He kept flipping through his goddamn papers, pretending like he didn’t care about me at all.
“Say something!” I begged.
And then, finally, he looked at me.
The same green eyes I had stared into the day I was initiated into his world met mine, but the man behind them wasn’t the same.
The cold certainty was gone. Fear had crept into the cracks and tangled itself around him like chains. His eyes weren’t just haunted. They were full of something far worse.
Self-hatred.
Jason reached into the pile of papers and pulled something free.
“What’s this?” My voice was wary as he handed it to me.
“Your contract,” he said quietly.
Confusion knotted my brows. “I never signed a cont?—”
“To Pink Cherrie.”
The breath left my lungs. My mind scrambled, grasping for an explanation. “Why are you showing this to me?”
His face was unreadable. “That contract was only valid for six months.”
I shook my head. “Right, but that’s not until?—”
“Yesterday.”
The realization slammed into me.
I glanced down at the crisp paper in my hands, my grip tightening as if holding onto it could change what was already set in motion. The inked words blurred in my vision.
He wasn’t planning on drawing up new paperwork.
This wasn’t a conversation. This was a goodbye.
“Jason…” I hesitated, my heart slamming against my ribs. “You don’t have to do this.”
His jaw clenched, but he forced a small, almost regretful smile. “You can go.”
The words were sharp. Too sharp. Too practiced, too effortless, like he had prepared himself for this moment.
Jason didn’t look at me when he said it. He stared past me, toward the window, the rain outside casting muted shadows across his face. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying him. He thought this was right. He thought this was what was best for me.
I numbly shook my head. “I don’t want to.”
“I don’t care what you want,” he snapped suddenly, his voice cutting through the air. “Isn’t that obvious to you by now?” The words stung more than they should have, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t the truth—at least, not the whole truth.
Jason was trying to push me away, trying to make it easier.
“Stop that,” I whispered.
“What? Being honest?” he scoffed. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“Not like this.”
Jason laughed bitterly. “Honestly, I don’t give a damn what you think.” If this was an act, it was pretty damn convincing.
