Page 24 of Wanna Bet?

He shrugged one shoulder. “Car accident, a couple years ago.”

“I’m–” She stopped herself. The automatic sorry felt too small, too rehearsed, too flimsy for something that big.

He didn’t look like he wanted pity anyway.

So she went with honesty. “That’s really shitty,” she said.

His mouth twitched faintly. “Yeah. It was.”

They sat in the truth of it together while the wind stirred the leaves above them. Myah picked at a blade of grass, twisting it between her fingers. She felt like she needed to tell him something as equally deep and sad.

“My mom died when I was five,” she said after a moment.

His eyes snapped back to her.

She kept her gaze on the ground. “Cancer. I don’t remember her voice. Just pictures.” She shrugged like it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t a hollow space she still felt sometimes. “My dad’s still alive though, unfortunately.”

That got a quiet huff of laughter out of him. “Unfortunately?” he echoed.

“He’s the kind of guy who thinks parenting is optional if you’re busy,” she said. “And he’s been busy for about twenty years.”

Jace didn’t look at her with pity. He looked at her with understanding. And somehow that was worse, because it made her feel seen. Her throat tightened and her mouth felt suddenly dry.

She forced a grin. “Anyway, trauma bonding complete. We’re basically best friends now.”

He didn’t laugh. He just watched her. “You joke a lot when things matter,” he said gently.

Her heart slammed once, hard. Alarm bells rang instantly.

He sees you. Abort. Retreat. Deflect.

She flicked his knee lightly. “And you analyze people when you’re high. That’s suspicious behavior.”

That finally made him smile again, but he didn’t look away from her.

“You don’t have to joke with me,” he said.

Her chest squeezed tight.

Too close. Too real.

She leaned back on her hands and tilted her face toward the sky. “Too bad I like joking.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward. It was just still. She could feel his presence beside her the way you could feel warmth from a fire even without looking at it.

Her brain whispered again: You like him.

She shoved the thought down hard.

This is BPD brain. You always do this. You meet someone nice and suddenly they’re everything. You build castles out of eye contact. You fall too fast, too hard, too much.

Her ex-girlfriend's face flashed across her mind, smiling while lying, kissing someone else like Myah had never existed at all. The memory snapped something taut inside her.

Careful. Don’t spiral. Don’t attach. Don’t ruin it.

Beside her, Jace spoke softly. “I didn’t used to talk about them.”

She turned her head. “Your parents?”