“Olive.” His voice sounded carefully neutral, giving nothing away. He stopped a few feet from her, maintaining a distance that felt deliberate. “How is he?”
 
 “Stable. The nurse said his vital signs are improving, and they’re still waiting on toxicology results.” She gestured toward the chairs. “Do you want to sit?”
 
 Jason remained standing. “Tell me what happened at my dad’s house. All of it.”
 
 So she did.
 
 Olive walked him through finding Lloyd unconscious, the evidence of the search, the puncture wound behind his ear.
 
 Jason listened without interrupting, his expression growing grimmer with each detail.
 
 When she finished, he ran a hand through his hair—a gesture Olive recognized as his way of processing stress.
 
 “This was a professional job,” he finally said.
 
 She nodded slowly, trying to keep her reactions steady. “That’s what I thought too.”
 
 Something in his gaze shifted. Then he glanced around before taking her arm and leading her outside.
 
 Olive knew exactly where this conversation was going, and dread filled her.
 
 But she might as well get this talk over with.
 
 Heat rose from the asphalt in visible waves, making the air shimmer around the parked cars. Sweat immediately began to form at Olive’s temples as the humid afternoon air clung to her skin like a damp blanket.
 
 She took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The scent of blooming jasmine from the hospital’s landscaping couldn’t quite mask the underlying smells of car exhaust and the medicinal odor that seemed to permeate the air. Somewhere nearby, a car alarm chirped twice as someone locked their vehicle.
 
 “You went to see my dad behind my back.” Jason’s words weren’t a question but a statement, delivered with quiet intensity that was somehow worse than shouting.
 
 Olive swallowed hard. “Yes, I did.”
 
 He froze and turned toward her. “Why? Why did you want to see him? And don’t tell me it was because you wanted to catch up. I know you better than that.”
 
 The words caught in her throat. She’d been trying to think of a way to tell him, but she hadn’t found the courage.
 
 It was no longer an option.
 
 “My old house in Oasis . . . the one that’s been unoccupied since my family moved out,” she started. “Turns out it’s owned by a mystery organization.”
 
 “Okay . . .” He crossed his arms and stared at her with narrowed eyes, waiting for her to continue.
 
 “Your father is one of the people listed as an owner.”
 
 She left the statement out there and watched as Jason comprehended her words.
 
 First surprise. Then disbelief. Then denial.
 
 “That can’t be right.” He swung his head back and forth.
 
 “I came here to ask him about it. I didn’t want to upset you, especially if it turned out to be nothing.”
 
 “After everything we talked about last time we were together. After I told you I wanted a future with you. After we agreed we needed to be honest with each other.” Each sentence came out measured and controlled, like he was working exceedingly hard to keep his voice level. “You decided to investigate my father without telling me.”
 
 Emotion burned in her throat. “Jason, it wasn’t?—”
 
 “It wasn’t what, Olive? It wasn’t about trust? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you decided my father was guilty of something, and you were going to prove it with or without my consent.”
 
 The accusation stung because it held more truth than she wanted to admit. “I needed answers. And I thought . . . I thought it would be easier if you weren’t there to complicate things.”