ElsieSilverisaCanadianauthorofsassy,sexy,smalltownromancewholovesagoodbookboyfriendandthestrongheroineswhobringthemtotheirknees.ShelivesjustoutsideofVancouver,BritishColumbiawithherhusband,son,andthreedogsandhasbeenvoraciouslyreadingromancebookssincebeforeshewasprobablysupposedto.
Shelovescookingandtryingnewfoods,traveling,andspendingtimewithherboys—especiallyoutdoors.Elsiehasalsobecomeabigfanofherquietfiveo’clockmornings,whichiswhenmostofherwritinghappens.It’sduringthistimethatshecansipacupofhotcoffeeanddreamupafictionalworldfullofromanticstoriestosharewithherreaders.
www.elsiesilver.com
AlsobyElsieSilver
Flawless
Heartless
PowerlessPowerless
ElsieSilver
PIATKUS
FirstpublishedinGreatBritainin2023byPiatkus
Copyright?2023byElsieSilver
ExcerptfromRecklesscopyright?2023byElsieSilver
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www.littlebrown.co.ukFortheoneswho’vespenttheirlivesbeingjustalittle*too*agreeable.
Here’stogettingcomfortabledisappointingotherpeopletoavoiddisappointingyourself.Thetruthisweonlyhavecontroloverafinitenumberofthingsinlife.Therestisafuckingcrapshoot.
—KandiSteinerTableofContents
ReaderNote
Prologue:Sloane,ageten
1:Jasper
2:Sloane
3:Jasper
4:Sloane
5:Jasper
6:Sloane
7:Jasper
8:Sloane
9:Jasper
10:Jasper
11:Sloane
12:Jasper
13:Jasper
14:Sloane
15:Sloane
16:Jasper
17:Sloane
18:Sloane
19:Jasper
20:Sloane
21:Sloane
22:Jasper
23:Jasper
24:Sloane
25:Jasper
26:Sloane
27:Jasper
28:Sloane
29:Jasper
30:Sloane
31:Jasper
32:Jasper
33:Jasper
34:Sloane
35:Sloane
36:Jasper
37:Sloane
38:Jasper
39:Sloane
40:Sloane
Epilogue:Jasper
RecklessSneakPeek:ComingJune2023
Acknowledgments
TheElsieSilverSaloonReaderNote
Thisbookcontainsadultmaterialincludingchildhoodtrauma,deathofafamilymember,andanxiety.ItismyhopethatI’vehandledthesetopicswiththecaretheydeserve.PrologueSloane,ageten
MycardoorisopenbeforemyparentshaveputtheBentleyinpark.Myfeethitthegraveldrivewaybeforethey’veevenmanagedtogetoutofthecar.Inawhooshofbreath,myarmswraparoundmycousinViolet.Wealmostbowleachotheroverontothedirtdrivewaywiththeforceofourhug.
Shesmellslikegreengrass,horses,andsweetsummerfreedom.
“Imissedyou!”IsquealasVioletpullsawayandgrinsmischievouslyatme
“Imissedyoutoo.”
Icatchmymomstaringatus,happyandsadallatonce.Ilooklikemymom,andVioletlookslikehers.ExceptViolet’smomdied,andmymomlosthersister.Ialwaysthinkshelikesbringingmeoutherebecauseshefeelsclosetohersisterwhenshe’sontheranch.
ItalsomakesitmoreconvenientformyparentstotraveltotheirfavoritespotsinEurope.Mydadsaidsomethingaboutitbeinggoodformeto“seehowtheotherhalflives.”I’mnottotallysurewhatthatmeans,butIsawmymom’slipsclampdownoneachotherwhenhesaidit.
Eitherway,InevercomplainbecauseafullmonthatWishingWellRanchwiththeEatonfamilymeansIgettohangoutandhavefunwithmycousins.Therulesarelax.Thecurfewsdon’texist.AndIgettorunwildforfourfullweekseverysummer.
“Robert,Cordelia.”UncleHarveyreachesforwardtoshakemydad’shandbeforegivingmymomatightsqueezethatleavesherblinkingalittletooquicklyasshepeersoutovertheflatfarmfieldsandjaggedmountainsbehindthem.“Nicetoseeyouboth.”
Theystarttalkingaboutboringadultstuff,butIdon’thearthembecausemyothercousinswalkoutofthebigranchhouse.Cade,Beau,andRhettjogdownthefrontstairs,jokingandshovingandroaminglikeapack.
Andthenthey’refollowedbyonemoreboy.OneIdon’trecognize.Onewhoimmediatelyhasmyattention.Onewithlong,lankylimbs,caramel-coloredhair,andthebluesteyesI’veeverseen.
ThesaddesteyesI’veeverseen.
Whenthatboyslideshisgazeovertome,there’snothingbutcuriosityonhisface.Ijerkmyheadawayallthesame,feelinghotsplotchespopuponmycheeks.
Mymommovesbesideme,pattingmeonthehead.“Sloane,youneedtorememberyoursunscreen.Youalreadylooktoohot,andyouspendsomuchtimeinthedancestudio,yourskinisn’tusedtothisexposure.”
Herfussingonlymakesmeblushharder.I’malmostelevenandshe’smakingmeseemlikeababyinfrontofeveryone.
Igivemyeyesapetulantrollandmumble,“Iknow.Iwill,”beforetakingViolet’shandandstormingoff.
Wegoinsideanduptomyguestroom,searchingforsomeprivacywhileeveryoneelsestandsaroundoutsideandmakessmalltalk.
Violetflopsonthemattressandannounces,“Tellmeeverything.”
Igiggleandpushmyhairbehindmyears,drawntothewindowthatoverlooksthedriveway.“Aboutwhat?”
“School?Thecity?Whatdoyouwannadothissummer?Just…everything.I’msohappythere’sagirlhere.Thisplacestinkslikeboysallthetime.”
Outthewindow,Iseethemysteryboyshakinghandswithmyparents.Inotethedistasteonmyfather’sface.Thepityonmymother’s.
“Who’stheotherguy?”Iask,unabletolookaway.
“Oh.”Violet’svoicegetsalittlequiet.“That’sJasper.He’soneofusnow.”
Iturntoher,eyebrowquirked,handsonmyhips,tryingtoplayitcool,likeI’mnottoointerested,butnotreallyknowinghowtoachievethateither.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Sherollsuptositcross-leggedonthebedandshrugs.“Heneededafamilysowetookhimin.Idon’tknowallthedetails.Therewasanaccident.Beaubroughthimhereonedaylastfall.Iliketothinkofhimasonemorestinkybrother.Youcanjustthinkofhimlikeanewcousin.”
Myheadcantsasmyheartbattleswithmybrain.
MyheartwantstostareoutthewindowagainbecauseJasperissocuteandstaringathimmakesitdothisweirdlittleskippingthinginmychest
Mybrainknowsit’sstupid,becauseifhe’sfriendswithBeau,hemustbeatleastfifteen.
ButIcan’tstopmyself.
Ilookanyway.
WhatIdon’trealizeisthatI’llbefightingtheurgetostareatJasperGervaisforyearstocome.1Jasper
SloaneWinthrop’sfiancéisaroyaldouchebag.
I’mfamiliarwiththetype.Youdon’tworkyourwayintotheNHLwithoutencounteringyourfairshare.
Andthisguyhastheactdownpat.
AsifthenameSterlingWoodcockwasn’tenoughofagiveaway,he’snowbraggingaboutthehuntingtripheandhisdadspenthundredsofthousandsofdollarsontokilllionsbornandbredincaptivity,likethatwillsomehowmaketheirdicksbigger.
FromtheRolexonhiswristtohismanicurednails,he’sdrippingwealth,andIguessitonlymakessensethatSloanemightendupwithamanlikehim.Afterall,theWinthropsareoneofthemostpowerfulfamiliesinthecountrywithwhatisdamnnearamonopolyonthetelecommunicationsindustry.
Asherambles,IglanceatSloaneacrossthetable.Hersky-blueeyesaredowncast,andshe’sclearlyfiddlingwiththenapkininherlap.Shelookslikeshe’dratherbeanywherebuthereinthisdimlylit,ornatesteakhouse.
AndIfeelaboutthesame.
Listeningtohersmall-dickedfuturehusbandboasttoatablefulloffamilyandfriendsI’venevermetaboutsomethingthatishonestlyembarrassing—andsad—isn’thowI’dchoosetospendanightoff.
ButI’mhereforSloane,andthat’swhatIkeeptellingmyself.
Becauseseeingherrightnow,alldowntroddenmerenightsbeforeherwedding…itfeelslikesheneedssomeoneherewhoactuallyknowsher.TherestoftheEatoncrewcouldn’tmakeitintothecitytonight,butIpromisedherI’dcome.
AndforSloaneIkeepeverypromise,nomatterhowbadlytheyhurt.
Iexpectedhertobesmiling.Glowing.Iexpectedtobehappyforher—butI’mnot.
“Youhunt,Jasper?”Sterlingasks,allpoisedandpretentious.
Thecollarofmycheckereddressshirtfeelslikeit’sstranglingme,eventhoughIleftthetopbuttonsundone.Iclearmythroatandrollmyshouldersback.“Ido.”
Sterlingpicksupthecrystaltumblerbeforehimandleansbacktoassessmewithasmugsmirkonhisperfectlyshavedface.“Anybiggame?You’denjoyatriplikethis.”Peoplewhodon’tknowmenodandmurmurtheirassent.
“Idon’tknowif—”Sloanestarts,butherfiancésteamrollsherattemptataddingtotheconversation.
“Weallsawwhatyourlastcontractcameinat.Notbadforagoalie.Soprovidedyou’vebeenresponsiblewithyourmoney,it’ssomethingyoushouldbeabletoafford.”
LikeIsaid:douchebag.
Ibitetheinsideofmycheek,temptedtosayI’vebeenhorriblyirresponsiblewithmymoneyanddon’thaveadollartomyname.Butaslowbrowasmyupbringingmighthavebeen,Ihaveenoughclasstoknowthatfinancesaren’tpolitedinnerconversation.
“Nah,man.IonlyhuntwhatIcaneat,andI’munfamiliarwithhowtocookalion.”
Afewchucklesbreakoutaroundthetable,includingfromSloane.Idon’tmissthequickmomentwhereSterling’seyesnarrow,wherehisteethclampandhisjawpops.
Sloanejumpsinquickly,pattinghisarmlikehe’sadogwhoneedssoothing.Icanalmostfeelherslenderfingersonmyownarmandabsentlyfindmyselfwishingitweremeshewastouchinginstead.“IusedtohuntwithmycousinsoutinChestnutSpringstoo,youknow?”
I’mtossedbackintime,rememberingayoungSloanekeepingupwiththeboysallsummer.Sloanewithdirtunderhernails,scrapesonherknees,sun-bleachedhairalltangledandfreedownherback.
“It’smoreaboutthethrill,youknow?Thepower.”SterlingignoresSloane’scommententirely.
Helooksatmelikeanopponent,exceptwearen’tplayinghockeyrightnow.Ifwewere,I’dgivehimaquickblockershottotheface.
“DidyounothearwhatSloanejustsaid?”I’mtryingtobecool,butIhatethewayhe’streatedherthroughthisentiredinner.Idon’tknowhowsheendeduphere.She’smybestfriend.She’seloquent,andsmart,andfunny—doeshenotseethatatall?Doeshenotseeher?
Sterlingwavesahandandchuckles.“Ah,yes.I’malwayshearingaboutWishingWellRanch.”Heturnstoherwithacondescendingtoneandamockingsmirk.“Well,thankgoodnessyououtgrewwhatevertomboyphaseyouwentthrough,babe.You’dhavemissedyourcallingasaballerina.”
Hisshittyresponseisworsenedbymyrealizationthatheheardwhatshesaidandchosetoignoreher.
“Ican’tevenimagineyouhandlingagun,Sloane!”oneguyfurtherdownthelongtableexclaims,hisnoseadeepredfromfartoomuchscotch.
“Iwasgood,actually.IthinkIonlyhitsomethingaliveonce.”Shelaughslightlyandshakesherhead,brightblondestrandsofhairslippingdowninfrontofherfacebeforeshepushesthembackbehindherearsanddropshereyeswithafaintblush.“AndthenIcriedinconsolably.”
HerlipsrolltogetherandI’mentranced.InstantlyimaginingthingsIshouldn’tbe.
“Irememberthatday.”Iglanceacrossthetableather.“Youcouldn’teveneatthevenisonfordinnerthatnight.Wealltriedtoconsoleyou—itdidn’twork.”Myheadtipsatthevividwalkdownmemorylane.
“Andthatrightthere”—SterlingpointsatSloanewithoutevensparingheraglance—“iswhywomendon’tbelongouthunting.Tooupsetting.”
Sterling’sovergrownfratbuddiesguffawathislamecomment,whichurgeshimtogoallinonhisassholery.Heholdshisglassuphighandlooksdownatthetable.“Tokeepingwomeninthekitchen!”
There’slaughterandasmatteringofpeopleoffering“cheers”and“here,here.”
Sloanedabsthewhiteclothnapkinoverherfulllipswithaprimsmilebutkeepshereyesfixedontheemptyplacesettingbeforeher.Sterlinggoesbacktogloatingwiththeotherguests—ignoringthewomansittingbesidehim.
Ignoringthepieceofherselfshetriedtosharewithhim.Ignoringthewayheembarrassedher.
Mypatienceforthisnightisquicklydwindling.Theurgetoslinkintothebackgroundisoverwhelming.
Sloanecatchesmyeyeacrossthetableandgivesmeoneofherpracticedsmiles.Iknowit’sfakebecauseI’veseenherrealsmile.
Andthisisn’tit.
It’sthesamesmileshegavemewhenItoldherIcouldn’tgotopromwithherasherdate.Takingatwenty-four-year-oldNHLplayerwasn’tappropriateforeitherofus,andIwastheassholewhohadtotellherthat.
Ismileback,feelingfrustrationbuildinsidemeoverthefactshe’sabouttotieherselftosomeonewhotreatsherlikeanaccessory,whodoesn’tlistentoher.Orappreciatethatshe’slayeredandcomplex,andnotjustthepolishedprincessshe’sbeenmoldedintobyherfamily.
Oureyesstaylocked,andhercheeksstarttoflushpink.Sheshimmieshershouldersback,andmygazedropstohercollarbones.SuddenlyIseemyselftrailingmytonguethere.Makinghersquirm.
Myeyessnapbackuptoherface.LikemaybeI’vebeencaught.Asthoughshecouldsomehowhearwhat’sinmyhead.BecausewebothknowIcan’tbelookingatherlikethat.She’smightaswellbefamily.Andworse,sheofficiallybelongstoanotherman.
Sterlingcatchestheexchangeandturnshisattentiontomeonceagain.Itmakesmyskincrawl.“Sloanetellsmeyou’vebeenfriendsforalongtime.Pardonmyconfusion,butarougharoundtheedgeshockeyplayerdoesn’tseemlikehe’dbefriendswithaprimaballerina.Ofcourse,Ihaven’tseenyouaroundmuchsincesheandIgottogether.Somethingkeepingyouaway?”Hedrapesanarmoverhershoulderinashowofpossession,andItrynottofixateonthegesture.
“Tobefair,Ihaven’theardmuchaboutyoueither.”Isayitwithenoughhumorinmytonethatanyonemissingthewaywe’reglaringmightnotevenpickuponthejab.Ileanback,crossingmyarmsovermychest.“Butyeah.IguessI’mnottoorougharoundtheedgestobetheonethatbringsoverPolysporinandpainkillerswhenmyfriend’sfeetaretoorawfromdancinginpointeshoestoevenwalk.”
“I’vetoldyouthis.”Sloane’svoiceisplacating.“Hehelpedmemoveintomynewcondo.Sometimeswegrabcoffee.Simplethingslikethat.”
“Basically,sheknowsifsheneedssomething,I’llbethere,”Iaddwithoutthinking.
Sloaneshootsmealook,probablywonderingwhyI’mactinglikeaterritorialasshole.I’mwonderingthesamething,tobehonest.
“Goodthingyou’vegotmeforallthatnow.”SterlingisrespondingtoSloane,buthe’sstaringatme.ThenheabruptlyplacesapalmoverSloane’shandsthatarenowproppedonthetable.Theonesstillpullingathernapkinanxiously.Butthewayhetouchesherisn’tsoothingorsupportive.It’saswat,areproachforfidgeting.
Itsendsfuryracingthroughmyveins.IneedtogetawaybeforeIdosomethingI’llreallyregret.
“Well,I’mgoingtoheadoutforthenight,”Iannouncesuddenly,pushingmychairback,desperateforfreshairandabreakfromthedarkwallsandvelvetdraperypressinginaroundme.
“Bettergetagoodsleepin,Gervais.You’llneedittogetthinssrollinsfortheGrizzliesthisseason.Afterlastseason,you’reprobablyonthinice.”
Ipullatthecuffsofmyshirtandforcemyselftoignorethejab.“Thankyouforinvitingme,Woodcock.Dinnerwasdelicious.”
“Sloaneinvitedyou,”ishispetulantreply,clarifyingthathedoesnotlikeme—ormypresence.
Istaredownathimblanklyandhitchonesideofmymouthup.LikeIcan’tquitebelievewhataragingprickheis.Icanfeeleyesonusnow,otherpeoplepickinguponwhateverunspokentensionisbetweenus.“Well,that’swhatfriendsarefor.”
“Wait,butyou’rehercousin,right?”Thedrunkguy’sscotchspillsovertherimofhistumblerandontohishandashepointsatme.
Idon’tknowwhySloaneandIhavealwaysbeensoadamantthatwe’refriendsandnotcousins.IfsomeonetriedtotellmethatBeau,orRhett,orCadewasn’tmybrother,I’dwritethemoffimmediately.Thosemenaremybrothers.
ButSloane?She’smyfriend.
“Actually,he’smyfriend,notmycousin.”Sloanetosseshernapkinontopofthewhitelinen-coveredtablewithmoreforcethannecessary.
Thepeoplegatheredforherweddingstare.
Herweddingthisweekend.
Mystomachtwists.
“Willyoubeatthestagpartytomorrow,Gervais?”thedrunkguycontinues.Hehiccupsandgrinsstupidly,remindingmeofthedrunkmouseattheMadHatter’sunbirthdayparty.“WouldlovetosayIpartiedwithhockey-superstarJasperGervais.”
Colormesurprisedthattheonlyreasonaguylikethiswantsmearoundistoboosthisreputation.
“Can’t.I’vegotagame.”Mysmileistight,butmyreliefisimmenseasIrisefrommychair.
“I’llwalkyouout,”Sloanepipesup,clearlymissingthesharplookSterlingslicesherway.Orshe’sjustpretendingshedoesn’tnotice.
Eitherway,IholdonehandopenandgestureSloaneaheadofmeasweweaveourwaysilentlyacrosstherestaurant.
Igotopressmypalmagainstthesmallofherbacktoguideherthrough,butshetenses,andIjerkmyhandawayatthefeelofsmooth,bareskinburningmyfingertips.MyeyesfindthefloorasIshovethetinglinghandintomypocketwhereitbelongs.
Becauseitsureasshitdoesn’tbelongonthebarebackofanengagedwoman.
Evenifsheisjustmyfriend.
It’sonlyaswenearthefrontoftherestaurantthatIglanceupagain.Sloane’sslenderframeswaysasshestridesacrosstheroom.Everymovementsteepedinaninherentgrace—onethatcomeswithyearsoftraining.Yearsofpractice
Shesmilespolitelyatthema?tred’andthenwalksfaster,likeshecanseefreedomthroughthatheavyfrontdoorandisdesperateforit.Hershouldersdropandherentirebodysags,almostinrelief,whensherestsbothhandsflatagainstthedarkslabofwood.
IwatchherforamomentbeforeIstepupbehindher,theheatofherbodyseepingouttowardmine.ThenIreachonearmaboveherpetiteframeandpushthedooropen,usheringusbothoutintothecoolNovembernight.
IjambothhandsintothepocketsofmyslacksnowsoIdon’tgrabhershouldersandshakeher,demandingtoknowwhatthehellshe’sdoingmarryingaguywhotreatsherlikeSterlingWoodcockdoes.Becauseit’sreallynoneofmybusiness.
Hertoned,barebackistomeasshefacesthebusycitystreet,carlightsablurofwhiteandredjustbeyondher,mistyairpuffingoverhershoulderlikeshe’stryingtocatchherbreath.
“Youokay?”
HerheadnodsfuriouslybeforesheturnsbackaroundwiththatweirdStepford-wifesmileplasteredbackonherdaintyface.
