Chapter 33
“…sure. Yeah. Whatever you want.”
“I only thought I should ask because it’s a bit personal. You don’t need to answer, of course.”
They regarded each other in the pause. The wind crackled in, sharp and autumn-tipped and prescient as a prophecy. Clouds gathered up steely knives overhead, getting ready to fling them down.
Jason said, “I’ll probably answer. Go ahead.”
“If you’re certain. I suppose I can ask it first, and then if you’d rather not answer, you don’t have to, once you know—”
“Just ask.”
“Oh. Er…are you at all anxious about tomorrow? About the stunt dive?”
The wind faded. The world faded: shocked and pale, for an instant uncomprehending, struck by a bullet seen but not quite yet felt.
Jason, motionless, stumbled through, “Why would you ask that?” Everything lurched and swung, hanging on gossamer precarity. His own emotions. His need for this role. The knowledge that he said he’d be fine. The knowledge that he wasn’t.