Page 24 of Restitution
It’s cold, but Tobias and Ewan make sure the fire is kept lit all day and night. Aria cooks with what she can find in the cupboards, and Cassie complains on the sofa while we all pretend she doesn’t exist. Aria looked after her when we got here – she’d been drugged, probably by her own mother, and not once has someone looked for her.
Sad, but I don’t care. I hate Cassie. Though not as much as Tobias does – he’s only tolerating her presence in case he can use her at some point to get to Bernadette.
I push up from the couch to go to my bedroom, stopping when I see Jason standing on the patio, his hands in his pockets, watching me.
He’s so thin, his face drawn, his hair longer. His eyes are empty, as if the weight of the world is on him. I barely recognise him.
“Are you okay?” he asks me, his voice deep but hesitant. He’s dodged me for the last forty-eight hours. If I entered a room, he left it. I tried to say hi when we got here, but he looked like he was going to vomit and vanished.
Aria told me he just needs time.
I nod and cross my arms. “Areyouokay?”
He stares at me then looks down. “Yeah.” He shifts on his feet, rubs his face and looks at me again. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I broke my promise. I said I’d be there for you. Your dad died, and I was gone. Kade was gone. If I’d stayed and helped you, maybe none of this would be happening.”
“You did what you had to do. People respond differently to situations.”
He lets out a huff of air and shakes his head. “I didn’t fight for my relationship with Giana or try to get my brother back – I couldn’t even face looking at him to explain my side. I sold my house and blew every penny on drugs. I didn’t do what I had to do; I did the total opposite.”
With the sound of the breeze outside, I swallow. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “My own fault, not yours.”
“Are you clean now?”
“Three months. My dad put me into rehab, and Giana told me I needed to get sober.” He drops his gaze to the ground. “It took me two and a half years to get a text back from her. I got to see her for the first time a few weeks back, and we’ve talked about trying again, but she doesn’t trust me. I’m a cheat after all.”
“I have all the footage from that night,” I tell him. “Chris, my stepbrother, he drugged us both. He made us do it. Neither of us were in our right mind or even fully conscious. You aren’t a cheat, Jason; you’re a victim.”
Jason’s brows furrow. “He drugged us?”
I hug myself and step onto the patio with him. “Kade was sentan edited clip of us. It looked like we were willingly…” I pause, shaking my head.
“Even if I try telling her, she’s not going to believe me. Why would she?”
“Then make her believe you,” I say, stepping forward again, seeing the tiredness in his eyes. “We were attacked. It’s clear as day in the full recording. You could show her it as proof.”
His eyes are red as he looks away. “I’m not going to show her me fucking a teenager.”
“It wasn’t consensual, Jason.”
After a minute, he looks at me again. “I’m sorry I shut you out,” he says. “I shouldn’t have blocked you and ran. I just needed to… get out. Escape. I lost my job a few days later and couldn’t handle it all. It’s no excuse. I failed you. I’m sorry I broke my promise,” he says again.
“You don’t need to apologise to me.”
“Do you always do that?” he asks.
I tilt my head. “Do what?”
“Ignore your own demons to cater to everyone else’s? From what I’ve witnessed, you seem to run after those around you, be there for them, centre yourself in their trauma, and no one seems to do the same for you.”
I shrug and give a tight smile. “I’m fine.”
But his comment hits hard. Do I ignore my own pain and focus on others?