“Youdon’tlookfine.”Myfingerswraparoundthekeysinmypocketandjanglethemanxiously.
“Shit,thanks,Jas.”
“Imean,youlookbeautiful,”Irushout,grimacingwhenInotehereyeswidening.“Youalwaysdo.Youjustdon’tlook…happy?”
Sheblinksslowly,theedgesofhermouthturningdownintoaslightfrown.“Isthatsupposedtobebetter?Beautifulandunhappy?’’
God.I’mreallyblowingit.Irakeahandthroughmyhair.“Areyouhappy?Doeshemakeyouhappy?”
Hermouthpopsopeninshock,andIknowI’moutofline,orsteppinginit,orwhatever.Butsomeoneneedstoaskher,andIdoubtanyonehas.
Ineedtohearhersayit.
Herpalecheeksflushandhereyesnarrowasshestepsuptome,jawtight.“You’reaskingmethisnow?”
Ihuffoutabreathandrunmytopteethovermybottomlip,eyestotallyfixedonherbabyblues,sowideandpaleandsparkingwithindignation.“Yeah.Hasanyoneelseaskedyou?”
Shedropsmygaze,herhandsplantingagainsthercheeksbeforepushingbackthroughhercollarbone-lengthblondehair.“Noonehasaskedme.”
Theteethofmyhousekeydigintothepalmofmyhand.“HowdidyoumeetSterling?”
“Mydadintroducedus.”Hereyesfixateontheblacksky.It’sstarless,notlikeattheranchwhereyoucanseeeverylittlefleckoflight.EverythinginthecityfeelspollutedcomparedtoChestnutSprings.IdecideonthespottodriveouttomyplaceinthecountrytonightratherthanspendanothernightbreathingthesameairasSterlingWoodcock.
“Howdoesheknowhim?”
Hereyesmeetmine.“Sterling’sdadisanewbusinesspartnerofhis.He’sfocusedonmakingnewconnectionsnowthathe’sbackinthecity.”
“Andyou’veknownthisguyforhowlongagain?”
Hertonguedartsoutfrombetweenherlips.“WemetinJune.”
“Fivemonths?”MybrowarchesandIrearback.IftheyseemedmadlyinloveIcouldbuyit,but…
“Don’tjudgeme,Jasper!”Hereyesflashandshestepscloseragain.Imaydwarfherinheightbutshe’snottheleastbitintimidated.She’sspittingmadrightnow.Madatme.ButIthinkthat’sjustbecauseshetrustsmeenoughtoletherangerout,andI’mokaywithlettingher.I’mhappytobethatpersonforher.
Hervoiceshakeswhensheadds,“YouhavenoideathepressuresIlivewith.”
Withoutthinkingtwice,Ipullherintomychestandwrapmyarmsaroundhernarrowshoulders.She’salltenseandriled.IswearIcanalmostfeelhervibratingwithit.“I’mnotjudgingyou,Sunny.”
Apparently,thisisn’tthetimeforchildhoodnicknames.
“Don’tcallmethat.”Hervoicecracksasshepressesherforeheadtomychest,likeshealwayshas,andIslidemypalmdownthebackofherhair,cuppingthebaseofherskull.
LikeIalwayshave.
IabsentlywonderwhatSterlingwouldsayifhewalkedouthererightnow.There’sapettypartofmethatwantshimto.
“I’msimplycurioushowthingshappenedsofast.I’mcuriouswhyI’venevermethimuntilnow.”Myvoiceisquiet,allgravel,almostdrownedoutbythehushofcarsrushingpastus.
“Well,it’snotlikeIhavealotoffreetimewiththeballet.Andit’snotlikeyou’vebeenintouchlatelyeither.”
Guiltnipsatme,makingmychesttwist.Ourteamcameoffabadseason,andIpromisedmyselfI’dtrainharderthanIeverhaveduringtheoff-season.“IwastrainingandlivingoutinChestnutSprings.”That’snotalie.Mybrother’sfiancéeopenedahellofagymthere,andIsawnoreasontospendmysummerinthecity.“Andthenitwastrainingcamp,andIgotsweptup.”
Alsotrue.
ThelieisthatIwastoobusytomaketimeforher.Icouldhavemadetimeforher.ButIdidn’t.BecauseIknewherdadwasbackinthecity,andIavoidhimatallcosts.AndtheannouncementofherengagementguttedmeinawayIneversawcoming.
“Ishouldhavetoldyou,notsprungitonyouthewaythatIdid,”shemurmurs,andIbrushawaythememoryofVioletblurtingoutthenewsofSloane’sengagementattheranchmeremonthsago.ThewayIinstantlyfrozeupinside.Thewaymyheartdroppedintomystomachwithaheavythud.
Iswoopahandoverherheadandgivehershouldersasqueeze,stilltryingtoavoidthatwarm,barepatchofskinonherback,andreplywith,“Ishouldhaveasked.I’vejustbeen…busy.Ididn’tthinkyourlifewouldjust…happenthisfast.”Andthatpartistrue.
Herbodyrelaxesinmyarms,softbreastspressingagainstmyribsasherfingersdigintomyback.Butonlyforamomentbeforeshepullsaway.Thehugwentonlongenoughthatitwasmoreofanembrace.Itwastoeingtheline.
ButIstillwanttopullherbackin.
“Well,itis.”Shestaresdownandbrushesatthesleeveofherpalegreendress,silkyandshimmeringintheshadowylight.“MydadandIagreeditwasbesttomoveforwardwiththeweddinginthefallratherthandrawingitout.”
ThatcommenthasmyteethclampingdownbecausethemerementionofRobertWinthropsetsmeonedge.Andhimtakingpartinherdecisiontogetmarriedhasallsortsofalarmbellsgoingoff.
“Why?”Mybrowknits.Ishouldknowbetter.Ishouldwalkaway.Ishouldletherbehappy.
Ishouldn’tbethisbothered.Ifsheactuallyseemedhappy,Iwouldn’tbe.
OrmaybeIwould.
Shewavesahandandglancesoverhershoulderintotherestaurant,exposingherelegantneckasshedoes.“Multiplefactors,”shereplieswithadefeatedshrug.It’slikesheknowshertimewithmeisdwindling.Idon’tgetthesensethatSterlingisgoingtobethetypeofhusbandthat’sokaywithherandmebeingfriends.
“Factors?Likeyoujustcan’twaittobeMrs.Woodcock?Becausenoonewantsthatasalastname.Oristhisyourdadpressuringyou?”
HerblueeyesflareatthementionofherdadbecauseSloanedoesn’tseehimasasnake.Neverhas.She’stoobusybeingtheperfectdaughter—andnowafiancée.Onewho’sgoodonpaperanddoesn’tgohunting.“Andwhatifheis?I’mtwenty-eight.Mybestdancingyearsaredrawingtoaclose.Ineedtosettledown,comeupwithalifeplan.He’slookingoutforme.”
Ihuffoutanagitatedlaughandshakemyheadather.“Where’sthewildgirlIremember?ThegirlwhodancedintherainandwouldcrawlontotheroofsoIdidn’thavetobealoneonthebadnights?”
They’vemoldedthatgirlintoapawn.AndIhatethatforher.We’veneverfought,butsuddenlymyurgetofightforherconsumesmybetterjudgment.
“Yourdadisanasshole.Hecaresabouthimself.Hisbusiness.Optics.Notyourhappiness.Youdeservebetter.”
Icoulddobetter.That’swhatIreallywanttosay.That’swhatI’verealizedsittingheretonight.
ThatI’mthinkingthingsIshouldn’tbe.
WantingthingsIcan’thave.
BecauseI’mtoolate.
ShelurchesbacklikeI’vestruckher,lipsthinninginangerassheflushesallthewaydownherchest.“No,Jasper.Yourdadisasanasshole.Minelovesme.Youjustdon’tknowwhatthatlookslike.”
Shespinsonherheel,yankingtherestaurantdooropenwithalevelofviolencethatisunfamiliarcomingfromher.
ButI’drathersheshowviolencethanapathy.Thatmeansthewildgirlisstillintheresomewhere.
Shehurledwordsatmethatshouldhurt.ButIjusthurtforher.Becausemybiologicaldadisanasshole.Butthemanwhoreallyraisedme?HarveyEaton?He’sthebestofthebest.Heshowedmelove,andIcanidentifyitjustfine.
Plus,IrememberhowSloanelooksatamanwhenshereallywantshim.Andsheisn’tlookingatherfiancéthewaysheusedtolookatme.
I’mmorepleasedaboutthatthanIshouldbe.2Sloane
Sloane:Areyouhere?
Jasper:WhereelsewouldIbe?
Sloane:Ithoughtyoumightbemadatme.Pleasedon’thateme.
Jasper:Icouldneverhateyou,Sunny.
Ifeelsick.
ThedayI’vedreamtofsinceIwasalittlegirlisfinallyhere,butit’snothinglikeIimagined.
It’ssnowing.AndI’vealwayswantedaspringwedding.
It’sinanornatechurchdowntown.AndIwantedacozycountryaffair.
It’saspectaclewithhundredsofpeopleinattendance.AndallIwantedwassomethingsmallandintimate.
Worstofall,themanI’mgoingtowalkdowntheaisletowardisn’ttheoneIseewhenIclosemyeyes.Heisn’ttheoneI’vewantedforthebetterpartofmylife.
I’vegivenupsothoroughlythatI’msettlingforapersonIdon’tlove.OnewhoI’msureIdon’tevenlike,anditmakesmesick.
No,thisdayisnothinglikeIimagined.
MycousinVioletfiddleswiththebobbypinsinmyhairwhileIsitatastainedwoodvanitywithmyhandsclampedaroundeachotherinmylap,coveringthemassivediamondonmyringfinger.IfIkeepthemthere,squeezinguntilithurts,itwillpreventmefromcrying.
Ordoingsomethingstupidlikerunning.
“Idon’tknowwhereitis.Ican’tseeanythingwiththewaythey’vegotitalltwistedup.”
“It’sthere.Icanfeelitpulling.It’stootight.Ithurts.”
Shesighsandcatchesmyeyeinthemirror.“Yousureit’sthehair,Sloane?”
Itipmychinup,lengtheningmyneckandwatchingthecolumnofmythroatworkasIdo.“Yes.”IforcemyvoicetosoundsurerthanIfeelandletmymindgoblank,thewayitdoeswhenI’mperforming.WhenIleapandspinandthelightsarebrightandtheaudienceisdark,I’mcomfortable.
Withaheavysighandaconcernedglance,Violetdutifullygoesbacktosearchingforabobbypininmyhairthatsheisn’tsureexists.Shejustinsinuatedthatmyuncomfortableupdoissomeparallelformylife.
Icanreadbetweenthelines.
Shehasn’tsaidmuchaboutSterling.Noonehas—exceptforJasper.
Jasper
Ican’teventhinkofhisnamewithoutawaveofnauseahittingme.TheguiltoverthewordsIhurledathimtheothereveninghaseatenawayatme.Keptmeupatnight.Andthefinalityofknowingmyalreadyimpossiblechancewithhimwillendwithmemarryingsomeoneelseneverfailstocrackmychestopen.
JasperGervaisandIarefriends.Goodfriends.He’smadethatclearacoupletimesovernow.AndI’mnotenoughofamasochisttogoforthehattrick.
I’msureeveryonethinksI’moverhim,butthat’sonlybecauseI’vebecomeanexpertathidingmyfeelings.He’sconsumedeverycornerofmesinceIfirstlaideyesonhim,andhe’sneverlookedatmeasmorethanalittlesister.
Igrimacewhenliquidtricklesintomyhands.Iturnthemoverandpeerdown.AmaniclaughbubblesoutofmeasIstaredown.Bloodpoolslanguidlyintoaperfect,shinydropletinthemiddleofmypalm,almostlikeitdefiesgravity,justbyexisting.
Thepuncturefromwherethepointedclawofmyengagementringdugintauntsme,liketheuniverseknowsthismarriagewillmakemebleedinwaysthatnooneelsewillknoworsee.
Sterlingwouldn’tlayahandonme,buteverythingelseabouthim—aboutthislife—drainsme.
“Ohshit!Sloane!Youcan’tgetthatonyourdress.”Violet’shandspullawayinalarmbeforesherushesovertotheensuitebathroom,blacksatindressswishingagainsther.
Black.Again,Ilaugh.I’dneverhavechosenblackdressesformywedding.I’dchoosesomethinglightandwhimsical.Acelebratorycolor.
Butthen,thisisn’treallymywedding,anditisn’treallyacelebrationeither.Maybefuneralcolorsmakeperfectsense.
Ihaven’tbeenabletomustertheenergytocomplainaboutthethingsIdon’twant.AndIrealizenow,watchingthesmallorbofbloodtrickleintothecenterofmypalm,that’sbecauseIdon’twantthisweddingatall.
“Here.”Violetpressesawadoftoiletpaperagainstthepropheticcut,lookingdownrightterrifiedasshestaresatme.“Areyouokay?”
Ihuffoutacomposedbreath.“Yeah,yeah.It’snotlikeIlostalimborsomething.”
Thethoughtofanimalschewingofftheirownlimbstoescapeatrappopsupinmymind.
Violet’sbrowcrinkles.“Listen.Idon’twantyoutotakethisthewrongway,butIneedtoofferitjustonceorI’llneverforgivemyself.”
Mylipsquirkatherserioustone.“Okay.I’mlistening.”
Sherollshershouldersbackdramaticallyasshestaresatme.Reallystaresatme.Hard.I’minclinedtoglanceawaybutIdon’t.
“Ifyoudon’twantthis.”Herfreehandsignalsaroundus.“Ifyouneedanout.Ifyouneedagetawaycar.I’myourgirl.Iwon’tsayathing.Iwon’tjudgeyou.Butifthisisn’tright?Ifyouneedtorun?Like…”Shelooksawaymomentarily,lipsrollingtogetherassheweighshernextwordscarefully.“Blinktwiceorsomething.Okay?”
Idon’tblink,butatearspillsoutandrunsdownmycheek.
“Fuck,”mycousinbreathes.“Imadeyoucry.I’msorry.Ijusthadtothrowitoutthere.”
“Iloveyou,Violet.I’mnotsureI’veevertoldyouthat.Butyou?Yourfamily?Thoseweeksontherancheverysummeraresomeofthebestdaysofmylife.”
Hereyeswaterandsheblinksfrantically,cuppingmyhandsinhers.“Buttodayisbetter,right?”
Hereyessearchminesoearnestly,blueonblue.AllIcanmusterisasadsmile.Todayshouldbethehappiestdayofmylife,butit’snot,andIdon’twanttolietoher.
MylipsopenbeforeIevenknowwhatI’llsay,butmyphonelightsupanddingsloudlyonthevanitycounterinfrontofus.Savedbythebell.
Droppinghergaze,Ilurchformyphone,relievedbyhavinganout.It’satextfrom“PrivateNumber”andwhenItapatit,theonlymessageattachedis:Thoughtyoushouldseethis.
Belowthatisavideo.Withapreviewimagethatisstrikinglyfamiliar.
Ihittheplaybutton.
“Whatthehell?”Violet’shandlandsonmykneeasshepressesforwardtogetagoodviewofthescreen.
Thescreenlightsupwithagrainyvideo.Loudmusicthumps.Andwhat’shappeningfrontandcentershouldupsetme.Afterall,whatlooksfamiliarismyfiancédressedinthesamepoloshirtheworeonthenightofhisstag.
“Violet,canyougogetSterlingforme,please?”
Ishouldbedevastated.ButallIcanthinkasIwatchanakedwomanbounceonSterling’sdickisthatIwon’thavetochewoffmyownlimbafterall.3Jasper
Jasper:Vi,haveyouheardfromHarvey?Ihaven’tseenhimorBeauyet.
Violet:No.Butthingsjustwenttohellinhere.
Jasper:What’swrong?
Violet:SterlingWoodcockisapieceofshit.That’swhat.
Jasper:Whatthefuckdidhedotoher?
“Whoinventedtiesanyway?”Cadebitesoutfrombesideme.“They’refuckinguncomfortable.”He’stheoldestoftheEatonboys,thegrumpiest,andoneofmybiggestsupporters.
“Youlookridiculousinonetoo.”Rhettlaughswithashakeofhishead,alwaysharassinghisolderbrother.
Butit’sthemiddlebrother,Beau—whoI’mclosestwith—thatI’mreallylookingaroundfor.Thefactheisn’thereyetismakingmeantsy.
Hetriedtorequesthistimetolineupwiththewedding.He’ssupposedtohaveafewweeksoffathomebeforeheshipsbackout.Buthehasn’tshownupyetandneitherhasourdad,Harvey.
“Fuckyou,Fabio,”isCade’sagitatedretortashefiddleswiththetiearoundhisneck.MakingfunofRhett’slonghairisn’tnewterritory.I’vebeenwatchingthisexchangeforyears.
“Wherearethegirls?”Iask,tryingtogetthembothontrack.Theharpistisplaying.Peopleareminglinginfrontoftheimposingchurch.It’sgrayandcoldanddepressingoutside.AndallIwanttodoisrunaway.
“IfyoucallWillaagirl,she’llcastrateyou,”Cadegrumbles,yankingthetieoffandshovingitintohissuitcoatpocket.
“She’sgoingtocastrateyoufornotwearingthetieshepickedout.”Rhettchuckles.
“She’llgetoveritwhenItieherupwithitlater.”Cadeinspectsthefrontdoorsofthechurch—hisradaristhatperfectlyhoned—asWillapushesthedooropen,handslungprotectivelyoverthesmallbumpshe’ssporting.HereyessearchforCadeintheseaofpeople.Shesmilessoftlywhentheylandonhim,butitslipsawayquickly.
ThenSummer,herbestfriendandRhett’sfiancée,istheretoo.Theymovetowardusandbothlookalittlechagrined.
“Thatwasquitethebathroombreak,”Rhettannounceswhentheygetnearenoughtohearus.
SummersnugglesupunderhisarmwhileWillaregardsuswithawaryexpression.
“What’swrong?”Iask,gazebouncingbetweenthewomen.BecauseIcantellsomethingisup,andthey’renotsayingit.
“Willaisanosylittleeavesdropper,”Summersays.“That’swhat’swrong.”
“Shutup,Sum.It’snoteavesdroppingwhenyoucanhearapersonyellingfromtheothersideofacloseddoor.”
“Ithinkthatmightstilltechnicallybecalledeavesdropping,”CadesaysashepullsWillatowardhim.
Mybrainisstuckbackononeword.“Sorry.Whoisyelling?”
Summer’slipsrolltogether,darkeyeswideandconcerned.“Itwouldseemthebrideandgroomarehavingadisagreement.Andthegroomhasnovolumecontrol.”
“He’saslimylittleprick,”Willaaddssimply.“Icantelljustbylookingathim,”.
Beforeanyonesaysmore,I’minmotionthroughtheheavydoor,checkingleftandrighttogetmybearings,andpickingahallwaythatappearstohaveseveraldoorwaysleadingoffofit.ItakelongstridesinthatdirectionuntilIcanheartheraisedvoice.
Violetisstandingoutsidethedoor,doinganexcellentimitationofadeerintheheadlights,whilehermassivehusband,Cole,towersbehindherlikehe’sreadytomurdersomeone.Healwayslookslikethatthough.
“You’llembarrassyourselfmorethanme,”Sterling’sscoldingtoneassaultsmyearsfromtheothersideofthedoor.
IpeekatVioletandherhusband.Hislipsareflat,andhecantshisheadatmeasiftosay,AreyougoinginthereoramI?
I’dhappilylethimputSterlinginhisplace.ButI’dbeevenhappiertodoitmyself.
“Areyoukiddingme?”DisbeliefresonatesinSloane’svoice.“YoufuckastrippernightsbeforeourweddingandI’mtheembarrassingone?”
Otherpeopleinthechurchappeartobestaring—listening—whichiswhyIopenthedoorintowhatevermaelstromistakingplace.Sloaneneedsbackup.Andsheneedstoknoweveryoneisprivytotheirdirtylaundryrightnow.
AtleastItellmyselfthat’swhyI’mmarchingintothisroomunannounced.IthasnothingtodowiththefactthatSterlinghasmeseeingred.
“Itwasmystagparty!Alasthurrah!”IcatchsightofSterling’sback,hisarmsheldoutwideasSloanesitsonadaintyantiquestool,lookingimpossiblysmall,whilehestandsoverher,yellingather.
Protectivenesscoursesthroughme.
