“No…” I whispered, shaking my head. “No… I’m scared that if I say it—if I admit it—and it turns out your parents do have something to do with my mother’s death…”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my voice cracking as I looked away.
“I might hate you, Jason,” I confessed, barely above a whisper. “I know I will. Maybe… maybe it’s already starting.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, sliding down my cheeks as I turned away from him, ashamed of how much it hurt to say out loud.
There was silence.
Then, his voice came low, calm—so calm it scared me. “Alright,” he said softly. “I’ll accept that.”
And before I could react, his hand gently cupped my face, pulling me toward him.
He kissed me.
Deeply.
Like he was trying to fight the truth with his lips, trying to remind me of everything but the p
