Page 35 of Jayson
JAYSON
Iheard every word.
I didn’t mean to. But the second I realized Nina was talking about me, I stopped moving and started listening. And then Keira spoke.
Tell me about Jayson.
I should’ve respected the line between eavesdropping and unraveling and just left. But I didn’t. I stood there, tucked into the shadow of the hall just beyond the doorway, jaw clenched, heart racing in a way it hasn’t in years. And I listened while Nina laid me bare with a voice full of memory.
He wasn’t always like this.
The boy she described—too much heart, not enough armor—I used to know him. Then I buried him. But Keira… she makes me remember he existed. And now she’s sitting in my grandmother’s favorite room like she belongs there, wrapped in firelight and silence, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
I step into the room without a word.
Keira looks up, startled—but not afraid. She holds my gaze.
Her black hair tumbles over one shoulder in soft, lazy waves, catching the light in strands that glint almost blue. Her skin—smooth, sun-kissed, the color of warm honey—glows in the light, and it makes the delicate curve of her cheekbones and the slope of her throat look almost unreal.
There’s something old-Hollywood about her. Like a 1950s bombshell. But she doesn’t wear it loud—it’s quieter. Innocent, almost. A kind of beauty that doesn’t have to try. It just exists, stubborn and soft and devastating.
Her eyes—almond-shaped, wide, dark brown and too damn knowing—haven’t smiled in my direction once. And yet, I can’t move. Because there’s something about the way she holds herself in silence that keeps pulling me back. And I don’t know if it’s fascination or guilt or something darker. But whatever it is—it’s sharp. And it’s sunk deep into my soul.
Nina catches sight of me and offers a half-smile that carries far too much meaning. “I’ll leave you two,” she says, smoothing down the front of her cardigan.
And then she’s gone, shutting the door behind her like she just handed me a grenade with the pin pulled.
I don’t say anything at first. I just take her in. She’s curled into the armchair, looking warm from the fire, her damp hair swept over one shoulder, skin pink from her shower. Her dark eyes—sharp, searching, soft when she doesn’t mean them to be—follow me as I move across the room.
I sit down opposite her, my body sinking into the chair like I’ve been holding the weight of too much for too long.
She watches me without speaking. So I break the silence first.
“You’re still here,” I comment.
Her brow lifts. “Shouldn’t I be?”
I smirk, slow and wry. “You didn’t run.Again.”
She shrugs, eyes flicking toward the fire, lashes casting shadows across her cheekbones. “Maybe I’ll try again once the leg’s better.”
There’s no apology in her voice. Just that same sharp edge beneath the softness, like silk pulled taut over a blade.
I watch her in the quiet. The way the firelight dances along her skin. The way her mouth curves—defiant, tired, beautiful. The way her presence warps the space around us, makes the silence feelthicker, like the room itself is holding its breath.
For a moment, there’s nothing but the fire between us—crackling, whispering. She watches me. Quiet. Waiting. And I feel it. Not just in my chest, but deeper—in my blood, my bones, the sharp pull low in my gut. It coils there, slow and steady, warning and desire all tangled up in one.
I’m closer than I meant to be. Leaning in without meaning to. Drawn to her like something magnetic and dangerous—like gravity with a knife in its teeth. She brings something alive in me. And maybe that’s the problem. Because I’ve spent the last ten years burying anything that felt even remotely human. And now here she is—burning at the edges, wrecking my rules without even trying. And I don’t want her to stop.
“And maybe I’ll catch you again,” I murmur.
She looks at me then—really looks. No fear, no coyness. Just that spark of something I can’t put a name to but already want too much of.
“I’m starting to think you want me to run,” she says, voice low.
Heat curls low in my gut. “Only so I have a reason to chase you.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, but it cuts just the same. “And what would you do if you caught me this time?”