“Getoutandshutup!”Ibark,slammingthedoorbehindme.“Everyoneouttherecanhearyou.”
Sterlingspinsonme,eyesnarrowing,venomspewing.“Fuckoff,Gervais.Idon’tneedadumbjock’sadvice.Thisisbetweenmywifeandme.”
Icrossmyarmsandstandmyground.I’mofficiallydonebeingnicetoSterlingWoodcock.“She’snotyourwife.AndI’mnotgoinganywhere.”
He’snotastallasIam,andtheonlyreasonherivalsmeinweightisbecausehe’salittlethickaroundthemiddle.Soft,likehesitsathisdeskalldaylonganddrinkstoomuchatnight.
“Excuseme?”He’scompletelyturnedtomenowandtakingaggressivestepsinmydirection.Hissoft,shavedcheeksareallpuffedupandred,contrastingagainstthewhiteandblackofhistuxedo.
“IsaidI’mnotleaving.Butyouneedto.”
Frombeyondhim,Sloanestaresatmewide-eyed.Iexpectedtofindhercrying,butthereisn’tasingletearonherimmaculatelymade-upface.
Sterlingrushesme,armsoutstretchedandreadytoshove.Likeafuckingkidhavingatempertantrum.ButIpressmypalmintohisdampforeheadandstraight-armhimbeforehecanlayafingeronme.Helandsafewlameblowsonmyarms,buthe’stoofuckingsofttoknowwhathe’sdoing.Tooshort.Tooweak.
“RaiseyourvoiceatthatwomanonemoretimeandIwilldropyoulikeastone,Woodcock.”
“Fuckyou!I’dliketoseeyoutry.”He’sreallylosinghiscoolnow,butIgrabhimbyhissilky,littlebowtieandmarchhimtowardthedoor,wishing—notforthefirsttime—Icouldgivehimoneswiftsmackwithmyblocker.ButItamedthistemperlongagoandwon’tletsomeoneasinsignificantasSterlingWoodcockbetheonetobringitbackout.
Withmylefthand,Iyankthedooropen,andwithallmystrength,Ishovehimoutoftheroom,waitingabeattowatchhimstumblebackwardbeforesuccumbingtogravityandhittingtheburgundyruginthehallway.Helandsinanunceremoniouspileoflimbs,andIcommittheimagetomemorybecauseit’sjusttoodamngoodtoforget.
Iclosethedoorandlockit.
WithinmomentsIhearbangingandcussingandtotallyemptydeaththreats,butIignorethembecausemyattentionisonSloane,whohasherelbowsproppedonherknees,facetippeddownintoherhands,shouldersshaking.
Itakesurestepsacrosstheroomtowardthevanitywhereshe’sseated,readytocomfortherwhenIhearhergasp.
AtfirstIthinkit’sasob.ButthenIrealizeit’salaugh.
Sloaneislaughinguncontrollably,andIdon’tknowwhattodootherthanstandhereandstareathowherbodyispouredintothetight,starchedsatinofherdress.Atherhairslickedbackintosomepainfullookingtwist.AtthethincrystalstuddedstrapsofhersandalsthatIcanseediggingintoheralreadyscarredfeet.
Uncomfortablefromheadtotoe.
AndnowIamtoobecauseIjusttossedherfiancéoutonherweddingdayandshecan’tstoplaughing.
“Areyou…okay?”Iask,likeatotalidiot,fingersclenchingandreleasingatmysides.
“Neverbetter,”shewheezesandlaughsevenharder.“Youtossedhimouttherelikearagdoll!”Shecollapsesrightdownintoherlap,headbetweenherknees,tryingtosuckinbreathsasshetrailspalepinkmanicurednailsacrossthecarpetedfloorforamomentbeforesittingupstraight.
“Hecheatedonyou,”Ibiteout.
“Yeah.There’savideoandeverything.Someonesentittomeanonymously.Rightinthenickoftime.”Shewipesdaintilyatthetearsinthecornersofhereyes.
“Whyareyoulaughing?”
Shechucklesagainandshrugsbeforehittingmewithalookthat’sstrong,butIrecognizethesadnessinhereyes.I’veseenthatlookinthemirror.“Whatelseistheretodo?”
“You’renotmarryinghim.”Iswipeahandovermymouthandgazearoundtheornateroom.Thecrownmoldings.Theover-the-topchandeliers.Ifeelfrantic.Irepeattheonlythingthat’srunningthroughmyhead.“Overmydeadbody,areyoumarryinghim.”
Sheswallows,andIwatchtheslendercolumnofherthroatwork.“I’msorryIsaidwhatIsaidtheothernight.”Hervoiceissofter,herbodylanguagelesshystericalandmoredevastated.“Outsideoftherestaurant.”
Iwaveheroff.“It’sokay.”
“No.”Sheshakesherheadandstaresdownatherfeet.“It’snot.Iwaslashingout.Andafterallthetimesyou’vebeenthereforme,youdidn’tdeserveit.Iknowyouwerejustlookingoutforme.Youwerebeing…”Sheglancesupatmenow,apinchatthecornersofhereyes.“Youwerebeingagoodfriend.”
Ibitetheinsideofmycheek,hatingthelookofhelplessnessonherface.Hatingthisentirethingforher.
Hatingthatword.
Friend.
We’vebeenfriendsforsodamnlong…
…Istartlewhensmallblondeheadpopsoutofthewindowbehindme.
“Areyouokay?”
It’sBeau’slittlecousin,thesamegirlwhowasstaringatmeoutthewindowthismorning.Hereyesarewide,andtheexpressionofconcernonherfacetugsatmyheart.ShealmostremindsmeofJenny.I’mnotokay,butIdon’ttellherthat.“Yeah.Fine.”
Iturnbacktolookoutovertheshadowyranch.Ilovesittinguponthisrooftopinthequiet,darknight.It’speaceful.Justmeandmydemons.
“Wantsomecompany?”
Isighanddropmyhead.Idon’twantanycompany.ButIdon’ttellherthateither.
She’scrawlingoutbeforeIcanevenanswer,butIofferhera,“Sure,’’anyway.
Theroofisstilldark,butit’snolongerquiet.AgirlIbarelyknowmonologuesaboutherlife,andIjustlisten.Shetalkssomuchthatevenmydemonscan’tcompete.
Tonightandeverysummernightafter,shesitswithme.Idon’tinviteher.She’sjustthere.
Andsittingwithherispeaceful…
Iclearmythroattopushawaytheemotioncloggingit.“IfIwasgoingtobeagoodfriendtoyourightnow,whatwouldIdo?”
Sloanesighs,reliefpaintingeveryinchofherbody.LikeIjustposedhertheonequestionshesodesperatelyneededsomeonetoask.
“Jas.Getmethefuckoutofhere.Iwannagototheranch.”
Istareatherforabeat,handsshovedinmypockets,thinkingI’ddoanythingsheaskedinthismoment.
AndthenIreachmyhandouttoherwithafirmnod.“Let’sgo,Sunny.”4Sloane
Jasper:Isthereawayoutattheotherendofthehallway?
Cade:There’sanemergencyexit.
Rhett:Fuuuuucckk.Areyoubreakingourcousinoutofhershitty,stuffywedding?
Jasper:Yes.Comeupwithadistractionandtextmewhenit’ssafeforustorun.
Rhett:CanIpullthefirealarm?
Cade:Iwillcomeupwithsomething.
Rhett:I’vealwayswantedtopullthefirealarm.
Cade:Youdid.Ihadtowaitforyourdumbassafterschoolwhileyoufinisheddetentionforweeks.
Jasper:Guys?
Cade:Willahasaplan.Thatmightactuallybeworse.ButwhenIsaygo…go.Youneedtorun.
Sunny.
Iwonderifheknowswhatthatnicknamedoestome.Howitmakesmystomachflip.
Ifheknows,heshowsnosignofit.Because,rightnow,Ibarelyrecognizethemanbeforeme.JasperhasbeeninmylifeforalmosttwodecadesandI’veneverseenhimlookso…deadly.
Notevenontheice.
Heleadsmeacrosstheroombutstopsshortatthesoundofvoices.Sterling.Myparents.
God.Howmanypeopleheardthewordsexchangedinheretoday?
Withadeeprumblefromhischest,hefisheshisphonefromtheinsideofhissuitjacket.Hisleanfingersareflyingacrossthescreen.
“Whatareyoudoing?”IasktohisbackbecauseIhaven’tgainedthecouragetogetthatclosetothedooryet.
Iwanttoleave,butIdon’twanttolookeveryoneintheeye.They’lltrytoconvincemetostay,andIjustwanttogobacktowhereIalwaysfeltsafestasalittlegirl.Ilongforthatplaceandthesimplicityoflifethatcamewithit.It’sadeeppullinmychestIcan’tignore.
“Textingmybrothers.”
“Forwhat?”Istepforwardandpeekoverthecrestofhisbicep,glancingdownatthescreen.Readingthemessagesthatpopupbetweenhimandmycousinsraptly.
“Help,”ishisgruffreply.Heturnstomeamomentlater,ahintofsteelpeekingoutfrombeneathhishandsomefeatures.“Youshouldlosetheshoes.”
MyfaceturnsdownasIliftmyskirt.“Theshoes?”
“Yeah.Hardtorunin.”
Mytoeswiggle,thepinkpolishglintingundercheapfluorescentlights.IwanttotellJasperthatIcouldeasilyruninthese.Iloveagoodpairofheels,andI’llsufferinthemallday.Butmyalmost-future-mother-in-lawchosethese,andtheyaren’tmeatall.
Thethoughtofgettingoutofthemisjusttootempting.
Withabrusquenod,Ifisttheskirtandpullitupafewinchestobendover.ButbeforeIcan,Jaspercrouchesbeforeme.DeftfingersmakequickworkofthedaintysilverbuckleswhileIstandhereslack-jawed,watchingthismandroptoonekneejusttotakemyshoesoff,runningcallousedpalmsreverentlyaroundmyankleashetugsmyfeetfree
Withoutlookingup,hehandsthesparklyheeltomeashetapstheoppositefoot.Andnotforthefirsttime,I’mstuckstaringatJasperGervaiswithmyheartpoundingwhilehegoesaboutwhathe’sdoinglikeit’sthemostmundanethingintheworld.
“There,”hesays,glancingupatmewiththeanklestrapdanglingfromhisoutstretchedfinger.
It’shardnottoadmirehimonhisknees,butit’shisthumbthatmakesmegasp.Theonepressingintothearchofmyfoot,likehejustcan’thelpbutmassageme.
“Sore?”HisAdam’sappleworksasheswallows,onekneeonthegroundwhiletheotherisup,makinghisslacksstretchacrosshismuscularthighsinthemostdeliciousway.
Whatkindofmanstopsinthemiddleofbreakingmeoutofmyshamofaweddingtorubmysorefeet?
Adamngoodone.
Ishouldn’tbesalivatingoverhimonwhatwassupposedtobemyweddingday.ButsalivatingoverJasperGervaisispartofmypersonalityatthispoint.
“No,I’mfine,”Isayquickly,pullingmyfootbackdowntothefloor.Feelingmoregroundedonmybarefeet.
Istepahead,roundingJasperashepushestostand,andpressmyearagainstthedoor.It’shardtomakemuchoutbesidehushedtonesandthedeepbaritoneofwhatIrecognizeasmydad’svoice.
“Ready,Sloane?”
“Forwhat?”Iwhisper,leaningonthedoorlikeitmighthelpmecatchafewwords,
“Torun.”
Myheadflipsinhisdirection.“You’regoingtohelpmeliterallybecomearunawaybride?”
Jaspersmilesandhiseyessoften,creasespoppingupbesidethem.He’salwaysbeenmygentlegiant.Tall,quiet,andgooddowntothemarrowofhisbones.“That’swhatfriendsarefor.”
Friends.
Thatwordhashauntedmeforyears.Asachild,Ifeltspecialwhenhecalledmehisfriend,butasanadult?Asawoman?WatchingotherwomenprancearoundonhisarmatdifferenteventswhileIgetcalledhisfriend?
Itkillsme.
AndI’mperpetuallytoochickenshittodoanythingaboutit.Thetimingisalwaysoff.AndIhavetuckedmytailbetweenmylegssinceheturnedmedownforprom,andthenagaininamorejokingway.
Ifwelivedtogether,Iwouldn’thavetoinconvenienceyoulikethis.
ItwasanoffhandedremarkthatrolledoffthetipofmytonguefartooeasilyashehelpedmemountaTVtothewallinmynewcondo.Heparrieditawayeffortlesslywithadeepchuckleasheheftedthatflatscreenontothemount,likehewasswattingatamosquitobuzzingaroundhishead.
Likethatwouldeverhappen.
Hesaidthosewordstomeoneyearago,andItookahint.IdecidedhavingJasperasafriendisbetterthanalienatinghimaltogether.Andthat’swhatblurtingoutmyfeelingswoulddo.SoIletitgo.Imaybestupidlyobsessedwiththeman,butIhavesomesenseofself-preservation.IliketothinkIhavesomedignity.ButlatelyI’mquestioningeventhat.
RealizingI’vebeenstaringathimblanklyforfartoolong,Iask,“Howarewegoingtodothat?”
Hehikesathumbintheoppositedirectionfromthechurchentrance.“Emergencyexitisthatway.CadeandWillaplannedadistraction.Andthenwe’rejustgonna…”Heshrugs,lookingsodamnboyishashedoes.“Giveer.”
“Give’er?”
Hislaughisadeep,amusedrumble.Itpullsmetowardhimanddrawsmycheeksupintoagrin;itsoothesmeinawayIcan’texplain.
Henodsandit’ssosure.Decisive.There’ssomethingreassuringaboutknowinghe’llalwayshavemyback,thathecantakeanout-of-controlsituationandmakeitfeelincontrolsomehow.“Yeah.Like…gohard.Give’ershit.”
Iquirkmyhead.“Isthisahockeysaying?”
“Cometothinkofit,probably.Yes.”
“Okay.Let’sgive‘er,”Iagreewithalightlaugh.
Butaseriousexpressionflashesacrosshisface.“Yousureaboutthis,Sunny?”
Sunny.Ican’tstopmyselffromflinchingthistime.Ithinkhenoticesitbecauseconfusionflashesacrosshischiseledface.AndallIcanbringmyselftodoisnod.Decisively.
Hisphonedings,distractingusboth.Andthenhe’sreachingformyhand,twininghisfingersbetweenmine,andcarefullytwistingthedeadboltonthedoor.
Beforesteppingintothehallway,Ihearapainedshout.“Ah!Mybaby!”
Whenwepeekintothehallwaysecondslater,allbacksareturnedtous.Willaisdownonallfoursinthefoyer,graspingatherstomachdramaticallywhileCadestandsby,armscrossed,grufflyaskingifshe’sokaywhiletryingnottorollhiseyes.
I’mmomentarilyconfused.BecauseifIknowCade,he’sasprotectiveastheycome,andseeingthemotherofhischilddownonthefloorinpainwouldhavehimwild.
Willa’schintipsupinourdirection,andshewinks,beforefallingintoanotherchorusofloudwails.“Please!Ineedadoctor!”
Ihavetopressmypalmovermymouthtokeepfromlaughingathowridiculousthisplanis.AllJasperdoesisshakehishead,squeezemyhandreassuringlyinhis,andtakeoffforthebackdoor.
Irunbarefootdownthecarpetedhallway,takingthebiggeststridesIcanmusterwhiledesperatelytryingtocontrolthelaughterbubblinginmychest.
It’sfreeing.It’sarelief.Andbeforewehitthedoor,myfingersloosenaroundthesparklyheelsinmyhand.
IdropthemlikeCinderellaandstepoutintoadullNovemberafternoon,withmypalmpressedtightagainstJasper’s.
“Howmuchfarther?”Ihuff,outofbreathafterrunningafewblocksinabig,heavydresstoppedwithaheftydoseofadrenalinecoursingthroughmyveins.
Jasperslows,givingmeaslightgrimace.“Sorry.Iparkedatthestadium.Hadn’tplannedonbeingyourgetawayvehicle.”Hisfingerspulseonmineashedrawsmeclosetohisside.Andthenhistonechanges.“ThoughmaybeIshouldhave.”
Hiseyesdrop,likehe’sembarrassedbywhathejustsaid,andhelurchestoahalt.“Jesus,Sloane.Yourfeet.Ididn’teventhinkbeyondgettingyououtthatdoor.”Eyesgluedtotheground,hegesturesmebehindhim,andIrealizehe’sstaringatmyfeet.Mybarefeetonacoldwintersidewalk.“Whydidn’tyousayanything?Yougotsomethingagainstyourfeet?IfeellikeI’mtheonlyonewhotakescareofthem.”
“Don’tworryaboutmyfeet.It’sthisfuckinghairdothat’skillingme.”IprobeatthespotwhereIcanfeeltinyhairstuggingagainstmyscalp.
Hislipstipdowninasurlyfrown,andthenhecrouches.“Hopup.”
“Youwanttogivemeapiggybackride?”
Heshootsmeaplayfullookoverhisshoulder,onethattakesmebacktolong,hotsummersspentfloatingtheriver,splashing,andstaringatJasperGervais,whoseemedallmantomeevenatseventeen.
WishIcouldgobackandwarnthatSloaneabouthowhe’dgrowuptolook.
Whichistosay,devastating.
“Wouldn’tbethefirsttime.Let’sgo.Idon’twantWoodcocktocatchupwithusandthrowatantrum.”
Ican’thelpthesmalllaughthateruptsfromme.OrthatmyfingersarealreadygrippingatmyskirtasIclimbJasperlikeatree.OnceIgetcloseenough,heheftsmeupeasily,andIrealizeIweighnothingtohim.
Atinyballerinabeingtotedaroundbyahugehockeyplayer.
Inherfuckingweddingdress.
Gigglesovertakeme,andIwrapmyarmsaroundJasper’sneck,snugglingintothewarmthofhisbody.Ifeelthevibrationsofhislaughteragainstmychest,andmynipplesraspagainsttheinsideofmybodice.
“Thisisinsane.”Idropmyheadtothebackofhisneck,thetipsofhishairbrushingagainstmyforehead.
“No.”Hehikesmeuphigheronhisbackasweenterthehockeyarenaparkinglot,andIstruggleagainstthetightdresstokeepmylegswrappedaroundthewideexpanseofhisback.“TakingWoodcockasalegalnameisinsane.”
“Jasper.”Iswatathisshoulder.“Benice.”
“No,thanks.I’moverbeingnicetothatguy,”hegrumbles,stillorneryoverdinnertheothernight.NotthatIcanblamehim.
“Iwasplanningtohyphenate?”
“Winthrop-Woodcockisnobetter,babe.”
IsnortandamabouttopesterhimbackwhenIhearit.Atearingsound.
Ohmygod.
Jasperfreezesmomentarily.“Wasthat…”
Silentlaughterracksmybody.“Mydress?Yup.”
“Areyou…”
“Myassstillfeelscovered.Nobreezeyet.”Ireachonehandbacktorunitovermybutt—justincase.“It’sstilljustmyhairthathurts,”Iadmit.
Hejustgrumbles,pickinguphispaceandlookingaroundlikehe’sannoyedbytheideaofsomeoneseeingwhatisn’tevenshowing.Annoyedbymyhairbeingtootight.
Idon’tknowwhenJaspergotso…overprotective?
“Thereitis.”
ThelightsflashonasilverVolvoSUV,andIsighinrelief.Sure,thoseshoesweretorture,butrunningbarefootoncoldconcreteisaclosesecondinthediscomfortdepartment.
Heplacesmedownatthepassenger’sside,buthishandsdon’tleavemybody.Hispalmsplaysagainstmyhipasheopensthedoorandliftsmeintotheseat.Heevenreachesfortheseatbelttobucklemeinbeforehestopshimself.
Navyeyeslandonminemomentarilyandthendroptomylips.Heshakeshishead,histallframebackingoutofthecarawayfromme.
He’sabouttoslamthedoor,butstops,startlingmeashewrenchesitbackopen,stepsupclose,andbitesout,“Youknowwhat?”Hereachesformyhairandgentlehandslandinmytresses.“Thisfuckingthingneedstogo.”
Idon’tknowhowhemanagesit,butwithonewell-placedtug,hepullsthemaincrystal-encrustedneedlefrommyhairandtossesitontheground.Thetinnyclangofitlandingagainsttheasphaltsoundsloudinanotherwisequietmoment.There’ssomethingsymbolicaboutit.
ThereliefIfeelisinstant.Thespotthathurtdoesn’tanymore.
