Hello, I Love You (29 page)

I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t notice the door opening and someone approaching until a hand touches my shoulder. I jerk away from the contact, my head shooting up. And I see Jason peering back at me.

“The door was unlocked,” he says, then, after noticing my tear-stained cheeks, he pushes damp hair out of my eyes, cupping his hand around my face. “Grace.”

At the tenderness in his voice, pain rips through me afresh, and a whimper escapes my lips. In an instant, he pulls me into his arms and nestles my head beneath his chin, my face resting against his chest. His back against the bed, he sets me in his lap and holds me tight against him. My body shakes with sobs, but his steadiness holds me together.

“Shhh,” he croons, then murmurs Korean words against my ear, smoothing my hair over and over, the repetition its own source of comfort.

We sit like that so long, I feel like we’ve melded together. I finally stop crying, but I can’t let go of him. I breathe in the cool, watery smell of his cologne, the tip of my nose dusting the skin on his neck. He smells like rain.

His hand slips beneath my hair and trails lines across the nape of my neck, dipping below the collar of my shirt and sending chills down my spine. I should let go, tell him I’m fine. But the hollow ache inside me tells me I’m not fine. And while nothing can fill the void, he’s the only thing that can make it a little smaller.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, his warm breath tickling my ear. His fingers twist in my hair absently. “Did you argue with your mother?”

I nod.

“And that’s why you’re so upset?”

“No,” I whisper.

He hesitates a moment. “Does this have anything to do with your brother?”

My breath freezes in my chest. I lift my head so I can look at him. “My what?”

His gaze falls. “Your brother. Your brother was Nathan Cross, wasn’t he? I didn’t want to mention it because you never talk about it.”

Fresh tears well up in my eyes. “You knew?”

He gives me a soft smile. “Everybody knows Nathan Cross was Stephen Wilde’s son. Even KPOP singers.” His smile fades. “Why did you think you had to keep that from me?”

“I didn’t want anyone to think less of me,” I say, barely loud enough for even me to hear it.

“Why would anyone think less of you? If anything, people would sympathize with you.”

Not if they knew. It was my fault. But I can’t bring myself to say the words.

“The funeral was in June, right?” he says. “It was really brave of you to come here right after all that happened.”

I don’t feel brave.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and your mother, but I’m here for you, okay?” He presses his cool hands against my cheeks. “You said you were going to help me, and I’m going to help you.”

Fresh tears threaten to seep out of my eyes, and I want to tell him how much he’s already done for me, how he’s helped me forget about all my pain. But I can’t spit out the words.

“I’m tired,” I say instead.

Jason slips out from underneath me and gets to his feet, then helps me to mine. I crawl into bed, feeling like I ran a marathon. It’s still early, but I think I could sleep for days.

Jason stands there a moment, then says, “I guess I’ll go. Do you need anything?”

I bite my lip, wondering if I should say what I’m thinking. What I want. But I take in the empathy in his eyes, and I know he’ll understand.

“Don’t leave,” I say. “I don’t want you to go.”

He hesitates a second, the deliberation visible on his face. For that brief moment, I hold my breath. But then he kicks off his shoes, flips off the overhead light, and yanks the comforter and extra blankets off my bed. And we make a nest on the rug, because he knows I don’t want to be on the bed—I want to be somewhere new, somewhere just for us.

He rolls onto his side to look at me, and I offer him a grateful smile. I turn away from him, curling up on my side and listening to him breathing, feeling the warmth that radiates from him.

I drift in and out of sleep, but I wake completely when I feel the weight of an arm wrap around my waist. Jason presses his face into my hair at the back of my neck, and my breath catches. I force myself to keep still so he thinks I’m still asleep, but my heartbeat pounds so loud he must be able to hear it.

“Grace,” he murmurs into my hair, and I’ve never loved the sound of my name so much. “You were the only person who was there for me when I needed you. I want to be there for you.”

Then he says it, and every nerve inside my body prickles at the same time.

“Trust me,” he whispers.

And I only wish I could.

