Tears well in my eyes at the mere thought. I can’t possibly face him without breaking at his feet.

He’ll taunt me and call me a monster; he’ll tell me it’s all my fault. I can’t take that right now. My armor has chipped and is now heaped in a useless pile amongst the broken pieces.

So I do the one thing I can at this moment. My nails dig into the dirt as I use it to rise to my feet.

There’s something so utterly hard about standing up after a fall. The ground keeps pulling me down as if not willing to let me go. It’s gravity, I know that, but my brain is unable to process that fact right now.

It takes me long seconds, but I manage to stand up on unsteady feet. I don’t look at Asher—not even one glance.

If I do, I’ll make the broken pieces worse. I’ll soak them with blood, bury them in my chest, and it’ll be an unsalvageable mess.

I take one step after another, putting one foot in front of the other.

One step.

Two steps.

I can do this. I can walk.

It takes me what seems like an eternity to reach the entrance. It’s empty, desolate and…wrong.

That sensation from the hospital returns with a vengeance.

Wrong.

Everything is just so fucking wrong, from the house to the hollowness to the damn air.

Jason stands at the front, leaning against the double doors. His developed arms are crossed over his chest as he watches me with furrowed brows.

He knew all along.

That’s why he warned me through Cloud003’s Instagram account. If I’d paid enough attention, I probably could’ve done something about it.

I could’ve stopped myself before I fell this deep into Asher’s trap.

Problem is, I didn’t even feel it when I was lured in. I couldn’t smell the scheme or sense the manipulations. I suspected him, but never enough to think he was after my life—literally.

I only felt the push when I fell. I only registered the fall when all the pieces scattered around me under that tree.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks slowly, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

My feet come to a screeching halt at the step. When I meet his gaze, my movements are slow and almost robotic. In my attempts to stop myself from crying, I’ve turned numb.

The hot sun above might as well become a gray cloud. I feel nothing, see nothing, and smell nothing. The world has suddenly become colorless, and I have no idea if I want the colors back.

“Ah, shit.” He rubs the back of his neck and approaches me slowly, as if I’m an injured animal. “Did Asher say something? I knew that asshole would step on you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I don’t recognize my voice; it’s neutral and dead, colorless like the world surrounding me.

He rubs his nape again, appearing uncomfortable. “Asher threatened me and my mom. She’ll have nowhere to go if Alex fires her, so we have to stay here until I secure my position in the NFL.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I can’t keep watching you consider him a hero when he’s your worst villain.” His tone hardens with every word. “He never cared about you, Reina. Not once in his selfish, fucked-up existence did Asher Carson look at you like he gives two fucks about your wellbeing.”

My brows furrow.

Yes, Asher might have only approached me for revenge, and he’s always been his own brand of asshole, but I saw those small gestures…the way his eyes softened, the show of affection in his green gaze, the tightening of his jaw afterward as if he didn’t want to care.

It doesn’t matter, though, does it?

None of it erases what he did. His intention was loud and clear on the roof, in the classroom, and in the locker room.

He wanted to kill me.

Don’t they say actions speak louder than words?

I’ve witnessed his actions. Hell, I can still feel those creepy vibes down to my bones.

“Tell me everything you know, Jace.” I meet his kind brown gaze with my determined one.

My brain is telling me to retreat to my room, hide under the covers, and cry—but my sheets still smell like him from yesterday. Hell, my entire body does.

I’m still sore from him, still full of him in ways even I don’t want to admit.

Besides, if I give the gloomy cloud any freedom, it’ll just take over and leave me with nothing but depression and dark thoughts.

My best bet is to know what I’ve done. There’s nothing scarier than ignorance. It slowly creeps under your skin and eats you alive, and when you decide to act, it’s already too late.

I’m solving this before it turns unresolvable.

Jason cocks his head to the side. “Follow me.”

I don’t question and walk behind him as he heads to the pool house.

His shoulders become my focus as I try to walk right. My brain keeps pulling me in different directions. One part wants to run back to Asher and demand the truth from him. The other part is letting the gloomy cloud whisper nasty things in my brain.

See? You’re nothing.

Why don’t you follow Arianna and just die?

No one cares about you.

The sound of a closing door shuts those demons up. I didn’t realize we were in the pool house until Jason locks the double doors.

Something is secretive enough to warrant this, I suppose.

“I knew this day would come.” He speaks as he heads toward the TV on the opposite wall. “I knew I’d have a use for this.” He retrieves a flash drive from his pocket and hooks it into the TV, cocking his head back. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“This footage will give you an idea of what you need to know.”

My palms turn clammy as I slowly nod.

He motions at the cushions lined up in front of the TV. “You might want to sit down, Reina.”

I approach them at a snail’s pace, suddenly not sure if this is the place I want to be in.

Before I can voice my thoughts, Jason plays the video.

The footage’s angle is sideways, and the quality is grainy like those old security videos. It’s almost as if it’s been recorded in secret.

There’s no audio.

It’s just a frame of Asher and me standing in front of the locker room. The football team’s, I think. I’m wearing a blue cheerleading uniform and Asher has a blue Tigers jacket on, which means it’s from high school time.

Although I can’t hear any words, I can feel the maliciousness on my skin. Asher appears pissed off, his jaw clenching and his hands balled into fists by his sides. I, on the other hand, seem cool. My arms are crossed over my chest and my expression is robotic, like the one from the fake pictures on the internet.

As he grits his teeth, forcing words out, I stand there unmoving. Silent. No reaction.

I’m entranced by the scene: the volatile tension in his body, the complete relaxation of mine.

Only, am I really relaxed?

I tilt my head to the side, watching closely. From the outside looking in, I appear completely unaffected. However, my nails dig into my arms. It’s not hard enough to draw attention, but it’s there. I’m doing that to rein it in. I can tell without having to remember that particular scene.

But what was I reining in? My reaction? My emotions?

What exactly were you hiding, Old Reina?