Myhairtumblesfreelyaroundmycheeks,andhewatchesitsway.Foramoment,hiseyesheatandshockmewhentheylandbackonmylips.
“Isthatbetter?”herumbles.
MyheartbeatthumpsheavilyinmyearsandIofferasilentnodback.Notsurewhattosay.Tryingtomakesenseofthisversionofmyfriend.Protectiveandpossessive,devotionfortifyingeverymovehemakes.
Hemirrorsmynodwordlessly,thenhestepsbackandslamsthedoor.
Withinmomentshe’ssettledinthedriver’sseat,andwepulloutofthefacilityinsilence.Whatfeltlikereliefandfreedombeforeslowlymorphsintoshockandasteadystateofnausea.
Atensemomentofwhatthefuckwasthathairthing?
AheavydoseofwhathaveIdone?
IrunthroughtheconversationsI’llneedtohave.Thecontractswe’llneedtopayforaweddingthatneverhappened.ThemoveI’llhavetomakeoutofSterling’spenthouse.
Dreadsinkslikeaheavystoneintomygut.
“Fuckmylife,”Imutter,watchingthecitystreetsbleedintothefreewaythatleadsouttoChestnutSprings.
“Westillgood?”IsenseJasper’snervousglances.Iknowhimwellenoughtorecognizehe’sstressingrightnow.Worrying.He’salwaysbeengoodatworrying,sohisanxietyisprobablykickinginsomethingfierce.
“Yeah.Icoulduseadrinkthough.”
Henods,andwithinminuteswepullintoaliquorstore.
“I’llget—”hestarts,butIhopoutofthecarandwalktowardthestorelikeathirsty,stunned,barefootbride-zombie.
Withlongstrides,herushesaheadtopullthedooropenforme.AsIcrossthethreshold,Idon’tmakeeyecontact,butIcanfeelhimregardingmelikehethinksImightsnap.IthinkIalreadyhave.
Inside,itreeksofstalebeerandPine-Sol.
Jasperturnstopeeraroundthesmallstore.It’smoreofawidehallway,packedalittletootight.Kindofliketheguybehindthecounter,bulgingoutofhisshirt.
“Welcome,”hegrumbles,scrollingthroughhisphone,notsparingusaglance.
“Doyouwant…Champagne?”Jasperliftsabottleofthenicestchampagneontheshelf,whichisnotsayingmuchforthisdive.“To…celebrate?”
Isnortatthat.“No.”Irollmylipstogetherandkeepwalkingfurtherback.“Iwantsomethingfatteningandlowbrow.SomethingSterlingandmydadwouldneverapproveof.”
IhearJasper’schucklebehindmeasIstalktowardthecoldbeersectionattheback.Thewayhelaughs,allsoftanddeep,neverfailstomakemefeellikeI’msinkingintoawarmbath.He’ssoserioussometimesthatwhenhelaughs,it’sprecioussomehow.
Thegritontheflooragainstmybarefeetmakesmesmile.Sterlingandmydadwoulddefinitelynotapproveofthis,soIpressmysolesdownharder,rollingthroughmyfullfoot,hopingthebottomsareblackbythetimeI’mdoneshopping.Acompletelyinconsequentialrebellion,butasatisfyingonenonetheless.
Istopandtakeinthecoolershelves.Andthereitis.Likeaglowingbeaconbeforeme.
BuddyzBestBeer.
It’sreallytheZthatsealsthedealforme.It’ssounnecessary.Soimproper.Thecanslookthin—cheap—withapoorlydrawncartoonbassethoundonthefront.
“Perfect,”ImurmurreverentlyasIreachforwardandgrabthesix-pack.
WhenIspinaround,Jasperissmirkingatme.“BuddyzBestisperfect?”
“Yes.”Iliftthecanstomyfaceandstareatthedroopyfaced,sad-lookingdog.Ifeellikeabassethoundinsiderightnow.“Buddyistheperfectmanforme.Cheap.Alcoholic.Andmostimportantly,notahumanmaleatall.”
ThegrinIgivemyfriendisunhingedatbestasIstormtothetillandplopthebeerdownonthecounter.Finally,themanliftshischinfromhisphonewherehe’swatchingwhatappearstobecompetitivebowling.
HiseyesassessmebeforedroppingtothebeerandglancingbackupatJasper.Thisguylookslikehe’sseensomeshit.Iexpecthimtohavequestions,butallhesaysis,“Congratulations,youtwo,”ashescansthebeerandtellsmethetotalinaboredtone.
IreachformypursebutrealizeIleftitbehindwhenweran.
Alongarmreachesoverme,tossingdownaten-dollarbill.“Keepthechange,”Jaspersays.Heguidesmeoutofthestorewithagentlehandcuppingmyelbow,eyesfixedonmybarefeet.“Sunny,you’regonnaneedabathwhenwegettotheranch.”
“MaybeifIdrinkenoughofthese”—Iliftthesix-pack,feelingalittleloopy—“I’llinviteyoutojoinme.”
Jasperjuststaresbackatme,jawpoppinglikeI’vepissedhimoff.Notasinglewordcrestshislips,notasingletuguponhischeeks.
“Justkidding!”iswhatIfilltheawkwardsilencewithbeforeturningandscurryingbacktothecomfortableSUV.Istrapmyselfin,crackacheap-assbeer,andtakeadeepswiginanincrediblysadattempttodrinkmyproblemsawayandforgettheoff-colorjokeIjustblurtedout.
JasperandIdriveintotalsilence.Icontinuetodrinkandhemakesnocommentonthat.Instead,hejustgripsthesteeringwheellikehe’stryingtostrangleitwhilekeepingintenseeyesontheroad.
Andaftermythirdbeeronanemptystomach,Ifeelalittlebitbetter.Alsoalittlebitdrunk.
SoImonologue,likeIoftendowithJasper.“YouknowIdidn’twantanuglyfallwedding.Iwantedaspringwedding.Iwantedaflowy,femininedressandanoutdoorceremony.Nouptighttuxedos,anddefinitelynoblackbridesmaiddresses.”Iholdupmyhand,staringattherockaboutthesizeoftheicebergthatsunktheTitanic.“AndIhatethisring.IsawoneatalittleboutiqueonSixteenthAvenue—youknowthatfunkyarea?Itwasapurpleovalsapphire.Howcoolisapurplesapphire?Andtheysetitsidewaysinmatteyellowgold.Sterlingsaiditwas‘weird’andthengavemethisringthenextweek.IswearhepickedtheoppositeofanythingI’deverwantonpurpose.”
“Romantic,”Jaspersays,hisjawtickingwithtension.
Idrinksilently,stewingoverthefactIpretendedIlikedthisringwhenhegaveittomebecauseIdidn’twanttooffendanyone.
WhenwepullintoWishingWellRanch,Harvey’struckisinthedriveway,eventhoughwethoughtheandBeauweregoingtobeatthewedding.JasperandIexchangeaconfusedlook,andthesecondhisvehicleisinpark,he’sskippingstepstogettothefrontdoor.Irunafterhim,heartpounding,becausesomethingisoff.
Inside,Harveyissittingattheexpansivekitchentablewithabigglassofbourbongrippedbetweenhispalms.Anoddshadeofgreencolorshiscomplexion.
Jasperfreezesinthedoorway,staringathim.
“What’swrong?”Iaskinstantlybecauseit’soneofthosemomentswhenyoucanjusttell.
Thehouseistoodark,tooquiet.
Myuncle,whoisalwaysallsmilesandwarmgazes,looksgutted.
Harveydoesn’tcommentonmybarefeetoraskwhyI’mhere.Instead,hiseyeslatchontoJasper’sandhesays,“Beauismissing.”5Jasper
IregisterthesoundofSloane’sbeercanhittingthehardwoodfloor,buteverythingelseisjustwhitenoise.Bloodrushing.Heartsinking.
Harvey’shauntedfacestaringatmefromthekitchentableisoneI’llneverforget.It’ssearedintomymemory,rightbesidethedaymylittlesisterdied.
“I’mgoingtoneedyoutosaythatagain.”Ihearmyselftalking,butit’soutofbody,likeI’vesteppedoutofmyskinandamstaringdownonmyself.IseeSloaneswaying,herdelicatehandpressedagainstherlipswhiletheotherpropsherselfupagainstthedoorframe.
“Beauismissing,”hesaysagain.
“Whatdoyoumean,missing?”It’slikeI’vecompletelydetachedfromwhatIdidn’twanttohear.
Heclearshisthroatandtakesanotherheavypulloftheamberliquidinhisglass.Everyoneisanxietydrinkingtonight.“Comesitdown,son.”
Anxietyunfurlsinmychest,spreadingthroughmyveinslikewildfireandtransformingintoblindpanic.Ifeellikeacorneredanimal.
“Idon’twanttositdown.”Myarmshanglimpatmysides.Myfingershavegonenumb.Beauismybestfriend.We’vebeenjoinedatthehipforyears.He’sthekidwhosavedmeandbroughtmehere—noquestionsasked.He’smybrotherineverywaythatcounts.
Aspecialforcessoldierwithapersonalitythesizeofhisdoesn’tjustgomissing.
“Iwanttoknowwhat’sgoingon.”Myvoicesoundshollowandrobotictomyownears.
IfeelagentlepulsingaroundmyforearmandthepressofSloane’sbodyinchingclosertomine.Herfingersmustbesqueezingatmyarminaslow,steadyrhythm.Italmostfeelslikemyheartbeat,theonethathasslowedtoadullthudaseverythingspinsaroundme.Hersqueezingiswhat’skeepingitbeatingatall.
‘‘Igotthecalllastnishtthathe’dmissedhisscheduledflight,whichisn’toutoftheordinarywithhim.ButthenthismorninsIgotasecondcallwhereIwasinformedthatsomethingwentwronsontheirmission…andhewentmissing.”
“Whatdotheymeanbymissing?”MywordscomeoutharsherthanIintend,certainlyharsherthanHarveydeserves.It’shissonwho’smissing.
Missing.Thatwordisrunningthroughmyheadonrepeattowhereit’slostallmeaning.
Harveyblinks.“Youknowhowthatunitworks.Theydon’ttellanyoneanything.Alltheytoldmeisthathewasonamission,somethingwentwrong,andhedidn’tgetonthetransportout.They’reinvestigatingnow.”
Theairistoothinandmylungstoosmall.Theworldistooheavy.SuddenlyI’mbackthereonthatday.Hotpavementbeneathme,listeningtomydadshoutingandmymomwailing.
Feelingcompletelyhelpless.
“Ineedwater.”
Sloanejumpsintomotion,herdressswishingasshewalksacrossthekitchenandpoursanotherglassofliquor.AndIjuststandhere,staringatthebourboninHarvey’shand.ItremindsmeofBeau’seyes,ofgoingoutanddrinkingtoomuchwithhim,listeningtohimcrackrudejokesandlaughtooloud.
“Here.”SloaneliftsmyarmandcurlsmyfingersaroundtheglassasifI’mavegetableorsomething.“Let’sgo.”Herhandsarebackaroundmyforearm,andsheleadsmetowardthetable.
Igo,toostunnedtoknowwhatelsetodo.Shepullsoutachairandsitsmedown.AndthenshegoestoHarvey.
Heforcesasmileashelooksupather.“I’msorryImissedyourwedding,Sloaney.”
Hereyesglistenwithunshedtearsasshedropsasmallhandontohisshoulder.“Youdidn’tmissawedding,UncleHarvey.Theweddingdidn’thappen.”
Hisgazeswivelsbetweenuswithasmallshakeofhishead.“Iguess…Iguessthatmakessense,sinceyou’reherewithJasperandnotyourhusband.Thetwoofyoujustlooksonaturaltogether.I…I’msorry.”Onebroadpalmcovershisface.“I’mnotthinkingstraightrightnow.”
Achokedsoblurchesfromhischest.FollowedbyamatchingonefromSloane.
Andthenshe’sthere,wrappingherarmsaroundthemanwhoismydad.IneverywaythatIneededafather,Harveywasthatpersontome.He’sknownsomuchpaininhislife.Somuchlossandhardship.
Justlikeme.
Anditseemsinfuriatinglyunfairthatsomethinglikethisshouldhappentous.
Sloanedoesn’tofferhimapologies.Shedoesn’ttellhimeverythingwillbeokay.“Iloveyou,UncleHarvey,”isallshesaysasshewrapsherarmsaroundhisneckandhugshimfiercely,lettinghimgaspintohershoulderasastraytearfallsdownhercheek.
Again.
Sloanehasshedtoomanytearstoday.
Andyet,she’shere.Drunk.Andsad.Andlost.She’sgotdirtyfeetandiswearinganexpensive,rippedweddingdressforamarriagethatdidn’thappen.Herlifeisinshambles,andshe’sstillherecomfortingotherpeople.
Sloaneisselfless.
Shemightnotlookit,butshe’sstrong.
She’sagotahugeheart.Agentlesoul.
AndwatchinghercomfortHarveyrightnow,IletmyselfadmitthatthewayIloveSloanemightnotbehowonefriendlovesanotheratall.
Afistlandsonmyshoulder,butIjustlaugh.Thisshitheadpuncheslikeatoddler.Andhejustlefthimselfopenforme.
MyknucklescrackwhentheyslamintoTristan’sface,andbloodspraysfromhisnose,whichseemstofunctionassomesortofsignalforallhissharkfriendstoswarmme.
“You’refuckingdead,Gervais!I’mgonnagotothebackfieldandburnthatfilthycaryoulivein.Putyouonthestreetwhereyoubelong.”
Hiswordshurtahellofalotmorethanhispunches.Iglancearound,feelingthepressofnewpeoplearoundme.
Everyoneassumesthathockeyplayersarepopular,I’mproofthatisn’talwaystrue.I’vebeenreducedtotowntrashinthewakeofeverythingthat’shappened,andthesearethekidsatschoolwho’vebeengettingakickoutofremindingmewhereIbelongontheirtotempole.
TodayIboiledover.
WhenIglancehackatTristan,it’stheboystandingbehindhimwhocatchesmyattention.BeauEaton.SchoolQuarterback,honorroll,basicallythetownprincewhoeveryoneloves.Nevertookhimforthetypetojoininonsomethinglikethi—
“Tristan,fuckoff.”Hegiveshimashoveandstepsup,blockingmefromthegatheringcrowd.“Everyonefuckoff!Show’sover!”heannounces,crossinghisarmsandglaringbackwhileourfellowstudentsdisperse.
Shamehitsme.NotonlyamItheweirdhomelesskidwhoseparentslefthimbehind…I’mnowthemostpopularkid’scharitycase.
BeforeIcaneventhinkaboutwhatI’mdoing,Iturnandrunstraightforthestandoftreesthatdividetheschoolyardfromthescrubbybackfield.Straightfortheoldbroken-downHondaI’vebeencallinghome.
“Hey!Waitup!”IhearBeaucall,butIdon’tlookback.Humiliationdrivesmeforward,andwithinminutesI’mleanedupagainstthewhitehunkofmetaltryingtocatchmybreath.It’sashitplacetolive.Butit’sdry,andit’sclosetothehockeyrink.Andthat’sallIcareabout.
“Areyoureallylivinghere?”
Igroan.Ofcourse,hehadtofollowme.“Yeah.”
Ahushexpandsbetweenus.I’mtooembarrassedtoturnaroundandfacehim.
“Cometomyhouse.”That’swhathebreaksthetensesilencewith.That’swhathasmespinningaroundtolookatthisbright,shinygoldenboyofateenager.
“Yourhouse?”
“Yeah.”Henodssurely,armscrossingoverhischestashetriestolookatmeandnotthesqualorI’vebeenlivingin.“Lotsofrooms.Lotsoffood.”
“I—”
“I’mnottakingnoforananswer.Grab…”Helooksbehindmenow,featurespinched.“Whateveryouneed.MybrotherCadewilldriveusonceRhettisoutofdetention.”
“Yousure?”Asmall,fragileflameofhopeflickersinsideofme.“Whatifyourfamilydoesn’twantmethere?”
Hejustscoffs.“Iguaranteemyfamilydoesn’twantyoulivinghere.”
AndjustlikethatBeauEatoncementshimselfasoneoftheverybestthingsinmylife…
“Hi.”Sloane’svoiceisquietandtentativebehindme.
“How’dyouknowIwashere?”Idon’tturntolookatherheadpokedoutofthewindow.I’mstillfrozen,andithasnothingtodowithhowcolditisoutrightnow.
“Hardtoforgetournightsouthere,tobehonest.”
She’snotwrong.Ournightsspentoutontheroofweresomeofthebestofmylife.Theyusuallystartedoutastheworstnights,butthenshe’dcomejoinmeandtheywereinstantlybetter.
“Icouldalsofeelthecoldairfromthehallway.”
Igrunt,notreallyinthemoodfortalking.Infact,Ifeelcompletelyhollowedout.
“Youcold,Jas?”
Ishrug,notcaringifI’mcold.I’mtoobusyimaginingalltheawfulthingsthatcouldhavehappenedtomybrother.
Hetoldmehewouldleavethearmysoon.Ofcourse,healwayssaidthat.AndeverytimeIwantedtobelievehim.
Weallhatedhimdeploying—itfeltlikethestatisticsweren’tstackedinhisfavoranymore.Likehe’dgottenoffscot-freetoomanytimes.Likehewastoosunnyandgoofy,andtheuniversewouldtakethatawayfromhimatsomepoint.
IhearSloaneclamberingoutthewindowofherguestroom.TheroomrightbesidetheoneIspentmyteenageyearsin.
I’mabouttotellherIwanttobealone,butwhenshewrapsablanketaroundmyshouldersandplopsdownbesideme,tuckingherselfinagainstme,mybodyreleasesabreathIdidn’tevenknowI’dbeenholding.Shepressesclosebesideme,alldownyandcomforting.Hersweetscentwaftstomynostrils.Smellslikecoconutandicingonacupcake.
Forcingmyselftostaystaringatthedarkfields,Iignoreherpresence.UntilIseeanuglycartoonbassethoundpusheduptomyface.
“Drink.”It’snotaquestion.It’sacommand.
Ishakemyhead,feelingmorelikemytraumatizedteenageselfthanIhaveinyears.
“Comeon.I’mdehydratedfromcryingintheshower.Pleasedon’tmakemedrinkalone.Beauwouldn’tapprove.”
Isnortalaugh,butit’sfollowedbyawounded,keeningnoise.ThesoundofSloanesniffingistheonlyresponse.Wedon’tlookateachother.
“WWBD,”shesayswithasurenod.
“Pardon?”
“WhatwouldBeaudo?Webothknowhe’ddrinkthebeer.”
I’msureifIevenglanceather,I’llbreakdown,soIcrackopenthestupidBuddyzBestBeerandtakealongpull.
“Thistasteslikeshit.”
Shedrinks,andfrommyperiphery,Iseehernod.“Matchestheday.Shitisthetheme.”
Igruntmyagreement.“You’renotwrong.”
Hershoulderbumpsintominebutshedoesn’tmoveaway.Shetucksincloser,pullingthesamepatchworkquiltweusedaskidsaroundus.Andjustlikewhenwewereyounger,shedoesn’tpokeandprod.OrtrytogetmetotalkaboutmyfeelingslikeatherapistIneveraskedfor.
She’sjustthere.
“Doyouthinkhe’sdead?”Iblurt,tryingtocovermyfearbychuggingmorebeer.It’sthequestionthat’sbeendancingaroundinmyheadforthelastcoupleofhours.TheoneIdidn’twanttogivevoiceto,butitleaptfrommeallthesame.
IchancealookatSloanenowtoseehowshemightreacttomydarkquestion.Butasusual,shedoesn’tshyawayfrommydarkness—afterall,she’smySunny.Shechasesawaythedarkjustbybeingherself.
“Ithink…”Sherollsthecanbetweenherhands,creatingaloudcrinklingsoundinthequietnight.“Ithinkthat’snotthetypeofenergyIwanttoputoutintotheuniverseforhimrightnow.”
Astrangledchucklerumblesinmychest,andshejabsanelbowintomyribs.“I’mserious!Doyougointoagamethinkingyou’regoingtoloseit?Ordoyouenvisionyourselfwinning?Iobsessivelyrunthroughadanceinmyheadbeforeaperformance,butIdon’tletmyselfseeamissoratrip.AndI’mgoingtotreatthisthesameway.”
Shenods,smalldaintyfeaturespressedintoadeterminedexpression.“IfBeauisoutthere,heneedsourgoodenergy.He’stoo…”Onehandrollsaroundinfrontofherasshesearchesfortheword.“Idon’tknow.He’slargerthanlife.Hewon’tgodownwithoutafight.Ihavefaithinhim.”
