Page 132 of Sweet Surrender

“Hendrix—”

“You don’t get to tell me no.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, but he doesn’t argue. Probably solely because he doesn’t want to cause a scene. Instead, he goes back to passing out trays, to making people smile, all while acting like I’m not here.

I pretend not to notice but it stings something fierce.

He talks to the people like they’re normal, like they matter. And they do. But what’s even more fascinating to me is they all know him. They joke with him, tease him, thank him like this is just a regular occurrence.

Because it is.

And yet, he keeps it hidden.

I want to ask why. Why he won’t tell the world about this. Why he keeps his acts of kindness and generosity locked away. But I already know the answer. Jase doesn’t do things for show. He doesn’t want recognition. This is just . . . who he is.

I’m about to tell him all of this when she appears before me.

The woman is older with wild hair and a familiar tilt to her chin. Her eyes are weary and her cheeks deepen with dimples when she smiles at someone I can’t see. She approaches hesitantly, her eyes darting between us, and that’s when I hear Jase’s quiet “fuck.”

“Jase?” I say, both of them turning to look at me, the same expression on both of their faces.

Oh my God. Is she? No, she can’t be . . . family, can she? How could someone in his family be living on the streets and needing food from a shelter?

“Look, I had some unexpected news about a family member that threw me. It wasn’t the first time I got news like that, and I’m certain it won’t be the last.”

Is that what he meant? God, that feels like forever ago now.

My heart shatters for him, because I have an awful feeling this isn’t just any family member. How had he described his upbringing? Nathaniel lived with his dad, and Jase lived with his mom.

“. . . my mom and me, we did our best.”

Oh shit.

Now I understand. The why. The secrecy. The heartache. The everything. How long has he kept this secret and borne the heaviness of this . . . alone?

Jase’s entire body goes rigid. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move.

The woman—his mother—looks between us, her gaze lingering on Jase with something like recognition, something like longing, but it fades as quickly as it comes. She mumbles something incoherent about people listening to her before turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

CHAPTER SIXTY

Gizmo

Panic claws at my throat, choking me as I push through the streets.

She saw.

She knows.

I move faster, weaving between people, desperate to get away before she catches up. Before she asks the questions I can’t answer. That I don’t want to answer. That says so much more about me than I’ve ever shared with anyone before.

Before she looks at me with pity . . . or worse, disgust.

All I hear is the taunts from childhood, the whispered words from people who thought I couldn’t hear them.

Crazy runs in the family.

He’ll end up just like her.