“No!” I cringe. “I just think it would be better if you left now.”
My gaze falls to the comforter. Jason stays quiet a long time, then slips his hand over mine and squeezes it.
“Are you going to tell me what happened last night?” he asks. “Why were you so upset?”
I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him everything. He told me about his dad, and I’ve pretty much seen him at his worst. So it’s not like he can judge me, at this point. I take a deep breath to steady myself.
“I ran into a reporter. From America. Who followed me here.” I swallow. “I kind of screamed at him.”
He winces but says nothing.
“And … I sort of … had a fight. With my mother.”
He waits a long while before saying, “You mentioned that last night. What was it about?”
My throat tightens, and grief threatens to dry me to a sobbing husk, empty except for the lingering heartache that never seems to go away.
“About my brother,” I answer in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know what you know about his death, but it wasn’t how the papers reported it. He did overdose, but—” My voice cracks. “It was a suicide.”
His arm wraps around my shoulders, the warmth seeping through my clothes and soaking into my skin. “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,” he says.
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. My family have all heard the story, and I think I need to talk about it, anyway.”
He pulls me against him so it’s no longer just our sides touching, and I’m practically sitting in his lap, both of his arms wrapped around me. And maybe I should be embarrassed, especially after Sophie’s text, but all I know is that this feels good. He feels good. I just want to talk, and I want him to listen.
“Nathan drank,” I say. “A lot. I saw him do it but only ever told my dad, who said not to worry about it, because he’d take care of everything. I think he was more worried about Nathan’s career than his alcohol problem.” I snort. “Then I saw Nathan taking pills once. I just thought they were for a cold or something. So I didn’t tell anybody.” My voice wavers. “Then he called me right before he … did it. I thought he was joking. Guess he wasn’t.”
Jason shakes his head. “Grace, that wasn’t your fault. You weren’t responsible for him.”
I blink back the tears that prick my eyes. “Maybe I should have been.”
He places his hands on my shoulders and holds my gaze with his. “You can’t think like that. You weren’t responsible, and it wasn’t your fault.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Jason blows out a long breath, holds me closer.
“I spent a lot of years thinking I was the reason for my dad’s drinking,” Jason says, close to my ear. “And maybe I could have been an easier kid, been less angry with him for leaving my mom. But he was the one who drained those bottles, not me. He was responsible for his own life. Doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed at him, though.”
I pull back so I can look at him. And I see it in his eyes—he knows what I’m feeling. Because he’s felt it, too. Maybe it’s a little different because it’s his father. But he understands. He understands it all.
“Sometimes I feel like God is punishing me,” I whisper, “like I failed some kind of cosmic test.”
He cups a hand around my face, leaning close to hold my attention. “God doesn’t make you feel guilty. That’s all you. You’re beating yourself up over something you had no control over, and it’s time to move on.”
“Okay,” I say, even though I’m not sure how to digest his words. What am I supposed to do? How do you “move on,” anyway?
Jason stands, tries to smooth his hopelessly wrinkled T-shirt, then slips on his shoes. He pauses, lingering in the middle of the room, between the beds and the desks, and he just looks at me. And in that moment, I could swear everything inside me melts.
He’s seen me—all of me. Figuratively speaking, anyway. He knows about my past, he’s had my grief seep into his T-shirt with all my tears.
And he hasn’t given up on me yet.
Jason scratches the top of his head, fingers mussing his hair even more than it already is. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
“I don’t know. I need to call my sister.”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll call you later.” The hint of a smile brightens his face. “And if you’re busy, we’ll meet up tomorrow. My mom wants to see you again. Apparently, you made quite the impression.”
I return the smile. “Sure.”
Jason stares at me a few seconds longer, then opens the door and disappears. I watch it swing closed. And my stomach turns into a battleground. My chest tightens. Jason was so sweet to me. But so was Isaac. So was Nathan.
Then he killed himself.
I can’t want Jason. I can’t want someone like him. I need stable, and he’s the opposite.
My phone vibrates again, and my entire body freezes. What if it’s Momma? I can’t talk to her. I’m not ready. But when I check it, I see Jane’s name.
ditched mom 4 the day—she’s being pissy. show me around! she wrote.
I type back, Where are you?
We spend the next ten minutes working out logistics. I push down lingering nervousness as I get dressed. She didn’t say anything about last night. Is Momma angry?
I groan. My mother is the last person I want to think about. Spending the day with Jane is exactly what I need right now to keep my thoughts occupied.
As I’m heading out of my dorm, a thought pops into my head and I grin. I pull out my phone and dial a number I haven’t called in a while.
Jane is going to love me.
*
With Yoon Jae’s back turned, Jane raises her eyebrows sky-high and mouths, He’s gorgeous! She mimes swooning, and I stifle a giggle.