Unshedtearsprickatmyeyes.Largerthanlife.Heisthat.Determined.Relentless.Thatfuckerdoesn’ttakenoforananswer.Andwhereverheis,Ihopehedoesn’trightnoweither.
IleanintoSloane,andsherestsherheadagainstmyshoulder.Idon’tknowhowlongwesitinacompanionablesilence,juststaringout.Nosoundsexcepttheintermittenthootsfromanowl,theoddhuffofairfromacow,andthequietnickerfromahorse.
“Ilovethemoononnightslikethis,”shemurmurs.“Itmakeseverythingappearalmostsilver.Itmakeseverythingglow.”
Tippingmychinup,Ipeerattheskyfullofcreamywhitestarssothickinspotsitalmostlookslikeablanket.ItremindsmeofwhenwewereinfrontofthesteakhouseandIcouldn’tseeasinglestaronaperfectlyclearnight.
Afterourargument,IdroveouttoChestnutSpringsandspentthenightinoneofthesmallhouseIboughtintown.TonightI’mtoofucked-uptogoanywhere,butthere’sthispartofmethatdoesn’twanttosleepinmychildhoodbed.
Itfeelsliketoomuchrightnow.Itfeelstooreal.
Sloane’sbodyheavesaheavysigh,andIwonderhowshe’sfeelingaftertheshitdayshe’shadtoo.
“I’msorryaboutSterling,”Ioffer,notmeaningit.
“Don’tbullshitme,Jas.”
Aquietchucklerollsfrommylips.“Okay.I’msorryaboutyourwedding.”
Shesighsagain,petiteshouldersrisingandfallingwithsuchtiredness.“I’mnot.”
Herbluntresponsetakesmebysurprise.
“No?”
“Nah.SpendingmylifebarefootinthekitchenasMrs.Woodcocksoundsfuckingterrible.I’dratherbebarefootinadirtyliquorstorewithyou.”
Iwanttolaughbutjealousylancesthroughme.Followedbyrelief.Reliefthatshehasn’ttakenthatpath.
Reliefthatshe’ssittingherewithmeinstead.Because,wrackmybrainasImight,Ican’tthinkofasingleotherpersonI’dratherbewithinthewakeofthisnews.
Ifeelhershiverbesidemeandturntopressakisstothecrownofherhead,butherhairiswetandcold.
“Yourhairiswet.”
Sheshrugs.“Yeah.Icamestraighthereaftermyshower.”
Anachehitsmeinthecenterofmychest,andIshakemyheadatmyself,notwantingtoreadmoreintothatthanIshould.Afterall,shealmostmarriedsomeonetoday.
“Let’sgo,Sunny.You’regonnafreezewithwethairouthere.”Istandandreachahandoutforhers,smallandcoolinmine,asIpullherup.Isqueezeonceandtrytoletgo.
ButIcan’t.Iwantherclose.Ijustdon’tknowhowtogothere.
Shedoesn’tsufferfromthesameconfusionthough.Withoutasecondthought,shestepsintome.Myarmsfoldaroundheralongwiththethickblanketthatrestsoverhershouldersasherhandsslideovermyribs.Herforeheadpressestomychest,andIcupthebackofherhead.
Maybeit’sourheightdifference.Maybeit’sjusttradition.ButI’vealwayshuggedherlikethis,andshe’salwaysletme.There’sacomfortinitsomehow.Afamiliarity.
“You’llbehereinthemorning?”Thisiswhatshe’salwaysaskedmeonbadnights.LikeshewantedtomakesureIwouldn’tdroptoofarintomysadness.SofarIwouldn’tcomeback.
“WhereelsewouldIbe?”iswhatI’vealwaysrespondedwithasmyhandslidesoverherdamphair.BecauseIwillbe.
Becauseshe’satetherthathasneverletgo,evenwhenI’vewantedherto.BeforeIjoinedtheEatons,IfeltlikenoonewouldmissmeifIweregone.ButnowIknowthat’snottrue.Theywould.Sloanewould.Andthat’salwayskeptmegroundedinawayIneededsodesperatelyasagrievingteenager.
Shepullsawaywithaquietsniffleanddowncasteyes.“Goodnight,Jas.Justknockifyouneedme.”
“Goodnight,Sunny.”Iruffleherhairandturnaway.
Weheadtoourownrooms.Thesamewaywedidaskids.
Icrouchtofitthroughmywindowandcurluponmybed.Thentheinsistentpressureinmychestcracksandthetearscome.
JustliketheydidwhenIwasakid.
Thedifferenceis,IwishSloanewerestillpressedagainstme,andIneverwishedforthatbackthen.6Sloane
*27missedcallsfromSterling*
*12missedcallsfromDad*
Sterling:Where’dyougo?Comeback.Weneedtalkaboutthis.
Sterling:Sloane,thisishumiliating.Everyoneiswaiting.Canyouhaveyourtempertantrumlater?
Sterling:Yourdadisfurious.We’regoingtohavetocancelallthecaterers.Everything.I’mnotdealingwiththisshit.
Sterling:Thisisfuckingbullshit.Getyourassbackhereandsignthepaperworksowecanmoveon.
Sterling:I’llgotoGrandCaymanbymyself.
Sloane:Takethestripper.Shedeservesavacationafterputtingupwithyouforevenonenight.
IwrenchthepassengerdoorofJasper’sSUVopen.Ialmostmissedhim.
“Whatareyoudoing?”HiseyeswidenbeneaththebrimofhismaroonCalgaryGrizzliescappulleddownlow.
Ignoringhisquestion,Itossmypurseintothebackandcrawlintotheseatbesidehim.Hesmellsmintyandfresh,butthecirclesbeneathhiseyesaredarkandhishandsomefacelooksdrawn.Helookssad,butedibleinapairoftornjeansandadownyplaidjacket.Iglancedownatmysimplegraysweatsuitthatcouldfittwoofmeinsideit.
HarveylaiditoutonmybedformewhileIshoweredlastnight.I’msureit’shis,butI’mnotabouttoputmyweddingdressbackon.Soit’sgoodenough.
Ireachforwardtocrankupthewarmaircomingfromthevents.“Fuckingfreezingoutthismorning,”Imumble,catchingsightofmyselfintherearviewmirror,hairallwavyanddisheveled,eyesallpuffy.
“Sloane.Whatareyoudoing?”
Irubmypalmstogetherandblowintomycuppedhandsbeforereachingovermyshouldertobuckletheseatbelt.Strappedin,Ihaveabetterchanceofnotlaunchingacrossthecenterconsoletohugthemanbesideme.“I’mcomingwithyou,Jas.Whatdoesitlooklike?”
Heblinksatme.“Ihaveagametonight.”
“Iknowyoudo.”Ihunkerdownintotheleather.“Doesthisthinghaveheatedseats?”
Hescoffs.“Ofcourse,itdoes.”Hereachesforwardandpressesthebuttonthatputstheseattofullheat.
“Perfect.”Iturnwideeyesonhim,signalingthatheshouldgetgoing,buthejuststaresbackatme.
“It’ssixinthemorning.”
Iyawn,holdingmyhandthatiswrappedinthetoo-longsleeveofthecrewnecksweatshirtuptomymouth.“Don’tIknowit.Canwestopforacoffee?”
HeshiftsthecushySUVintodrive,eventhoughIcanstillseethequestionsdancinginhiseyes.ThefrontofhisVolvoislitonlybythedash.It’searlyenoughandfarenoughintotheyearthatit’sstillfullydarkrightnow,andastheheatfromtheseatseepsintome,Isigh.
“Thisisacomfortablecar.”Myeyesfluttershut.“IalmostfeellikeIcouldfallasleep.”LordknowsIdidn’tsleepawinklastnight.
Beingarunawaybridethatnoonecouldreachstressedmeout.AndhearingJasperquietlyweepthroughthethinwallthatseparatedusmademecrytoo.Thereweretoomanythingstothinkabout—toomuchpaintorelax—soIlaidthere,watchingthehourstickbyonthedigitalclock.Itriedtoformulateaplan,visualizedmyfavoritemomentsonstage,andforcedmyselftonotcrawlacrosstheroofandintoJasper’sroomtoholdhim.
Becausehewouldn’twantthat.Evenlisteningtohimfeltlikeaninvasion.
“Thesafestmoneycanbuy,”hesays,fingerspulsingonthewheelashelooksbothwaysonthedarkcountryroad.Thenlooksagain.
Itmakesperfectsensehe’dchoosesomethingincomparablysafe.
“Youhaveyourpurse,”heannouncesashefinallypullsontothegravelroad.
“Yeah.WhenIwentdownstairs,itwasonthetablewithanotefromVioletinformingmethatshewasheadingbackhometobewithherbabies.Igetthesensethateveryoneisretreatingtotheirowncornerswiththe…news.”
“Doesthatmeanyou’regoinghome?ToSterling?”Hisvoiceisthickandhesoundsresigned.
Ipressmylipstogetherandforcemyselftostareoutthewindshield.“No,Jasper.ItmeansI’mcomingwithyou.”
Thelinesofhisbodystiffenatmyresponse.WhatIjustsaidfeelsaltogethertoovulnerable,soIchangethesubject.“CanwestopataWalmartorsomethingsoIcangetsomeclothesthatfit?”
Myquestionhasthecornersofhismouthtuggingup.“Icanjustseetheheadlinenow”—onebroadpalmwavesacrosstheconsoleinadramaticswoop—“CanadianTelecommunicationsHeir,SloaneWinthrop,fleesweddingandisfoundshoppingatWalmart.”
Isnort.“Worksforme.Sterlingwillstopblowingmyphoneupifheseesmeshoppingwiththepeasants.”MyfingersdolittleairquoteswhenIsaypeasants,andmyeyesrollintime.
Jaspershakeshisheadbutsaysnothingmore.
ItstrikesmeIshouldbemoredevastatedaboutmydisasterofaweddingday—butI’mnot.
Iwassettomarrysomeoneoutofduty,notoutoflove.I’ddreamedaboutmyweddingsinceIwasalittlegirl.AndI’dgivenuponthatdreamenoughtoagreetospendtherestofmylifelegallyattachedtoamanwhodoesn’tcareaboutmeatalltohelpmyfathercloseadeal.
Itsoundsarchaic.Itsoundsinsane.
Ilovemyfather.He’salwaysbeengoodtomeanddotedonhisonlychild,butthere’sanigglingvoiceinsidemethatsaysifhelovedmeasmuchasIlovehim,hewouldn’thaveaskedmetomarryamantofurtherhisfinancialinterests.
It’snotsomethingItellJasper.Healreadydislikesmydadandthatgetsmefeelingdefensive—whetherornothedeservesmydefense.
Wedriveinsilenceandstopforcoffeeattheclosestdrive-throughthat’sopenthisearlyonaSunday.Closertothecity,wepullintoaWalmart,andItellJasperI’lljustzipintograbwhatIneed.Heignoresmeandunfoldshimselffromthedriver’sseat,grumblingaboutnotlettingmegoinalone.
Iwaddlethroughtheparkinglot,hangingbackbecauseIhavetoholdthehugesweatpantsupsoIdon’tdropthemandflashhim.I’vealwayswantedtogetnakedwithJasper—butnotlikethat.
Coffeeinhand,Igrabafewsimplechangesofclothes.Leggings.Jeans.AndthenIseeit.Myeyeslight,andIspeedwaddlethroughthebrandedclothingsection,straighttowardwhatIneed.
“No.”JaspersaysfrombehindmeasIreachforward.
“Yes,”Ireply,grinningasIturnbacktohim,holdinguponeofhisjerseys.Numberoneemblazonedacrosstheback.
Hiseyesnarrow,andhegivesmeaflatlookfrombeneaththebrimofhishat.“Whereareyouevengoingtowearthat?”
IrollmyeyesathimbecauseIcanseethefaintblushonthetopsofhischeeks,thetipsofhisearsgoingjustalittlered.Jasperhasneverbeencomfortablewithhisfame.It’salwaysmadehimsquirm.“Toyourgametonight,obviously.”
“You’recomingtomygame?”Hisheadquirksandhelookssoboyish.
“Duh.”Iaddthejerseytothepileofclothesovermyarmandheadofftothedressingroomintheeerilyquietstore.It’ssoearlythatthereisn’tevenmusicplaying.AllIcanhearisthehumoftheoverheadlightsthatcastaterribleyellowglowovermyfaceasItryonmyclothes.
Ilookexhausted.
Iamexhausted.TheonlythingkeepingmegoingishowbadlyJasperneedssomeonetobethereforhim.AndI’mdeterminedtobethatsomeone.Especiallyafterhesprungmefrommywedding.
I’mjustreturningthefavor.That’swhatItellmyself.BecausethealternativeisthatI’mjustrevelinginspendingtimealonewithhim,andIdon’twanttobethatmoon-eyedlovesickgirlwhofollowshimaroundanymore.Iwanttobestrongandindependent.Andagoodfriend.Becausethat’swhathereallyneedsrightnow.
“Wow.Thisjerseylookssooogoodonme,”Iannouncefrominsidethedressingroom,pesteringhimabit,becauseIknowhe’sleanedupagainsttheoppositewall,alllonglimbsandnavy-blueeyesfocusedonthedoor.Somehowevenchangingwithhimthisclosefeelsintenselypersonal.
Irollmyeyesatmyself.Butsmilewhenhegroans.
“Whereareyougoingtogoafterthegame?”iswhathecomesbackwith.
“Imean…”Itrailoff,assessingmyselfinthemirrorandoptingtoleavethejerseyon.It’sbigandcomfy,andIcantellthatunderneathallofJasper’sgrumbling,hefindsitamusing.“Iwasthinkingwe’dgobackouttotheranch.IguessIshouldhaveaskedwhatyourplansare.Icheckedyourschedule.You’vegotagoodstretchofhomegames.”
“Yeah.Four.”
Iflingthedooropenwithadramaticflourishandstrikeaposeinmynewleggingsandjersey.“HowdoIlook?”
Herollshiseyesandfoldsthebrimofhishat.ButIdon’tmissthetwitchofhislipsorthewayhisgazetrailstomybodyandrakesovermylegs.
“Itmightbealatenightifwedriveallthewayback.”Heholdsonearmopentoushermeaheadofhim,andIgo,nolongerworriedaboutdroppingmypantsinfrontofhim.
“That’sfine.”
“Wecouldalwaysstayatmyplaceinthecity.”Thewordsarestrained.
Istopinmytracksandturnbacktohim,craningmynecktolookhimintheeye.“Isthatwhatyouwant?Idon’tknowwhatIwant,otherthantonotfacerealityyet.I’dliketokeepmyheadinthesandforatleastonemoreday.SoI’llgowhereveryougo.”
Hissapphireeyesdroptomylipsforamomentandthendragbackup.“No.I’dratherbeattheranchwitheveryone.Justincase.”
Justincase.Justincasethere’sanynews,Iassume.
“Youcouldtelltheteamyouneedanightoff.”
Heshakeshisheadanddropsawarmhandonmyshoulderasheturnsusaround.“No.Itwillfeelgoodtoplay.Normal.Plus,theteamneedsme.”
Inod,becauseIknowthatfeeling.Dancinguntilmybodyachesandsweatdripsdownmybackwouldbeacomfortrightaboutnow.
“CanIweartheseout?”Iaskthedressingroomattendantaswedrawuptothepodium.
Sheeyesmecarefully.“Sure,doll.Letmecutthetagsoff,andthenyouneedtohavethemscannedatthecheckout.”
Iofferhermybestreassuringsmile,tryingreallyhardnottoappearlikeacriminal.“Ofcourse.Thankyou.”ShepeeksatthejerseyandthenglancesupatJasper,eyeswideningslightlywhensheputsittogether.“AreyouJasperGervais?”HersilverbobswishesasherheadflipsbetweenhimandthejerseyI’mwearing.
“Yes,ma’am.”Jaspersmiles,alwayssograciouswithhisfans.Anyonewhodoesn’tknowhimwouldn’tpickuponhisdiscomfort.Thewayhisneckgoesalittletight.Thewayhisthumbpressesintothetipsofhisfingers.
“Mygrandsonsarejustthebiggestfans.Anychanceyou’dsign…”Sheglancesaround,tryingtofindsomething.“Ohgosh.Idon’tknow.Something?APost-itnote?TheboyswouldlovethisforChristmas.”
Iseehisbodysoftenassoonasshestartstalkingabouthergrandsons.IknowJaspervolunteerswithatriskyouthsportsprogramsandhasahugesoftspotforkids.“Ofcourse.I’llwaithere.Whydon’tyougograbacoupleshirtsintheirsizes?I’lltakethetagsandbuythemtoo.”
Thewoman’shandsclaspupinfrontofherchest.“Oh,youareasweetboy,”shegushes,lookingathimwithheartsinhereyes.
AndIcan’tevenblameher.Iamtoo.
“I’llberightback!AndIwon’ttellanyoneelseandholdyouup.Butgosh,they’lljustlovethis.Thankyousomuch!”
Withinminutes,she’sbackwithaSharpieandtwotinylittleshirts,lookinglikethehappiestwomanalive.IwatchJasper’shulkingframebendoverthepodiumashepersonalizeseachshirtcarefully,checkingthespellingoftheirnamessohegetsitjustright.Herwordssweetboybouncearoundinmyhead.Jasperhasalwaysbeenasweetboy.
Butgod,hegrewuptobeadamngoodman.
Momentslater,allthetagsarecutandJasperwalksmeoutintothestore,seemingalittlecalmerthanhedidbefore.
“Justafewmorethings.”
Hesaysnothing,whichIusuallytakeashisassent.SoIwalkahead,veeringforthemakeupaisle.Afterseeingmyselfunderthoseneonlights,IdesperatelyneedalittlesomethingtocoverupthebagsandgeneralzombielookIhavegoingon.
Concealerismyfirststop.ItrytopickabrandbutrealizeIknownoneofthem.I’vecometoWalmartforlaundrydetergent,notmakeup.Pickingoneup,Iassessit.Ifitwasn’tforthelabel,itwouldlookexactlylikemygo-toconcealer.
IturntoJasper.“Doyouthinkwhat’sinsideoftheseisreallyallthatdifferent?Like,Iusuallypay$50foratubethesamesize.Doyouthinktheyjustslapdifferentlabelsontheminthesamefactoryandthenlaughattherichpeoplewhopaymoreforthesameshit?”
Hislipstwitchashewatchesmeclosely.“Ilovethewayyourbrainworks,Sunny.”
“I’mserious!Thisisfivedollars,Jas.Thatisaninetypercentdiscount!”
“Well,youcan’tfaultthatfancyprivateschooleducation.”
Isnortandwagmyhead.“I’mtestingit.Thiscouldbelifechanging.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Hesoundslikehedoesn’tbelieveme.“Jas.Haveyouseenthistranslucentskin?Theniceblueveinthatrunsundermyrighteye?Concealerismybestfriend.”
“IthoughtIwasyourbestfriend.”Thestatementissosimpleandyetitwindsme.
Iturnbacktothewallofalarminglyaffordableconcealerandscoff.“Youcanbothbe.It’smutuallybeneficialreally.Youdon’twanttoseemetoooftenwithoutconcealer.”
“Youalwayslookgoodtome.Concealer,noconcealer.Fancydress,Harvey’ssweatsuit.Smoothhair”—hishandwavesovermewithalowchuckle—“whateverthisis.Itdoesn’tmatter.You’reyou.”
Iswallowandtrymybestnottomeltontothefloorintoasquishypileofmush.“That’sprobablywhatyoutellallthegirls,Gervais.”
“Nah,Sunny.You’remyonlygirl.”
Atinny,awkwardlaughfiltersupoutofmythroatasIreachforwhatIthinkwillbeaclose-enoughcolormatch.Idothesamewithasoft,shimmerypinkblushandaplain,blackest-blackmascara.
ThenIhustleoutofthataisle,hopingJasperwillfollowandleavethatuncomfortableexchangebehind.
Joke’sonme,though,becausenextstopisunderwear,andmywishcametrue.Jasperfollowed.Rightupbehindme.
Istarebackattheshelffullofdifferentcutsofblackunderwear.“Bootyshort,bikinicut,orthong?Ordoesyourruleofeverythinglooksgoodonmeapplyheretoo?”Iblurtoutinanattemptatmakingthislessawkwardthanitisinmyheadrightnow.
Ifail.Thingsareofficiallynotlessawkward.
Jaspermakesalowgroaningnoiseandavoidseyecontact.“Itapplies,”ishisstrangledreply.
