Page 56 of Bear and Book

“Elias,” Jason said, softer, coaxing. “I really missed you.”

The words should have pierced me. Once, they would have.

But I only felt tired.

“I don’t miss you at all,” I answered flatly.

Jason froze. The silence stretched. His gaze hardened.

“You’re lying,” he said. Not a question. A declaration. “I can tell. You’re still angry, sure, but under that⁠—”

“Stop.” The word cracked like a whip. My fox bristled, tail lashing, claws out. “Stop trying to tell me what I feel. You don’t get to do that anymore.”

His jaw flexed. “Look, I know we didn’t part in the best way.”

I barked out a humorless laugh. “Didn’t part in the best way? Jason, you left. I came home one day and your things were gone. No note. No explanation. Just gone.”

His face tightened, but his voice slid back into that maddening calm.

“I needed personal time. To fix myself. You know how bad things were then. But I’ve changed. I’ve got my life together now, and I realized what was missing.” Jason looked at me with that practiced intensity I used to fall for. “You.”

Something inside me broke open, but not the way he wanted.

Laughter bubbled out of me, sharp and bitter.

“Too bad,” I said. “Because when you left, you didn’t just take your things. You broke me, Jason. Shattered me. And I had to put myself back together. Alone. And I did.”

My chest heaved, fury making my voice rise. “And guess what? I’m not just whole again. I’m happy. With someone else. Someone better.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed, and for the first time that day, I saw the mask slip. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. His posture stiffened.

The satisfaction of that moment burned sweet and hot in my chest.

I’d spent years carrying the weight of what he did. The shame, the self-blame, the aching need for closure that never came. And now, standing here, looking at his face when I told him the truth.

That I had moved on, that I was loved, that he no longer had power over me. I felt something I never thought I would. Pride.

I was proud of myself. Proud that I’d said it out loud, and that I hadn’t folded under his gaze. I hadn’t begged or asked why or tried to patch up what was already broken.

I’d confronted him.

Jason stared at me, something dark and unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then, just as quickly, the mask was back in place.

“Well,” Jason said lightly, shrugging as if my words hadn’t struck him. “We’ll see about that.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to get out, but before I could, he moved.

“Actually,” Jason said smoothly, “I need to use the bathroom. Then we’ll continue this conversation.”

I stiffened.

The bathroom was in my bedroom. The thought of him walking into that space, into the room where Leo had laughed this morning, where Leo’s warmth still lingered in the sheets…

My stomach twisted.

“It’s down the hall,” I said tightly, pointing. “On the left.”

He gave me a smile I didn’t trust for a second. “Thanks.”