“Jin?” The way he says my name jerks me back to the present. “Yeah.” I swallow and point toward the stairs. “I should, uh . . .” “And there it is.” His voice hardens a touch. I frown. “There what is?” “You avoiding me.” I stiffen. “I don’t.” “You do.” His eyes narrow. “Every time I enter a room, you’re out of it in less than five minutes. You’re ready to bolt right now.” Self-preservation.
