Page 59 of Isabelle & Jason
Isabelle was retreating inside herself. Ever since they’d bumped into Dillan, she’d begun to spiral. He’d seen theevidence of her slipping away from him. The bags under her eyes. And now this?
She’d turned to drinking. If that wasn’t rock bottom, he didn’t know that he wanted to witness it.
“Just think about what you’re doing,” Mark said. “Think about what’s best for her, even if it hurts you both.”
Jason nodded, his eyes never leaving Isabelle’s face. He’d sit by her side tonight, watching her, making sure she didn’t get sick. Maybe by the time the light shone through the windows, he’d be capable of doing the hardest thing in his life.
Words would be difficult to come by. He already knew that. At this point, he didn’t think ten lifetimes would be enough to figure out the right thing to say. And maybe that was the point.
Across the room, Mark climbed into bed. He rolled over, giving them his back. He knew more than he should, but he’d keep his mouth shut when it came to Nikki and Mateo. Jason could trust him. Hopefully, Finn and Merrick would be trustworthy as well.
Jason leaned over, bracing his forearms on his knees. He could still see Isabelle’s silhouette by the pale moonlight shining through the window. In a few short hours, he’d be expected to start on breakfast.
Based on her current state, Isabelle wouldn’t be getting up at her usual time. Hopefully he’d be back here before she woke so they could have a chat.
There was only one bright spot in all of this, as far as he was concerned.
Isabelle was sleeping—a deep and apparently dreamless sleep.
Nightmares wouldn’t find her tonight, which could be a blessing or a curse. The last thing he wanted was for Isabelle to grow dependent on a substance that knocked her out rather than dealing with the demons head-on.
He rested his head in his hands and took a calming breath. It was going to be a long night.
22
Isabelle
Isabelle blinked, or at least she attempted to.
Her eyes were dry, and they didn’t want to cooperate. They felt glued shut if anything.
She groaned, her hands covering her face. But moving only made her headache worse.
Something was off about where she was.
That had her heart racing to the point she sat up suddenly. Sharp pain sliced through her head, and she had no other choice but to lie down once more. The throbbing in her skull didn’t abate even in her reclined state.
Was it possible to feel like she’d eaten a mouthful of cotton?
Why?
Then the memories returned and whatever was left in her stomach threatened to make another appearance. She groaned again and, this time, slowly opened her eyes.
It wasn’t incredibly bright in the room. With shades drawn, she could see a faint light coming in behind the drapes. It could be early morning, or it could be afternoon. There was no telling.
Something shifted in her periphery, and she managed a squeak of surprise followed by a grunt of pain. The silhouette of a man sat in a chair near her bed. He was hunched over, forearms resting atop his thighs. His head hung low.
She would have recognized his form anywhere.
“Jason?” she rasped, her throat dry. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted his head. In the dim lighting she could barely make out an expression of pain, but that quickly flitted away and a hardness replaced it. “This is my room.”
Isabelle glanced around the space carefully so she didn’t make her headache worse. Then she frowned. “How did I get here?”
Jason sighed with frustration as he straightened and raked his hands through his hair. “What do you think you were doing?” His voice was a whisper, but she flinched at the venom in it. He was definitely angry.
No, angry didn’t seem to cover it.