WhenIpeekbackathim,Idon’tmissthepinkstainonhischeeks,andIlaugh,allshrillandforced,reallytryingtosalvagemyselfafterwhatIjustaskedhimoutloud.
ThenIswipeapackofthongsandamatchingbra,avoidingJasper’seyesasIheadtothecheckoutlanes.Andwithinminuteswe’repaidup,backininhisSUV,wordlesslyheadingtowardthecity—theplaceneitherofusreallywantstobe.
IwatchJasperskateoutofthemouthofamassive,firebreathingbear’sheadsetupinthecorneroftherink.Hestrikesanimposingimage,hispadsaddingbulktohisalreadytoweringheight.
Undertheflashinglights,heglidesacrosstheicetowardhisnet,everymovementsomehowmatchingthebeatoftheMetallicasongblaringfromthespeakers.Hisheadisdownandthecrowdiswild.
TheGrizzliesarecomingoffabadseason.Areallybadseason.Someplayerslefttheteam,butnotJasper.He’salreadygotanOlympicgoldunderhisbelt,andhe’snotthetypetojumparoundchasingachampionshipanywayhecangetit.Hewantstowinhere.
IdoubtedJasperwouldeverwaivehisno-movementclause.Helockedinalongcontractwiththegoalofstayingclosetohisfamily—totheranch—probablyuntiltheendofhiscareer.
Whatlittleboydoesn’tdreamofplayingforhishometownteam?
Betweenthepipes,hestartsatoneendofhiscrease,methodicallyslicinghisbladesacrossthespace,scratchinguptheicesurfacetogivehimselfextragrip.
There’ssomethingaboutthismomentthatalwaysentrancesme.Helookssosmooth,sorhythmic,soutterlyinthezonethatIcanneverbringmyselftolookaway.
IlovealotofthingsaboutJasper,buthimbeingthisdamngoodatsomethingneverhurtshisappeal.
Tomeortootherwomen.
ItamptheenvydownasIglancearoundthefamilyandfriendsskybox.I’vebeeninhereacoupleoftimesbutalwayswithmycousins.
Neverbymyself.
Thevibeisfunandlighthearted,butI’mdefinitelygarneringsomelooks.EspeciallysinceI’mdeckedoutinanoversizeGervaisjersey,andI’marecognizableenoughfaceinthiscity.
“You’reherewithJasper?”Aperfectlyput-togetherbrunettewomanappearsbesideme,bouncingababyinherarms.
“Yeah.”Ismile.
Sheeyesmebutnotinanunfriendlyway.“What’syourname?”
“Sloane.You?”
“Callie.”Sheheftsthebabyupandsticksonehandouttome.
Weshake,andIfindmyselflikingthewoman.Herhandshakeisfirm,butsheisn’tsqueezingthehelloutofmyhandinsomeweirdshowofaggression.
“Jasperdoesn’tusuallyhaveanyoneuphere.”
MyeyesdartbackdowntotheicewhereJasperissquirtingastreamofwaterintohisopenmouththroughthecageacrosshisface.“No?”IaskquietlybecauseI’vealwaysmadeapointofnotaskingabouthispersonallife.
Alwaysfeltlikeitwouldhurttoomuchtoknow.
I’vebeenswallowingthegreen-eyedmonsterfordecades,butshehasn’tstayeddown.Sheleapsuponmeunexpectedly.
Potently.
“It’sgotallthegirlstalking.Hispersonallifeisarealmysterytousall,”Calliecontinues,chuckingherchinoverhershoulderasthepuckdropsandthegameclockstarts.
“Ah.”Iglanceinthatdirectionandseemultipleheadsflipawayquickly,likechildrencaughtstaring.“Ifit’sanyconsolation,I’veknownJaspersinceIwasten,andhe’sstillabitofmysterytome.”
“Ten!”Hereyesbulgecomicallyandthenshesighs.“Well,thatisjustadorable.”
Ismilebutit’stight.Adorable.Morelikepainful.
Andthatpainonlygrowsastheminutestickon.Becausecircumstancesdoomedthisgamefromthestart.Jasperisrightfullydistracted.Hisheadiscertainlynotonthepucksheadingtowardhimatblisteringspeeds.
Theopposingteamscoresfirst,lessthanoneminuteintothegame.Andit’snotagoodgoal.It’soneIknowJasperwouldwantback.
Theyscoreagainfiveminuteslater.
Inibbleatmynails,thepinkweddingpolishpeelingawayasIdo.
Twominuteslaterathirdshotfindsthebackofthenet.
Igroanandbitemybottomliphardenoughthattheinsideofitbleeds.
AndwhenJasperletsinafourthgoalbeforethefirsttwentyminutesofplayhaveelapsed,Ihavetoblinkbackmytears.Notbecausethey’relosing,butbecausewatchinghimskateoff—headlow,shouldersslumped—aftergettingpulledfromthegamemakesmychestache.
Iknowhe’scountinghimselfresponsible.
HelooksliketheboyImetallthoseyearsago—devastated.
Andforthenextseveralgames,itdoesn’tgetanybetter.7Jasper
Sloane:HaveItoldyouthatyou’remyfavoritegoaltenderintheworld?
Jasper:Youhavebadtaste.
Sloane:You’restillmyfav.
Jasper:Youmightbetheonlyonetonight.
Sloane:Correction.Favoritehockeyplayer.Numberonefanrighthere.
Jasper:Knowalotofhockeyplayers,doyou?
Sloane:Onlythebestone.I’llbeattheplayer’sexit.
Alossneverfeelsgood,butsomehowtonightfeelsworse.I’vestartedfourgamesinarowbecausethisorganizationtrustsme.Mycoachtrustsme.Andwe’velostfourgamesinarow.Thisentirehomestandstraightdownthetoilet.
Itweighsonmyshoulders.
I’veletmyteammatesdown.Mycoaches.Theentirecity,whoissoinvestedinthisteam’ssuccess.
IfeellikeIletBeaudownsomehow.LikeIcouldn’tevenwinitforhim.I’vealsobeenamiserableassholetoeveryonearoundme.AndIletBeaudowninthattoo,becausethatmanwouldplasterasmileandbekindnomatterwhat.
Thenthere’stheheart-stoppingblondewho’sbeenupintheskyboxeverynight,supportingme.IspendthegamestryingtokeepmyselffromlookingupatherasIsitonthebench,beatingmyselfup.AsthoughI’dbeabletomakeheroutupthereanyway.
TonightI’veshoweredandchangedbutI’mdisappointed.I’msadbutI’malsoangry.Iwalkdownthebacktunneltowardthepressgallery.Ihatethispartofmynightaftergoodgames,butIdon’teventhinkthereisawordforhowitfeelstostringtogetherfourshitgamesinarowandthenbeforcedtotalkaboutitontherecord.
Torture,maybe.
IknowI’veplayedbad.Myteamknows.Thereportersknow.Andnowwe’reallgoingtositdownandtalkaboutitpublicly.Fuckingperfect.
TheminuteIstepontothestagewithalongtableonitIhearthesnappingofcameras.AfewjournalistsIrecognizesaytheirhellos.Igivethematersenodandfoldthebrimofmyhat.ThenIpulloutachair,sitdownnexttomycoach,andtakeadeepbreath.
FirstquestioncomesfromareporterI’veseenbefore,onewhoalwaysasksthemostobnoxiousquestions.Likehe’sintentionallytryingtotripusupforaflashysoundbite.“Hi.MikeHollowayfromtheCalgaryTribune.Jasper,whydon’tyoutelluswhathappenedouttheretonight?”
Ifighttheurgetorollmyeyes.That’snotaquestion,andheknowswhathappenedouttheretonight.Hesawit.Makingmerecountittohimisjustadickmove.
“Well,Mike.Asyousaw,Iwasn’tmybesttonight.Notevenclose.Iknowwhattheteamneedsfromme,andIcouldn’tdeliver.TherewereacouplegoalsI’dhavelikedback,thentheyhadacouplegoodchancesandjustgotthebestofme.Obviously,thosearesavesIneedtobemakingifwe’regoingtomakearunthisyear.”
“Yeah,”theslightlyround,middle-agedmanreplies.“Thankyou.Followuptothat.Itseemsthisisthenewnormalforyou.Wonderingwhatyou’redoingtochangethingsup?Thisyearfeelsdoordiefortheteam.Lotsofpeoplewouldlovesomeinsightintoyourtrainingplanstogetyourselfbackintofightingshape.”
Irollmylipstogetherandnod,feelingadropofwaterrolloffthelongendsofmyhairdownthebackofmyneck.Mycoach,Roman,glancesatmebutsaysnothing.HeknowsIhatethisshitatthebestoftimes,andhe’sreadytojumpinifnecessary.
“Specificsaresomethingthatstaybetweenmeandthetrainingstaff.ButIassureyouI’mworkinghard.NoonewantsthismorethanIdo.Definitelyputtinginthetimewiththesportspsychologist.I’llberefocusingonmymentalgameinthecomingweeks.Icantellyouthatmuch.”
Andit’snotalie.Mymentalgameistrashrightnow.Ithoughtplayingwouldprovidemeadistraction,butIshouldhavelistenedtoSloane.IfIhad,Iwouldn’thaveletmyteamdownthisway.
“Pardonmysayingso,butitalmostseemslikeyoumightbealittletoocomfortableinthelongcontractyoujustsigned.”
Iblinkatthemanbeforeme.Theonewholookslikehehasn’texercisedinyears,letaloneplayedanysportatanelitelevelinhisentirelife.
“Well,then.Withyourpermission,Mike,I’mgoingto”—Ihikeathumbovermyshoulder—“takeoffandgettoworkonmytraining.Trytogetmyselfalittlemoreuncomfortableforyou.”
Irisefromtheplasticfoldingchairandstandtall,hearingRomanjumpinwithsomecommentaboutkeepingquestionsrespectful.ButIdon’treallycare.FuckMikeandfuckthispressconference.
Ineedout.
OnequickstopinthedressingroomandIhavemybagandcarkeys.I’malmostoutthedoorwithoutsayinganything.Ijustwanttolickmywoundsinprivate,buttheguysdeservemore.Theydeserveanexplanation.
Iturn,grippingthedoorframe,eyeingtheroom.“Guys.I’msorry.I’vebeenanassholetheselastseveralgames,”Iannouncetomyteammatesstillmullingaround.Idon’ttalkmuch,butwhenIdo,theylisten.“Mybrother,theoneinthemilitary,wentmissinginactionlastweek,andmyheadisfucked-up.Youalldeservebetterfromme.AndIwantyoutoknowthatI’mworkingonit.”
Headssnapuparoundtheroom.Thesilenceisdeafening.
“Jesus,Gervais.”Withthreelongstrides,Damonispullingmeintoahug,slappingmeontheback,andtheotherguysarecrowdinginwithconcernpaintedontheirfaces.Damonstepsback,handssqueezingmyshouldersashelooksmeintheeyeandgivesmealittleshake.“Youshouldhavetoldus.Hockeyisjustagame.Familyisfamily.”
“Jasper.”Ihearmycoach’svoicebehindmeandstiffen.He’sagooddude.Butevengooddudeshavetheirlimits.Andhesoundspissed.“Let’stalkinthehallway.”
Hishandlandsonmyshouldertoturnmeawayfrommyteammates,whoalllookonwide-eyed.IhearajokeabouthowI’vereallymadeDadmadthistime,andmylipstwitch.
IshutthelockerroomdoorbehindusandfinallyliftmyeyestomeetRoman’s.They’repinchedatthesides,andhisthickarmsarecrossedoverhisbroadchest.YearsintheleaguehimselfmeanRomanKingisstillfitinhisforties.Stillacompetitor.
Stillrememberswhatit’slike.
“Idon’tknowwhethertohityouorhugyou.”
Imirrorhispositionandglarebackathim.He’sstillgotbulk,butI’vegotafewinchesonhim.“IwouldhitmeifIwereyou.”
“Well,ifIwereyou,Iwouldhavetoldmycoachthatmypersonallifewasaheapingpileofdevastatingshit.”
Irollmyeyes,feelinglikeapetulantchild.“Ididn’twanttotalkaboutit.Idon’twanttobetreatedlikeI’mfragile.”
Abroadhandwavesinfrontofme.“Spoileralert.Youarefragile.”
“Fuckyou,Roman.”
Hisjawticks.“I’mgonnaletthatoneslidetonight.”
“Ididn’ttellyoumyshittylifestorysoyoucouldholditoverme.”Romanhasn’tonlybeenacoach,he’sbeenamentor.Heknowsmychildhoodshookoutpoorly.HeknowsaboutJenny.AndheknowsI’mananxiouscontrolfreakandthatthosecharactertraitsarewhyIcontinuetoputmyselfintheneteverynight.
Icravethecontrolthepositionoffersme.Itsoothesme.Noonetoblamebutmyselfwhenashotgoeswrong—whichIknowisn’ttrue,butit’showIseeit.
“I’mnotholdingyourpastoveryou,Jasper.Thisisme,asyourfriend,beingconcerned.Asyourcoachthough?I’mpissedyouhaven’tdisclosedthis.Whatthehellwereyouthinking,keepingthisunderwraps?”
Isighraggedly,myexhaustionseepinginattheedgesofmyeyes.Itsmellslikesweatandrubberhere,andallIwantistobeinthesafetyofmycar,sittingbesideagirlwhoiswearingmyjerseyandsmellslikecoconut.“I’msorry.I’llgetmyheadrightbeforethenextgame.Ipromise.”
Hiseyesaresadnow,andheshakeshisheadatme.“Jasper,youneedtotakesometime.It’snormaltotakesometime.”
Mynosewrinklesathisimplication.“It’snormaltotakesometimewhenthere’sbeenadeathinthefamily.Beauisn’tdead.”
Pity.It’swrittenclearasdayonmycoach’sface.AndIhatebeingpitied
“He’snot,Roman.AndI’mnotgoingtostartactinglikeheisuntilIknowsomething.”Panicleachesintomyvoice.Isoundfranticeventomyself.IcanonlyimaginehowIsoundtohim.
“Jasper—”
“No.I’llbeheretomorrowforpractice,andI’llbereadytoplaythenextgame.I’llberightasrain.Headinthegame.”Thewayheshakeshisheadatmesayshedoesn’tbelieveme.
“StoplookingatmelikeI’madeaddeeronthesideoftheroadthatyou’resadabout.”
“You’regoingtotakesometimeoff,Jasper.Iknowyou.Iknowthewayyourheadworks.AndIknowhownearanddearyourfamilyistoyou.Damonwasright,familyfirst.Hockeysecond.”
“Idon’tneed—”
“You’resuspended,”hebitesout.
Myentirebodygoesrigid.“Comeagain?”
“Atwo-weeksuspensionfornotdisclosingthistomanagement.We’llcallitaleaveofabsenceinthepressrelease.”
“Youhavetobefuckingkiddingme.Theteamneedsme!Thepressisgoingtohaveafuckingheydaywiththis!”
Theoldermanjustpullsmeintoaroughhug,ignoringmyarguments.“Yourfamilyneedsyoumore,”iswhathegrumbleswhilegivingmeatightsqueeze.Andthenhe’spullingaway,givingmeanotherofthosetragiclooks.“Thepressisalreadyhavingaheydaywithyou.Hockeywillstillbehereintwoweeks.Yourheadisn’tontheice,anditshouldn’tbe.Stayintouch.”
Andthenhewalksaway,dressshoesclackingagainsttheconcretefloorslikeit’sjustanothernormalday.Liketheworldisn’ttotal,uttershit.
LikeoneofthebestpeopleI’veeverknownhasn’tvanishedinsomesecretcorneroftheworld,onsomeclassifiedmission,wheregod-knows-whathashappenedtohim.
Therealityoftheentiresituationhitsmelikeawreckingballtothechest
Whatifhe’sdead?
Whatifheneedshelp?
Andtheworstpossibilityofall,whatifwejustneverfindhim?
Readytogetthefuckawayfromeverything,Imarchoutthedoorsintothelobby.It’swherefanswaitforautographsandpuckbunnieswaitforashotataplayer.
Butthere’sonlyonepersonwaitingwhoIwanttosee.
Thebeautifulgirlwearingmyjerseywhofeelslikehome.Theonewhohasbarelyleftmysideforoveraweek.Webothknowshe’shidingfromtherealitiesofherlife,butsoamI.We’rekindredthatway,andwedon’tpickateachotheraboutit.
EveryonegetsignoredasImakemywaytoher.Idon’tknowwho’sthereorwhatpeoplearesaying.IhavetunnelvisionandallIseeisSloane.
I’mgrumpyandmiserable.Theworldisdark,butshe’slikethemoonwhenwesatontheroof.Brightandpure,sheddingasilverylightovereverythingsothatIcanstillseewhereI’mgoing.
Herarmsclamparoundmywaist,thelookshegivesmeispureloveandsupport,andthenherheaddropstomychest.Comfortingmewithoutsayingaword.Itakeadeeppullofherscentandclosemyeyestopushawaytheintrusivethoughtsthreateningtotugmeunder.
Everythingintheworldfeelswrong.
ButstandingherewithSloaneinmyarmsfeelsright.8Sloane
Sloane:Justdroppingyoualinetosayhi.Hopeyougothomesafe.AndtoremindyouthatIloveyoudearly.
Violet:Iloveyoutoo.
Sloane:I’msendingyouthebiggesthugs,Vi.
Violet:He’llbeokay.Hehastobe,right?
Sloane:Definitely.
Violet:Thatgamewas…oof.IsJasperokay?
Sloane:No.
Violet:Heneedsyoumorethanherealizes.Don’tleavehim.You’rehisperson.
Sloane:Iwon’t.
ThewayJasperclutchesmyhandaswewalkoutofthearenafeelsdifferent.
Itfeelsdesperate.
Wedon’ttalk.HejustgripsmelikeI’maflotationdeviceandhe’sstrandedinaroughsea.Thefrigidairbitesatusaswewalkacrosstheparkinglot,andIfeelridiculousnexttohim.I’minrippedjeanswithanoversizejersey,andhelookslikesexinasuit,complementedbyastubbledchinandhairabitlongerinthebacksoitcurlsalongthenapeofhisneck.
He’sagooddistractionfromthephonethat’sburningaholeinmypursefromtheamountofmissedcallsandtextsit’shousing.I’veopeneditoccasionallyandthenpromptlyputitaway.
ThemasstextIsentlettingeveryoneknowI’msafebutdecidedtogetoutoftownpromptedmanyreactions.EverythingfromyougogirltogrowupandfacethemusictoanutterlycharminggetyourassbackhomeandstopembarrassingyourselffromSterling.
Irespondedwithanoverlysweetgofuckyourselfandhaven’tsaidanotherwordtohimsince.
Catchmelivinginthatpenthouseagainnever.
AmIbeingchildish?Hidingfrommyresponsibilities?Imean,yeah.ButthemoretimeIhavetothinkabouteverythingthat’sledmehere…abouthowarealfamilyunitbehaveswhensomethingbadhappens…themoreIwonderhowthefuckIgottowhereIam.
HowdidIagreetomarrySterlinginthefirstplace?
Andhowdaremyfatherthinkitwasappropriatetoaskthatofme?
Itwouldbegoodforbusiness,youknow?You’dmakeahandsomecouple.Sometimesmarriagesaremoreofabusinesstransactionthanalovematchwhenyoutravelinthecircleswedo.Andthat’snothingtobeashamedof,Sloane.
Nothingtobeashamedof.Itmadeacold,calculatingkindofsenseinthemomentandfeltlikeaneffortlesswayoutofableakanduninspiringdatingscene.Noonewaseveruptoparforme.Theywerealljustokay.Fine.Passable.AndIhadstartedtothinkIwastoopicky.
Thedatingscenehadturnedintomyownreal-lifeversionofoneofthoseWish.commemes.IkeptplacinganorderforJasperGervaisandtheuniversekeptsendingmetheselaughablecheap-assknockoffs.
Sohearinghowanarrangedmarriagewasn’tshamefulprovidedmewithsomesenseof…relief.LikeIcouldatleasthelpmyfamilyifIwasn’tinterestedincontinuingtoflailaroundwithonlinedatingorfellowdancers.
Itwasn’tuntilIsawthatvideoofanotherwomanbouncingonmyfiancé’slapthattheshamehit.Andnotshamebecausehewascheatingonme.ShamebecauseIfeltnothingatall.Onlyatwistedsenseofamusement.LikeIknewthiswouldhappenandcouldn’tevendrumuptheemotiontocareaboutit.
