Jason.”

His voice made me nauseous but also filled my body with warmth, kind of like my first sip of vodka when I was sixteen. “Please let me in.”

I stood there for a moment, my finger resting on the handle. Letting him in would be inviting him back into my life—the very one he had made so clear he wanted nothing to do with.

“You should leave,” I sighed.

“Not until you let me come in.” He sounded frantic and out of breath, like he had run the whole way here.

“Then you’ll be waiting a long time.” I said, hoping to hear footsteps fading in the distance.

“Tara, I?—”

I cut him off before he could finish, “I don’t want to hear what you have to say anymore. Leave me the fuck alone.”

There was silence, then footsteps. My heart throbbed from the adrenaline of sending him away.

But before I calmed down, there was another knock. This time at the porch door.

I whipped around, expecting to see a tree limb or a bloodthirsty killer, but instead, I was met by two shimmering green eyes.

Jason.

I sucked in a breath, my chest tightening.

The rain had turned into a steady downpour, soaking his hair, his clothes, until he was drenched to the bone.

Strands of dark hair clung to his forehead, and rain droplets ran down his sharp jawline like melted silver.

He looked like a mess—or at the very least, like he hadn’t thought this through.

I gathered the nerve to ask, “What the hell are you doing out there?”

“I need to talk to you,” he shouted through the glass between us. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You’re insane.” He had climbed three stories to my porch like some kind of lunatic.

He didn’t even try to deny it. “I know.”

I shook my head, taking a step back. “You could’ve died.”

Jason huffed out a breathless laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe. But you weren’t answering your damn door.”

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to scream at him for pulling a stunt so reckless, for showing up when I was trying to move on, for making me care when I desperately didn’t want to anymore.

But all I could do was stare at him.

I looked past him to see if there were any rope ladder-like vines for him to Romeo his way back down on. “I told you to leave, and I meant it.”

“Please just lis?—”

“Fuck you.” I wished I hadn’t already taken the curtains down.

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.

I could feel the white-hot rage running through my veins. “Were you trying to make me jealous?” I accused.

Jason fumbled for words. “I?—”

“Don’t.” I stepped closer, close enough for him to see the fire in my eyes, to hear every word with crystal clarity.

“You knew how I felt the entire time, and instead of telling me the truth, you hung me out to dry. You roped me into your world and then kicked me out.” My voice trembled with the fury clawing its way out of my chest. “That’s not what love is. ”

Jason watched through the glass, powerless, finally.

“Have a nice life,” I sneered in disgust. I gathered my remaining things and walked to the front door.

“Tara,” he yelled after me. “Wait!”

I didn’t.

I flung the door open and rushed down the stairs. The last thing I wanted was to give Jason enough time to meet me in front of the building.

As soon as I stepped outside, it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of freezing water at me. The wind picked up, and I regretted not packing all of my winter clothes first.

Tristan was already waiting for me by the curb when I saw him. He was leaning against his car, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, his familiar lopsided grin flashing as soon as he saw me.

He pulled me into a hug, and relief washed over me.

“We need to go,” I urged, my voice tight as I instinctively checked over my shoulder.

His grin faltered, concern flickering in his eyes. “Why?”

“I’ll explain on the way.” I shoved my purse into his hands and moved toward the trunk. “Just start the car.”

He frowned but didn’t ask any more questions. He climbed into the driver’s seat while I wrestled my suitcase into the trunk. My hands shook as I slammed it shut, but I didn’t stop to process the feeling twisting inside my chest.

I hurried to the passenger seat, my breath uneven.

Tristan turned the heat up and cast a sideways glance at me, his gaze sweeping over my red nose and puffy eyes. “Are you okay?” His voice was softer, hesitant.

I gave a half-hearted nod. “Let’s just go.”

The tires crunched over wet pavement as we pulled onto the road, headlights slicing through the sheets of rain. I let my head rest against the seat, exhaling slowly, trying to relax.

But I looked back and saw Jason.

He came skidding around the corner, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his pants splattered with mud and leaves like he’d torn through hell to get to me, but the only thing I could focus on were the two green eyes staring at me as we drove away.

But I had to leave. I had to figure out who I was outside Pink Cherrie, without Jason. I had spent so much time trying to fit in that I had forgotten what it was like to be on my own.

Beside me, Tristan kept his hands on the wheel, but I could feel his attention flicking toward me. He wasn’t the prying type, but he wasn’t stupid either. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

I gave him a sidelong look as rain pelted the car. “The whole story?”

“Don’t spare the details.” He grinned.

“A few months ago, I was fired…” My mind raced with the images of the past few months. “So I went looking for a new job.”