Chapter Twenty-four

The next morning, I wake up to my phone buzzing. Jason mumbles something in his sleep and rolls away from me.

Am I allowed to come back to my room now?
Sophie texts.

My cheeks burn, and I fumble with the buttons on my phone.
YES!
I respond.
I’M SO SORRY!

She replies a moment later,
*rolls eyes* If you’re shacking up with my brother, I’m going to vomit.

Even more heat rolls through me, and I type back as quickly as possible,
I am NOT sleeping with him. Well, I did. But totally in a literal way. Long story.

She doesn’t respond, but I decide it would be best if Jason were gone by the time she arrives. I sit up, stretching my stiff muscles—maybe the floor was a bad idea—and nudge him. He opens his eyes and blinks back sleep, then smiles up at me.

“Good morning,” he says, voice thick with drowsiness.

My insides are doing backflips as I peer down at him, with his head on
my
pillow, but I stomp on all these emotions. Must keep level head. Must not be overwhelmed. Must not be overwhelmed.

“I think Sophie came in last night,” I say.

He scrubs his face with both hands. “Yeah, she did. Around eleven, I think.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary. She left again.”

I groan. “This is her room, too.”

“She could have stayed if she wanted to.”

Not if she thought we were getting busy. But I choose to keep that to myself. Just another thing to add to Sophie’s list of grievances she has against me, I guess.

“I—I think you should leave.”

He sits up. “Are you … mad at me?”

“No!” I cringe. “I just think it would be better if you left now.”

My gaze falls to the comforter. Jason stays quiet a long time, then slips his hand over mine and squeezes it.

“Are you going to tell me what happened last night?” he asks. “Why were you so upset?”

I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him everything. He told me about his dad, and I’ve pretty much seen him at his worst. So it’s not like he can judge me, at this point. I take a deep breath to steady myself.

“I ran into a reporter. From America. Who followed me here.” I swallow. “I kind of screamed at him.”

He winces but says nothing.

“And … I sort of … had a fight. With my mother.”

He waits a long while before saying, “You mentioned that last night. What was it about?”

My throat tightens, and grief threatens to dry me to a sobbing husk, empty except for the lingering heartache that never seems to go away.

“About my brother,” I answer in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know what you know about his death, but it wasn’t how the papers reported it. He did overdose, but—” My voice cracks. “It was a suicide.”

His arm wraps around my shoulders, the warmth seeping through my clothes and soaking into my skin. “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,” he says.

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. My family have all heard the story, and I think I need to talk about it, anyway.”

He pulls me against him so it’s no longer just our sides touching, and I’m practically sitting in his lap, both of his arms wrapped around me. And maybe I should be embarrassed, especially after Sophie’s text, but all I know is that this feels good.
He
feels good. I just want to talk, and I want him to listen.

“Nathan drank,” I say. “A lot. I saw him do it but only ever told my dad, who said not to worry about it, because he’d take care of everything. I think he was more worried about Nathan’s career than his alcohol problem.” I snort. “Then I saw Nathan taking pills once. I just thought they were for a cold or something. So I didn’t tell anybody.” My voice wavers. “Then he called me right before he … did it. I thought he was joking. Guess he wasn’t.”

Jason shakes his head. “Grace, that wasn’t your fault. You weren’t responsible for him.”

I blink back the tears that prick my eyes. “Maybe I should have been.”

He places his hands on my shoulders and holds my gaze with his. “You can’t think like that. You weren’t responsible, and it wasn’t your fault.”

I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Jason blows out a long breath, holds me closer.

“I spent a lot of years thinking I was the reason for my dad’s drinking,” Jason says, close to my ear. “And maybe I could have been an easier kid, been less angry with him for leaving my mom. But he was the one who drained those bottles, not me. He was responsible for his own life. Doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed at him, though.”

I pull back so I can look at him. And I see it in his eyes—he knows what I’m feeling. Because he’s felt it, too. Maybe it’s a little different because it’s his father. But he understands. He understands it all.

“Sometimes I feel like God is punishing me,” I whisper, “like I failed some kind of cosmic test.”