Andthatwasshameful.Thatwasn’thowIimaginedmylifeplayingout.Thatwasn’twhatIdeserved.
Sure,therewasatimewhenIimaginedmylifeplayingoutwithJasper—along-asstime—butthefurtheronwegotwithourlives,themoreIpackagedthatdreamupandpusheditbackintoarecessofmymind.
Thatwouldneverhappen.
ImaginingsomethinghappeningbetweenuswasrightonparwithmakingoutwithmypillowandpretendingitwasJustinTimberlake.Hewasfamous,impossiblyhandsome,andlivingacompletelydifferentlife.
ButJustinTimberlakeisn’ttheoneclutchingmyhandrightnow.
IsqueezeJasper’shandabsently,thesoundofhisdressshoesclackingagainstthepavementechoingthroughtheparkinggarage.
Hesqueezesback.
Ipeekupatmyfriendandnotethewayhisnormallygoldenskinhaspaledandtakenonagrayishquality.Hehasn’tbeenhimselfthisweek.He’sretreatedandbecomeanorneryshellofthemanIknow.
IhearthejangleofhiskeysinhisoppositepocketandseethelightsonhisVolvoflashaheadofus.Adrysobheavesupinhischest,andmychindartsuphighertolookcloselyathim.
“What’swrong,Jas?”Isqueezethreetimesinquicksuccessiononhishand,buthedoesn’tsqueezebackthistime.
Hestopsinhistracks,shutteringhiseyelids.Hisnostrilsnarrowashedesperatelysucksairinthroughthem.Thenhejerkshishandfrommine.ViolentlyenoughthatIrecoilinshock.Withlongsteps,helurchespastmetowardathickpillarandemptieshisstomachontothepavement.
I’mjustdepravedenoughtoletmyeyessnagonhisassashebendsover,themuscledcurveofitpressedagainsthisexpensiveslacks.
It’slikeI’mtryingtogivemyselfthingstobeashamedof.
Hestands,panting,strongfingersgrippingthepillar,asairpullsandpushesinandoutthroughhisdiaphragm.
Iwanttoaskhimifhe’sokay,butthat’sastupidquestionrightnow.He’sclearlynotokay.FiguringthebestIcandoismakemyselfuseful,IopenthebackhatchofhisSUVanddiveintoahockeybag,onthehuntforabottledwaterorawipeoratowel,orliterallyjustanythingtocleanhimup.
AplasticGatoradepull-topsportsbottleisthebestIcanfind,alongwithatowelthatsmellslikesomethingdead.
“JesusChrist,”Imutter,grabbingthemandzippingthebagupquicklybecausetheentirethingstinks.
“Sorry,”Ihearfrombehindme.
“Forwhat?”Isqueezewaterontothetowelandwalktowardhim.
“Gettingsick.”
Myhandlandsbetweenhisshoulderblades,slidingonthesilkyfabricofhissuitjacket.“Noneed.”Ihandthetoweltohim,andhedropshisfaceintoit.“It’syourhockeybagyoushouldbesorryfor.Thattowelsmellslikemoldycheeseandnotthegoodkind.”
Aquietchuckleshakeshisbody.OratleastIthinkit’salaugh.It’shardtotellwithoutbeingabletoseehisface.
“Givemethekeys,Jasper.I’lldriveus.”
“Notachance,”hesaysashewipesthetoweloverhisface.
“Listen,Iknowyoudon’tlikewhenotherpeopledrive.ButIpromiseI’llbefine.”
Heshakeshishead,peekingatmefromoveronebroadshoulder.“No.”
Irollmyeyesandsighdramaticallywhilecontinuingtorubslowcirclesonhisback.“Controlfreak.”
Hestiffensslightlybeforegivingatersenod.“Yup.”
“Atleastyouownit.”
Heglancesatmeagainashetossesthetowelinanearbygarbagecan,butthistimethere’salookinhiseyethatwasn’ttherebefore.“Yeah,”ishisfaintresponse.
Thenheclampsmyhandbackinhisandwalksmetothepassengerside,whereheopensthedoorandushersmeintomyseatwhileavoidingeyecontact.Idon’tknowifit’stheoutcomeofthegame,thefacthejusthurledinfrontofmeorthatIcalledhimacontrolfreak,butthere’sanewtensionintheair.
Shamehitsmeagain.
Jasper’shavingoneoftheworstweeksofhislife,andI’mpsychoanalyzingifhe’supsetwithmewhileheholdsmyhandandopensacardoorforme.
Ishakemyheadatmyselfishnessasthedoorslamsandhegetsinbesideme.
“Ranch?”heasksasheslideshislongarmoverthebackofmyseat.We’vepulledouttogetherinacaramilliontimes,exceptnowthenearnessofhimfeelsheavyandunfamiliar.
“Yeah.”Isighandsinkbackintotheplushleatherseat.“Ranch.”
Wemakethesamedrivewe’vemadeseveraltimesinthepastweek.Nomusicplays.AllIhearisthewhitenoiseofairrushingthroughtheventsasIswitchbetweenstaringoutthedarkenedwindowandthenbackatJasper’scarefullyblankface.
“Youknowthesaying‘therearenostupidquestions’?”
Hiseyesslicemywayandhenodsoncefirmly.
“WoulditstillbetrueifIaskedyouifyou’reokay?”
Hischeektwitches,andIwatchhishandstwistonthesteeringwheel.
“Sunny,Iamsofarfromokay,it’snotevenfunny.”
Myhearttwistsinmychest,andmytonguedartsoutovermylowerlipasIcontinuetoregardhim,rackingmybrainforwhattosaynext.
“Nothingyousayisstupidthough,”hequicklyadds.
Ismileflatlyandlookoutoverthedash.LeaveittoJasperGervaistosaysomethinglikethatwhenI’vespentthelastfivemonthsengagedtosomeonewhoconstantlymademefeellikethethingsIhadtosayweredumb.
AndIjustlethim.Iputahandovermythroatinasadattempttoquelltheachethere.
Thisisn’tmynighttocry.
“Coachsuspendedmefortwoweeks.”
“What?”Iexclaim,turninginmyseattofacehim.“Why?Everygoaliehitsroughpatches.”
“BecauseIneverdisclosedwhat’sgoingon.HeknowshowIam.Heknowsmyheadissomewhereelse,andasmuchasIfuckin’hatetoadmitit,he’sright.IwannabeouttherebutIalso…”Hetrailsoff,broadhandsrotatingonthewheelinfrustration.
Hedidn’ttellthemaboutBeau?God.Thismanisavault,lockedupsodamntight.He’salwaysbeenamanoffewwords,evenaroundme.Butatthismoment,it’snotlikehecan’tfindthewords.Iknowhecan.It’smorelikeitpainshimtowrenchthemfromhimself.Likestayingquietandintrospectiveishisbestdefensemechanism.
Iknowhe’smoreopenwithmethanheiswithmostpeople.Softer,lessgrowly.SoIprovidecautiously,“Youalsowanttocurlupinbedandcry?”
BecauseifIfeelthatwayrightnow,hemusttoo.
Acurtnodwitheyesfixedonthedarkroadiswhatheoffersback,whichisaboutasmuchasIexpectedfromhim.
Aloudvibratingsoundechoesagainstsomethinginmypurse,fillingthealreadytensevehiclewithanotherlayerofanxiety.
Withadeepsenseofdread,Ipullmyphoneoutandstareatit.
It’smymom.Andthisisthefirsttimeshe’scalled.Herresponsetomymasstextwas,Takecareofyourself.Iloveyou.
IhavedozensofmissedphonecallsfrommydadandfromSterling,andfromcountless“friends.”I’vebeenreferringtotheminmyheadaslookie-loosbecauseifyouhaven’tspokentomeinyears,Idon’tknowwhyI’dchattoyouabouttheimplosionofmyweddingday.
Overthepastweek,I’velistenedtothevoicemailsfromSterlingandmydad,butIdidn’tdeletethem.Thatway,myinboxfillsandtheycan’tleavemore.Theirmessagesareangry,frantic,andentitled.BasicallythelastthingIfeellikedealingwith.
Butmymom?She’sanotherstoryalltogether.She…Iswearshelookedatmebeforetheweddinglikeshehadsomethingtosay.Herlipsparted,andherhandstretchedouttowardme.Shewassodamnclose.Beforeshecouldgetitout,mydadwalkedin,toldmeImadetheperfectbride,andwhiskedheraway.
Theexpressionsheshotmeoverhershoulderasheledheroutwaspleading.
Thephoneisstillvibratinginmyhand,andI’mstaringatitlikeatickingtimebombwhenJasperclearshisthroatandglancesoveratme.
Swallowinghard,Iswipetoanswer.“Hi,Mom.”
“Sloane.”Shebreathesmynamelikeit’sthereliefshe’sbeenseeking.
“Hi.I’m…”
“Ijustneedtohearyourvoice.Knowthatyou’resomewheresafe.”There’saslighttrembleinhervoice,andsuddenlythebackofmythroatacheswithaferocitythatstealsmybreath.Mysweet,supportivemom.Theonewholearnedtoputmyhairupinaperfectbun.Whodrovemetoeveryballetpracticeandrecital,nomatterhowearlyshehadtogetup.
I’dkillforahugfrommymomrightnow.Absolutelykill.
PeekingoveratJasper,Ireply,“I’msafe.”BecausehowcouldIfeelanythingbutsafe?Themanliterallybrokemeoutofmywedding,carriedmedownthestreet,andneverbattedaneyelash.
LikehejustknowsIneedhim,hereachesacrossthecenterconsoleandtakesmyhand.Fingerslinkingwithmine.
Iheararaggedsighontheotherendoftheline.“Good.Good.Areyou…goingawayforawhile?”Hervoicesoundsalmosthopefulnow.
Myheadquirksatheroddquestion.I’dexpectedMomtogrillmeaboutwhenIwascomingback.“Whywouldyouaskmethat?”
IlookoveratJasperagainandcatchhimwatchingme.He’slisteningandIdon’treallycare.There’sonlyonesecretI’mdesperatetokeepfromJasper—thatI’vebeenpatheticallyinlovewithhimforthebetterpartofmylife.
“Becausethat’swhatIwoulddoifIwereinyourposition.”Atinnylaughfollowsherstatement,andmyeyesbugoutatheradmission.
Iknowshemarriedintoawealthyfamilylikeherown,whilehersistermarriedHarveyandlivedaquieterlifeontheranch.I’veoftenwonderedifshe’shappyinhermarriagebutneverquiteworkedupthecouragetoask.
“Mom,I—”
Myphonediesinmyhand.
“Whathappened?”Jasper’svoiceisallgravel.
“It…itdied.”Ishakemyhead,runningherwordsofadvicethroughmymindonreplay.
“Andwhatdidshesay?”
“Shesaidifshewereme,she’dgoawayforawhile.”
“Whatabouttheballet?Youmustneedtogobacksoon.”
Iscoff.“Itookaleavetoplanthewedding.SoI’moffthroughChristmasbecauseIoptedoutofTheNutcracker.”
“Whydidyoutakealeave?Theweddingisjustoneday.”
Slumpingdownfurtherintotheseat,IletthebackofmyheadrollbackandforthasIconfesssomethingthatsoundssoasininemystomachcurdlesjustsayingitoutloud.“SterlingsaidIneededtobe”—Iholdmyhandsupinsarcasticairquotes—“presenttoplantheweddingandenjoythehoneymoon.”
IrunathumboverthesmallpinkscarfromwhereIcutmyselfwiththemassivediamondonmyfinger.Ishouldreallytakemyringoff.Ievenwanttotakeitoff.It’snotSterlingthatkeepsmefromdoingit.It’sthatIhavethisdeepsensethatonceIremoveit,everythinginmylifewillchange.I’llbeanewme,andnothingwilllookthesameanymore.Myfamily.Myupbringing.EverythingI’vecometoknow.
Andthatscaresme.
AmuscleinJasper’sjawpops,andtheskinoverhisknucklesthinsunderthepressureofhimsqueezingthesteeringwheel.“FuckingWoodcock.”
Isnortalaugh.Woodcock.
“Sowhatareyougoingtodo?”Thetipofhistonguecatchesbetweenhisstraightwhiteteeth,asthoughhe’sbitingittokeephimselffromsayinganythingmore.
“WhatdoyouthinkIshoulddo?”
Hismouthtwists.“Sunny,thelastthingyouneedinyourlifeisanothermantellingyouwhattodo.”
Isighandturnawaytostareatthedarkfieldsflashingpastthepassengerwindow.I’dkilltohaveJasperGervaistellmewhattodo.Thefacthedoesn’tthinkheshouldmakesmewantitevenmore.
Ineedsomeonetotakechargebutwithmybestinterestsinmind.Notabusiness.Notperception.Me.Myneeds.
“WhatwouldBeaudo?”Imurmurundermybreath.
Idon’tmeantosayitloudenoughthatJasperwillhearme,whichiswhyIstartwhenJasperrespondswith,“He’dgetthefuckouttadodgeandgodosomethingforhimself.”9Jasper
Cade:Whydon’tyoujoinusfordinnersoon?
Rhett:Beerstomorrow?
Roman:Ifyouneedtotalk,I’malwaysaround.Takecareofyourself.
Icurlupinmychildhoodbed,huddledinatightballlikeImightifIhadahangover.LikeifIjustliestillandquiet,Iwon’thurt.
ButthenIrememberthatmybrotherismissingandeverythinghurts.
Idon’tevenwanttothinkaboutit.IwanttopushitintothesamecornerwhereIkeepmysisterJenny.Butit’snotworking.Mymentalgameisshitrightnow—somethingI’veprovenoverandoverontheicelately.
Yearsofongoingsportstherapytohonemymindtohandlethepressureofmypositionanditallcrumbleswithoneswiftkicktothefoundation.Thosevine-likeintrusivethoughtscreepupandthreatentostrangleme.
Itriedtodotheexercisethat’salwaysworkedforme.FoursecondsisallIgivemyselftothinkdarkthoughts.Isoakinthembutonlyforfourseconds.AfterthatIswaptoenvisioningmyselfkickingass,playingmybest,andmakingahighlightreel-worthysave.AndthenIthinkaboutsomethingelseentirely.
Justfoursecondsoffearorsadnessordoubt.Foursecondsofinsanity.That’sallI’llallow.
Butnotanymore.RightnowI’msittingwiththosedarkthoughtslikethey’reanoldfriend.
Ipushtosit,padsofmyfingerssinkingintothetoo-softmattress.Thehousewasquietwhenwegothere.Everyonehidingawayintheirowncornerstodealwiththisintheirownway.
RhetthasSummer.
CadehasWilla.
ViolethasCole.
ItseemslikeeveryEatonhassomeonetoleanon.Exceptme.AndHarvey.WhichiswhyI’vestayedhereforsolong.Ican’tstomachthethoughtofleavinghimallaloneinthishouseafterhemadesurethatIwasn’tallaloneasateenager.
EveryoneI’vecaredaboutinlifehasleftinmeinsomewayoranother—it’spartofmypersonanow.Ican’tcontrolwholeaves,butIcancontroleverythingelsetoapointwheremyanxietydoesn’tcrippleme.
Butthis?ThisisravagingmeandIcan’tcontrolshit.
“Fuck!”Iroar,rightasIturnandsmashmyfistintothewallpapereddrywallbesideme.
Alow,sobsoundlurchesfrommylungsaspainlancesthroughmyknuckles.Ishakemyhandandinternallyberatemyself.HowfuckingoldamI?Punchingawalllikeanangrylittleteenager.
Mydoorfliesopen,andSloane’sslenderframeisasilhouetteintheopendoorway.“Jas?”Shesoundspanicked,alittlebreathless,likesheranhere.
“I’mfine.Thewallisn’tbutI’llpatchit.”
“Youhitthewall?”
Igroanandshakemyhandagain.“Gotobed,Sloane.”Idon’tfeelliketalking.AndI’mtiredofworrying.RightnowSloaneisjustonemorethingIworryabout.
NotonlybecausesheleftherfiancépracticallyatthealtarbutthatI’mdeeplysatisfiedshedid.Toosatisfied.ThelastthingSloaneneedsismecrossingthatline.
Shedoesn’tmakeiteasythough.BecausesheflatoutignoreswhatItellhertodoandpadsacrossmyroom,barefeetonsmoothhardwood.
Iwishshehadignoredotherassholeswhentheytoldherwhattodo.Marrysomeassholetocloseabusinessdeal.Leaveherjob—herpassion—toplanawedding.
It’sallsuchbullshit.
ThewildgirlIknewwould’vestuckhertongueoutatthemandcarriedonwithherlife.SoIcan’thelpbutbealittlesatisfiedshewalkstomyensuitebathroommutteringsomethingabout“dumbboys”beforereturningwithawarm,wetwashcloth.
Shecomesbacktostandrightbetweenmyknees,stillwearingmyjersey.
Mycockthickensatthesight.Thesilverymoonlighthighlightstheshimmeronthefabric,andmyeyessnagonthehemthatfallsmidthigh.
Myfingerstwitchlikethey’vegotamindoftheirown.Likethey’denjoyexploringthathemline.Hikeitupgentlyandseewhat’sbeneath.Erasingandruiningyearsoffriendshipastheygo.
Nonetheless,there’sthepartofmewhowantstoeraseeverywherethatWoodcockassholegottotouchher.Gottohaveher.
Hedoesn’tdeserveher.
“Handout,Gervais.”Hervoiceissoftandsoothing.Sleepyandresignedsomehow.Allittakesisoneglanceatthedigitalclockonmybedsidetabletoknowshejustfellasleep.
Ifshefellasleepatall.
Jealousyandguiltswirlinmygut.“I’mfine.Gobacktobed.”
Shecocksahip,makingmyjerseysliphigheronthatside.Reallynothelpingmywanderingeyes.Myhanddoesn’tevenhurtanymore.AllIcanthinkaboutisreachingbeneaththefabricandshapingthesoftcurveofherwaist.Tracingthelittledimpleoneithersideofherspinejustaboveherhips.
EverypartofSloaneistonedandstrong.Longandlean.She’slikeapieceofpalemarblethat’sbeensculptedtoperfectionforyears.
“Hand.Now.”
Iblink,leaningbackslightly.I’mtooworkedup,andneitherofusiswearingnearlyenoughclothingforthisinteraction.Buttheexpressiononherfacehedgesnoroomfordebate.Grindingmymolars,Iholdmyrighthanduptoherandhisswhenthewetclothpressesagainstmyknuckles.
“Idiot,”shemutters,dabbingcarefullyovereveryridgeofeachfingerandholdingmywristwithatendernessthatfeelsunfamiliarinsomanyways.
Because,whileIdohavesexwithwomen,Ikeepitveryprivate.Separatefromeveryotherpartofmylife.Workandfamilynevercrossover.Andit’snot…personal.I’veensuredthatit’snot.Becausegettingattachedhurts,andfindingsomeonetogetattachedtothatIcantrustatthispointinmycareerseemsdownrightimpossible.
“Wow.Verysoothing.Youshouldhavebecomeanurse.”
Iseeasliverofasmileonherlipsasacurtainofblondehairtumblesdownoverherface.“No,youshouldhave.Youwereterrificattendingtomyfeet.”
Herfeet.
Myeyestraildownherlegstothefloor,andIrememberthosedays.Theblisters.Theredness.Theswelling.
Ikeptcomingbacktohelpherevenwhenshedidn’taskmeto.EventhoughIwastoldnotto.InretrospectitwasoneofthosenightswhenIfirstsawSloaneasawoman,andnotthelittleblondegirlontheranch.Acousin.Afriend.
IthappenedwhileIrubbedhersorefeetandtrailedathumbupthearchofherfoot.Herheadfellbackagainstthepillowsonherplush,cream-coloredcouch,andtheexposedcolumnofherthroatcaughtthewarmglowofthefloorlampbehindherinawaythattransfixedme.Shadowsplayedacrosshercollarbones.Hercheeksturnedarosyshade.
Themoanthatspilledfromherlipshadmeshiftinguncomfortablyinmyjeans
AfterthatIstoppedrubbingherfeet.
Irealizedshewasn’talittlegirlatall.AndIwantedwhatIcouldn’thave.
Shewasstillyoung,though,andnewtolivingonherown.Sheneededafriend.Andbeforelong,shehadaboyfriend,andtheshiphadsailed.Withouragedifference,theclosefamilyrelation,herdad…thereweretoomanyties,toomanycomplications.
ToomuchfearthatImightloseher.
