Chapter 41
Colby jumped, tripped over nothing, collided with Jason’s bed, and caught himself. His face was pale.
Jason froze. Couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Anything might be the wrong thing.
He didn’t know exactly what he’d done. He had an idea. He didn’t know what could help, if anything could.
“Jason…” Colby’s voice cracked, stumbled back into tune, hauled anchors under itself like the Steadfastriding out a storm. “It—it’s not you—you didn’t do anything. I only thought—for a second I thought—or, no, that’s not right, I couldn’tthink—”
It’d been his hand. Jason knew it had, knew it all at once. Comprehension like a bullet. His hand. Powerful and forceful over bruises. On the heels of memory.
He whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Colby, still pale and still naked but straightening shoulders, took a step back toward him as if picking the only safe path across treacherous ice. “It’s me. Reacting. I—I’m sorry.”