He cups a hand around my face, leaning close to hold my attention. “God doesn’t make you feel guilty. That’s all you. You’re beating yourself up over something you had no control over, and it’s time to move on.”

“Okay,” I say, even though I’m not sure how to digest his words. What am I supposed to do? How do you “move on,” anyway?

Jason stands, tries to smooth his hopelessly wrinkled T-shirt, then slips on his shoes. He pauses, lingering in the middle of the room, between the beds and the desks, and he just looks at me. And in that moment, I could swear everything inside me melts.

He’s seen me—all of me. Figuratively speaking, anyway. He knows about my past, he’s had my grief seep into his T-shirt with all my tears.

And he hasn’t given up on me yet.

Jason scratches the top of his head, fingers mussing his hair even more than it already is. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know. I need to call my sister.”

He nods. “Okay. I’ll call you later.” The hint of a smile brightens his face. “And if you’re busy, we’ll meet up tomorrow. My mom wants to see you again. Apparently, you made quite the impression.”

I return the smile. “Sure.”

Jason stares at me a few seconds longer, then opens the door and disappears. I watch it swing closed. And my stomach turns into a battleground. My chest tightens. Jason was so sweet to me. But so was Isaac. So was Nathan.

Then he killed himself.

I can’t want Jason. I can’t want someone like him. I need stable, and he’s the opposite.

My phone vibrates again, and my entire body freezes. What if it’s Momma? I can’t talk to her. I’m not ready. But when I check it, I see Jane’s name.

ditched mom 4 the day—she’s being pissy. show me around!
she wrote.

I type back,
Where are you?

We spend the next ten minutes working out logistics. I push down lingering nervousness as I get dressed. She didn’t say anything about last night. Is Momma angry?

I groan. My mother is the last person I want to think about. Spending the day with Jane is exactly what I need right now to keep my thoughts occupied.

As I’m heading out of my dorm, a thought pops into my head and I grin. I pull out my phone and dial a number I haven’t called in a while.

Jane is going to love me.

*   *   *

With Yoon Jae’s back turned, Jane raises her eyebrows sky-high and mouths,
He’s gorgeous!
She mimes swooning, and I stifle a giggle.

The subway lurches to a stop, and we shove our way out onto the platform. Yoon Jae turns to make sure we’re with him, and he smiles at me. I smile back, then look to Jane, who dramatically fans herself.

We take Jane into Seoul, to Myeongdong, a gigantic shopping area famous for cosmetics stores. It’s a popular date spot, too, Yoon Jae tells us, but there’re also lots of businessmen and tourists. The crowds are thick, but the upbeat atmosphere and tasty street food are worth it. We spend a couple hours browsing, Yoon Jae keeping his head down and hat’s bill pulled low, then grab lunch at a local place Jane picks. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, leaving me and Yoon Jae at the table.

When I called him, I worried what Jason would say but quickly decided it didn’t matter. Yoon Jae’s still my friend. Which is what I told Jason when I informed him of my plans. He couldn’t really argue after that.

“It’s official,” I say to Yoon Jae. “My sister’s in love with you, just like I thought.”

He lets out a self-conscious laugh. “She’s a nice girl.”

“She takes after me, obviously.”

Despite my sarcasm, he nods. “Yes, she does.”

Jane returns, and she grills Yoon Jae about everything—his life, music career, future plans. I bump her elbow with mine when she asks about his past girlfriends, but he doesn’t seem to take offense.

“I’ve only had one girlfriend,” he says. “It was two years ago, back when my label hadn’t given me any rules against dating.”

“They have rules against dating?” The disappointment is obvious in her voice.

“Yeah, most Korean singers aren’t allowed to have girlfriends or boyfriends, but now that Eden is broken up, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

She perks. “So you’re in the market for a new one, then?” she asks.

I gasp. “Jane!”

“What?” She shrugs.

Yoon Jae laughs, but I spot the redness creeping up his neck.

We head back outside, and Jane gets caught up in perusing a skin-care shop that’s really famous in Asia. She throws a grin over her shoulder at me, and I can’t help smiling in response. She loves it here.