Page 56 of Toy No More

“Less than an hour?” he asks, cocking his brow. “One hour and…” he pauses, briefly glancing at his computer screen, “eighteen minutes.”

I gulp, trying to wash down the lump growing inside my throat.

Jasper’s laughter makes me jerk. He sits straight in the chair and keeps chuckling while shaking his head. “You omegas always get so flustered when put on the spot,” he says, voice overflowing with amusement. “Relax…” he murmurs, like I’m ruining the fun. “I give everyone a pass here and there. I’m no dictator.”

Hmm, sure. OSHA would love this place.

“I appreciate it, boss,” I say, keeping my voice firm to not satisfy his stupid prejudice. “I never would’ve left it wasn’t important. Or if there was anything else I was already asked to do.”

“Trey said something about your family, huh?”

My whole being tightens at the thought of talking with him about my personal life. Like he’s the dangerous stranger we’ve been taught not to give identifying information to online as kids. It’s his eyes and his aura. Everything about him tells me to be careful and to not show weakness.

“Yes,” I say with a nod. Unfortunately, I have to entertain him with a better answer than that, so I hesitantly elaborate. “My little brother. He got hurt at school.”

“Oh my,” he says, feigning care. His tone borders on mocking, but I choose to ignore it. “Family… The most important thing, they say. How old is he, this brother of yours?”

Just keep giving boring, simple answers, Kobe. He must tire of this soon enough. It’s not like he actually cares.

“Fourteen. He has—” I nearly let that same old song take over me, stopping myself at the last second. People who don’t know Skyler always ask about him, and I always have to explain, briefly and in a way that doesn’t make a big deal out of it, to stop them from looking at him in that weird, pitying manner, as if he’s some sick puppy. “He’s fourteen, yeah.”

Unfortunately, Jasper notices my hesitancy. He can tell that wasn’t what I was about to say. It clearly piqued his interest. Those piercing eyes lock with mine.“And?”

Fuck. I hate this.

I tighten my fist behind my back until my nails dig painfully into my palms. “He needs special care, so I had to make sure he was okay. He’s the only family I have,” I say, hoping he might understand. Jasper hates his father, but surely there must be someone—anyone—in this world and in his family that he loves. Or loved.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asks bluntly.

Nothing, a voice in my head thunders. Nothing is wrong with him.

I hate that goddamn question. I despise it. But once again, I have to remind myself that this isn’t just some seemingly well-meaning, uneducated stranger on the street or in a store. And I very much doubt Jasper would be open to me educating him about all of this.

Steadying myself with a deep breath, I push the words out. “He has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,” I say calmly. His brows shoot up again, this time in a genuinely curious manner. He doesn’t know what that means, of course. Reminding myself that maybe this will at least give me some leeway, even if it isn’t for the right reasons, I continue. “He’s just a few years younger cognitively than he should be. Has…issues with some everyday things. His memory, problem-solving, controlling his emotions. Stuff like that. He’s a good kid, though. Smart. He just needs a different approach.”

It feels wrong telling him this. Like I’m exposing Skyler, and myself, to some dangerous predator. To someone who doesn’t deserve to be privy to these intimate struggles. Ones he could never understand. He never will, and no matter what I say, I already know what the image of Sky in his head is going to be.

Jasper makes a sort of pensive hum. There’s something shifting behind his eyes, and I can’t tell what he’s pondering about.

Is that it? Was that enough for him to finally move past this?

“Don’t you ever feel like he holds you back?” Jasper asks out of nowhere, with honesty and straight-forwardness of a child completely oblivious to how loaded that question is.

I respond without a moment’s hesitation. “No.” I’m adamant and clear in my answer, and have to stop myself from frowning.

“Hm,” Jasper sounds, spinning in his chair slightly to the side. I figure this isn’t about me anymore, or Skyler. His thoughts have gone somewhere else entirely, clearly, because he sits there, staring blankly into space. It’s almost like he forgets I’m there until he blinks and glances at me again. “You can go now. In fact, I want to be alone. Need to think. Tell anyone who doesn’t have a job to do to take an hour or two for a break and to not bother me with shit. I’ll send a message when I need you here,” he says, waving his hand before he spins around with his back to me.

While I raise my brows in confusion at his abrupt decision, I don’t question it. Whatever the hell is going through his head isn’t my problem.For now.Even if he can’t see me, I nod before walking out.

I can catch a break and relax, at least.

Today has already felt about forty hours long. I retreat to the break room on the top floor, where a few of the guys are hanging out, playing cards as always. I relay to them what Jasper told me. Some excitedly run off, clearly itching to find better fun than sitting around, and others continue playing. They ask if I want to join, but I decline, wanting nothing more than to simply sit in the car, recline my seat, and close my eyes for a few moments. Maybe listen to some music…

Yeah. That would be nice.

Driven by that lovely premise, I step out into the loading bay for a quick smoke. Jasper hates the smell of cigarettes anywhere near his cars; even told the mechanic off for the faintest scent after getting his main ride back from the shop.

I’ve definitely been slipping with this bad habit recently. I’d always tell myself I would never allow it become a full-blown addiction again, and I’m pretty sure I am approaching that point. Though…my life’s been rather stressful, so who wouldn’t?

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