NotthatIwouldhavesubjectedhertomeanyway.Butnowandthen,I’dfindmyselfdreaming.OrherfacewouldpopintomymindwhileIshowered,whilemyhandwrappedaround—
“There.Nowliebackandletitdry.”
Herpalmlandsinthemiddleofmychestandpushesmebackintobed,herbarelegspressingagainsttheinsideofmykneesasshedoes.
SomanypeopleeyemelikeI’maRubik’scubetheycan’tsolve.Mycolorsarealljumbledandonthewrongsides,butSloanedoesn’tcarethatI’mmessy.She’sneverlookedatmelikeIneedfixing.Shealwayslookedlikeshedoesnow.Tenderandsupportive.
Whenhereyesdroptomybaretorso,tracingtheoutlinesofmydarktattoos,thecomfortofthemomentturnsintimate.Herexhaleisharshinthequietroombeforehereyessnagonmyboxersanddrifttowhereherbarelegspressagainsttheinsideofmine.Mygazelatchesontoherlips,watchingthempopopeninsurprise.Likeshewassobusytendingtomeshefailedtonoticeourmutualstateofundress.
Iclearmythroat,standingquicklyandgentlyguidingherbackawayfromme.Takingthedampragandtossingacrosstheroomintothehamper.“Thankyou.”Myvoicecomesoutallhoarseandstrained.Iwonderifshenotices,butIcan’tbringmyselftolookather.Instead,Ifocusonthesteadybeatofmyheart.Grapplingblindlyinthedarkeneddrawerofmydresser.
“Goodnight.”MyvoicecrackslikeI’mateenager,andIshakemyheadbeforeIpullonaT-shirtandsitonthebed,asifashirtandsimpleduvetwillprotectmefromwhateverthatmomentwaswejustshared.
Ithumpmysorefistintothepillow,makingashowofgettingitjustright.IthurtsbutIignorethepain.OrmaybeIrelishinit.
“Jas?”Hertoneissoftanduncertainasshestandsbywatchingme,andIhatethethoughtImighthavemadeherfeeluncomfortablewithmygruffresponse.
IhitthepillowharderbecauseIhatealotofthingsrightnow.
“Jas?Talktome.Tellmewhat’sinyourhead.”
Iturntoher,allmyrestraintsnappingundertheweightofthenight.“Myhead?Myhead,Sunny?Myheadisafuckingmess.IhatethatBeauismissingandmyfamilyishurting.IhatethatmyteamisstrugglingandI’vebeensidelined.Iespeciallyhatethatsomeonetookadvantageofyou,thathehurtyou.Belittledyou.Yelledatyou.You’reoneofthemostimportantpeopleinmylife,andhetreatedyoulikeshit.AndIreallyfuckinghatethat.”
Ihissthelastwordswithvenom.Oncethey’veclearedmylips,Ipant,breathlessoverthewordvomitIjusthurledallovermychildhoodbedroomatthegirlwhoalwayslistens.
Thegirlwho’salwaysthereforme.
ThegirlIalmostlost.
Ishouldbeabletoletthisgo,butherarrangedrelationshipwithSterlinghurtssointenselythatitachesdeepinmybones.AndI’mnotgoodatlettingthingsgo.Everycornerofmymindisheavywithregret.
“Jasper,whyareyousoangryaboutthis?”Shelooksconfused.“I’mfine.”
“I’mangrybecauseIwantyouhappyandsafe.Youweren’t.IpulledawaywhenIfoundoutyouwereengaged.”WhatIdon’tadmitoutloudisthatmyfeelingsweretoojumbledandcomplicatedtofaceinthewakeofthatannouncement.ItwindedmeinawayIneversawcoming.“Butyoustillneededmyhelp,andIwasn’tthereforyou.Youcamesodamnclosetobeingtrappedinalifethatwouldhavebeenmiserableforyou.”
ThislastweekhasputmeintoastatewhereI’mpracticallyfrothingatthemouthtoprotecther,torescueher—toensuresheneverendsupinthatpositionagain.AndI’mrealizingthatwhatI’mfeelingisawholelotmorethanabrotherlysenseofprotection.
It’senvy.It’spossession.
“Jasper.”Hereyesarelikesaucers,herhandsheldwideassheliftsthemanddropsthembackdowninanexhaustedshrug.Shestepscloser,eyesroamingmyface.“I’mhere,aren’tI?I’mhere.Withyou.”Herfingersslideovermyhandstillfistedonthepillow,andshelocksinonmyeyes.“It’sjustyouandme.Together.AndI’msafe.”
Iofferheratersenod.It’sallIcanmanagerightnow.Mylimbsareseizedup.Toomanyemotions.Herbodytooclose.
“Moveover.”
Myheadflicksinherdirection.“What?”
“Moveyourassover.”
“Why?”
Thosepaleblueirisesrollbackintoherheadwithsomuchattitude.Itremindsmeofherasateenager.“BecauseI’mnotleavingyoualonetonight.”
Mybodygoesrigid.“Why?”
“BecauseI’mconcernedforthesafetyofthewallsinthisroom.”Thevoicesheusesislight,buthereyesarejustabitpinched.
Sloane’snotworriedaboutthewalls.She’sworriedaboutme.It’swhysheusedtocomeoutontheroofwithmetoo.She’salwaysbeenalittleuncertainifIwouldtakeaturninthatdirection.
IfI’dhurtmyself.
Sure,I’vecontemplatedsuicide.Butmostlyinthewayeveryonehas.Whatitwouldtake.IfIcouldfollowthrough.InthewakeofJenny’sdeath,I’dtoedthatledge,buteversincetheEatonstookmein,itwasneveranoption.
Iknowhowitfeelstolosesomeoneyoulove,andIcouldn’tdothattothesepeoplewho’vebecomemyfamily.I’llsufferbeforeevermakingthemdothesame.
“Why?”Iask,wantingvalidationinamomentofweakness.Wantingtohearhersaysheworriesaboutmeorwantstocomfortme.It’sinsecureandIshouldn’tbehopingforsomethinglikethatfromawomanwhoserelationshipdissolvedmeredaysago.
Herrespondingsighistired.“You’reglitching,Gervais.Yousoundlikeascratchedrecord.Movethefuckover.”
Onecheektwitchesatthefactthatsheresortedtoswearingatme.There’ssomethingsatisfyingaboutproperlittleSloanehavingasailor’smouth.SoImoveover,notlettingmyselfthinktoohardaboutwhetherit’sagoodidea.We’rejustfriends.
Myeyesfluttershutatthesoundofthesheetrustling,thesmallmattressdippingunderherweight.
Justfriends.
Afewstrandsofherhairtangleinthestubbleonmycheekasshelaysdownfacingme,butIleavethemthere,optingtobreatheherininstead.
“Well,thisbedistiny.”
Ichuckle.“Itis.”Thebedusuallyfeelstoosmallformysix-foot-threeframe,nevermindaddinginanotherperson.
Thesilencestretchesoutjustalittletoolong.Alittletoofar.
“AmIbuggingyou?Doyouwantmetoleave?”
MyheartslamsagainstthecageIkeepitlockedin.HowcouldSloanebuganyone?Shehastobetheleastannoyingpersonintheworld.
“No,”IhuskasIreachdownandwrapmyhandaroundherdelicatewrist,asthoughpullingherbackfromeventhinkingaboutleaving.
“Okay,”shebreathes,soundingrelieved.
Wefallintosilenceagain,andIletmymindwandertohowtheselastfewdaysmustfeelforher.We’vebeensowrappedupinmylife—Beau,hockey,mepunchingwallslikearage-caseteenager—thatI’vefailedtogiveherthecomfortshemightneed.
“Areyousad,Sloane?”
Sheshifts,headturningtogazeupattheceiling,givingmeadarkenedviewofherprofile.Herhairslipsaway,andmyfingerstwitchonherwristwiththeinstincttorunthemthroughthesilkystrands,torubmycheekalongitlikeIdowhenwehug.
“Imean,ofcourse.IknowBeauisn’tmybestfriend,buthe’smycousin.Someofmybestmemoriesareoflong,swelteringsummerdaysspentoutherewithallofyou.I’m…devastated.”Hervoicebreaksalittle,andIwatchherlashesflutterrapidly.
She’scloseenoughthatIcouldreachoutandholdher.
ButIdon’t.
“Imeantabout—”Istopsuddenly.Hisnamedoesn’tbelonghereinthedarkwithus.“Thewedding.”
Shehumsthoughtfullyassherunstwofingersacrossherlipsbeforefirmlypressingonthem.Hercheeksgoround,andit’slikeshe’stryingtopushthesmilebackdown.“No.”
“Areyoutryingnottolaughaboutyourbigfancyweddinggoingtoshit?”Ichucklequietly,turningonmysidetofaceher.
Agrunt-snortnoiseescapesher,andshe’snowpressingherentirehandoverhermouth.“No!”
“Youhavealwayshadafucked-upsenseofhumor.”
Herbodyshakeswithlaughter,andshegivesmealookoffeignedoffense.“Ihavenot!”
“Youlaughatthemostinappropriatetimes.Youknowyoudo.”Ipointatherplayfully.“YoulaughedthattimeRhettfelloffthellamaandbrokehisarmasakid.”
Shelaughsharder.“Hedeservedtobelaughedat!Hehadnobusinessridingthatllama!Andthewayhelatchedontoitslongneckmadehimlookabig,dumbkoalaorsomething.”
She’swheezingnow,curlingintowardme,andIcan’thelpbutlaughwithher.Hereallydidlooklikeabig,dumbkoala.
“Anditwasn’tevenanimpressivefall!Hejustplunkeddowninthemostlacklusterway.I’veseenhimtakeworsespillsoffanangrybullandwalkawaytotallyfine.”
Thegiggleshitushardonthewalkdownmemorylane,andIwipehappytearsoutofmyeyesasIgazeupatthestuccoceiling.God,wehadfunaskidsouthere.Itfeelsgoodtoreminisce.Goodtolaugh.
Goodtolieherewithsomeonewhoknowsaboutsomeofthehappiestdaysofmylife.We’vebeeninarutofgamesandworkoutsthisweek.IthinkSloane’sbeendancingforfuninaspareroomatSummer’sgymandthentendingtoHarvey.We’reallhidingout.Hunkeringdown.Tryingtokeepthingsnormal—butfailing.
Shesighsdeeplyandcarrieson,“Anyway.No.I’mnotsadaboutthewedding.I’m…relieved.Isn’tthatawful?AllIfeelisintenserelief.AmIgoingtohellforadmittingthat?”
Mythumbbrushesovertheboneinherwrist.ThewayIfeelaboutherweddingcrumblingintonothingisintenserelieftoo.“Nah.Ifyou’regoingtohellforthat,thenI’lldefinitelybethereforallmyshittoo.”
Sheyawns,andherbodysoftensbesideme;shehastobesotired.“Hellmightbealrightifyouweretherewithme.”Shestiffens.“Ididn’tmean—”
Notwantinghertosecondguessanythingshesays,Icutheroff.“Hellmightactuallybealrightifwe’restucktheretogether,Sloane.”
Thesoundofherheadrustlingagainstthepillowtellsmeshe’snoddinginagreement.AndthenIgiveintothatlittlevoiceinmyhead.TheonethattellsmeIneedher.
Idrawherbodyagainstmine,myarmswrapherup,andourlegstangletogetherinstantly.
“Goodnight,Sunny,”isallIsayasIrevelinthecomfortingheatofher.
Abeatofsilencepassesandthenshesighs.“Goodnight,Jas.”10Jasper
Harvey:How’sthehand?
Jasper:Howdoyouknow?
Harvey:I’mold.Notdeaf.
Jasper:It’sfine.I’mfine.
Harvey:No,you’renot.Noneofusare.Butyouknowwhatwillmakeyoufeelbetter?
Jasper:What’sthat?
Harvey:Fixingmywall.There’sspacklingandaputtyknifeoutsideyourdoor.
Jasper:Sorry,Harv.I’llfixit.Promise.
Harvey:Allgood,son.HaveyouseenSloane?Herdoorwasopen,andherroomwasempty.;)
…“Iwaswondering…well,Iwasthinking…”Sloanepeeksupatmefromunderherlashes,handstwistinginfrontofher.She’sstunning.She’sgrownupsomuchsincelastsummerIalmostcan’tbelievemyeyes.
IcameouttotheranchforEasterdinnerandwasn’texpectinghertobehere.Westillmostlyonlyseeeachotherinthesummerbecause,livinginthecity,she’sbusywithdanceandhighschoolandI’mfullyimmersedinkeepingthisspotIhaveonthemainrosterwiththeGrizzlies.
Iwasabouttoleavewhensheranaftermetothedoor.
Idropmyvoice,restingmyhandsonhershouldertolookherintheeye.“Iseverythingokay,Sloane?You’remakingmenervous.Didsomethinghappen?Youknowyoucantellmeanything.”
“Oh!No!”Shelaughsshrilly,cheeksturningpinkasshepushesherlooseblondehairbehindherears.
Apitofdreadgrowsinmystomach.It’stheeyelashes.Theblushing.Thenervouswayshe’splayingwithherhair.AndthefactthatHarvey,Violet,andmybrothersareallbasicallywatchingfromthelivingroom.
I’mnotoblivioustothefactSloanehashadacrushonme.ButI’vepretendedIam.Becauseshitissomuchlessawkwardthatway.
“Okay.”Shesmilesupatmenervously,andnervesroilinmystomach.“I’mjustgoingtogoaheadandsayit.”Shetakesadeepbreath.“Willyougotopromwithme?”
Nowsheisn’ttheonlyoneblushing.Ifeellikemyentirefaceisonfire.“Oh,Sunny.”Myfingerspulseonhershoulders,andIgetlostinthetwinkleofhopeinhereyes.HurtingSloaneisenoughtomakemefeellikeImightbesick.
Idon’twanttodisappointher,butfuck…Ican’tdothiseither.“I’mnottheguyyouwanttogowith.I’m…”Isearchforagoodreasonthatisn’tjust,Idon’twanttoleadyouon.“I’mtwenty-four.Reallyinthemediarightnow.Withyoubeinginhighschool,I’mjustnotsureitwouldbeagoodlook,youknow?”
Itrysohardtoignorethathereyesinstantlyfill.Thetoo-fastwayshenodsherhead.“Oh.Yeah.”Shestepsbackfromme,myhandsfallingfromhershoulders,andsheglancesoveratthelivingroom.“Yeah.Ofcourse.Thatmakesperfectsense.”
“Stillfriends,right?”Ireachforward,tryingtogiveherforearmareassuringsqueeze.Shetugsherarmbackandforcesabrightsmileontoherface.
“Yeah.Ofcourse.Stillfriends.Always.”Withanotherfranticnod,sheturns,butshedoesn’theadbacktothefamilygathering.Shedisappearsdownthehallwaythatleadstotheupstairsbedrooms.
IfeellikeshitasIwavegoodbyetoaroomfullofwide-eyed,awkward-as-fuckfamilymembers.Idon’tknowwhattosaytothem.Ihalfexpectsomeonetocrackajoke,butnoonesaysawordasIfleethehouse,andallthatdoesisdrivehomehowbrutalthatinteractionwaswithSloane.
Becauseevenifthereisalittlepartofmethatthinksitwouldbekindofcutetogowithher,IknowIcan’t.
Sheneedstogohavefunatherprom.Makememories—withsomeoneherownage.Sheneedstohavetheverybestnight,andI’mcertainIcan’tbetheonetogiveherthat.
SloaneWinthrophasgrownintoawomanwhoissmart,beautiful,andsodamntalented.Shehasanentirelifeaheadofherwithsomeshiny,richboyfriendshe’llfallheadoverheelsforwhileshepursuesherhighereducationatsomefancy,privateuniversity.
Shedoesn’tneedthelikesofmeholdingherbackanymore.
I’vealmostconvincedmyselfIdidtherightthingbythetimeIgettomytruck.ButwhenIpullawaydownthedriveway,regretnigglesatme.Iglanceupintotherearviewmirror,andSloaneisthere.
Sittingonthatroofallbyherself.
ProbablyrealizingwhatIalreadyknow.
ThatI’mnotgoodenoughforher.Neverhavebeen.Neverwillbe…
IwakeupwithSloane’sforeheadpressedintothecenterofmychest.Herhandsarerolledintoloosefistsandclutchedunderherchinlikeshe’stryingtokeepherselffromtouchingmeinhersleep.
Idon’tsufferfromthesamehesitance.I’vegotmyarmslungcasuallyoverherpetiteframeandonelegdrapedpossessivelyoverbothofhers.
Itbordersontoofar.Yes,we’refriends.Butwe’realsoamanandawoman.Aloneandbarelydressedonabedthat’stoosmall.
Andshe’sstillwearingmyjersey.
Friend.Friend.Friend.
Islamthewordintomybrainrepeatedlylikeitmightcementitsomehow.Iimagineitforfourseconds,theletterscroppinguplikethey’rebeingtypedbesideacursor.Likeitmightkeepmefromwondering,“Whatifweweren’tjustfriends?Whatifweweremore?”
Sure,Ishutthingsdownbetweenuswhenshewaspracticallystillakid.Andevennotsolongago,shemadeanoffhandedjokethathitalittletooclosetohomeasIhelpedmountherTVonthewall.
IlaughedeventhoughIdidn’tfinditfunnyatall.Itoldheritwouldneverhappen.Again.Becausehowcouldit?
Butsheplantedaseedthatday.Onethat’sgrownintoaquestionI’mtooscaredtoask.
NowI’mlyingherewondering…whythefuckcan’tithappen?TherewasatimeIwasconvincedIcouldn’tbetheguytogiveherwhatsheneeds,tomakeherhappy.
Shewantedme,andIfuckeditup—likeIalwaysdo.
Butthatwasthen.Andthisisnow.I’mnotthesamescaredkidIwasbackthen.
ThewordfriendfadesthelongerIstareather—theslightlyupturnedtipofhernosethatwigglesalittlewhenshetalks.Herhigh,noblecheekbonesthatgosoperfectlyroundwhenshelaughs.Herlashesthatarewashedcleanofmascaraandtakeonmoreofapalebrowncolorwherethey’refanneddownoverhersmoothskin.
Herengagementring,theoneshe’sstillwearing,shinesblindinglybeneathherchin.Andit’sthedoseofrealityIneed.
ProofthatI’mtoolate.ThatnomatterhowhardIworkonmyreactiontimebetweenthepipes,mypersonallifehasalwaysbeenonebigmiss.Ifreezeup.AndwhileIgetstuckinmyhead,theworldkeepsturning.
BecauseasIsitaroundwonderingifwecouldeverbemore,nursingallmycomplicatedemotions,therealityisshealmostwalkeddowntheaislewithanotherman.Anyfeelingssheoncehadformemustbelonggone.
Truthbetold,Ican’treallytellwhatshe’sfeelingrightnow.Shecansayshe’snotsad,butI’mfamiliarwithhowgriefworks.Iknowitcomesinwaves.Iknowyoucanfeelfineaboutsomethingonedayanditcanfuckingcrippleyouthenext.
Theangeralwayscomes.
AndIknowthatwhatsheneedsrightnowisJasper,herfriend.NotJasperwho’sbeentoobigofacowardtocrossthatlineeventhoughhe’sbeenthinkingaboutitforyears.
Icarefullyremovemylimbsfromhersleepingform,pushingawaytheswellofregretthathitsmewhenIreleaseher.Iforcemyeyestotheground,watchingmytoesagainstthehardwoodfloorasIreachforwhateverclothesIcanfind.
AndthenIleavetheroom,tooweaktokeepmyselffromlookingbackathersleepingformonelasttime.Shelookssmallandfrail—toothin.ShelooksexhaustedandIhopeshesleeps.Ihopesheeats.
Thedoorshutsquietlybehindme,andItakelongstridesdowntothekitchen,notsurewhatI’llbewalkingintowhenIgetthere.
I’llbethefirsttoadmitthatIdon’thandleemotionalsituationswell.Trauma?I’vegotenough,thanks.Feelings?Toomanyofthosetoo.
Iroundthecornerintothebigfarmhousekitchenconsistingofwide,wornfloorplanks,darkwoodcabinetry,andhunter-greenwalls.Theentirehouseisoutdatedandyet…not.It’slikeitwastransportedstraightoffthesetofYellowstone.
Completewithtwocountryboyssittingatthetableoveracupofcoffee.
“Didyougetdressedinthedark?”Cadesnipesatme.
Harveybarksoutalaugh,andIglancedownatmyself,realizingIgrabbedaneonpinkshirtwithayellowenergydrinklogoonit,blackandwhitestripesonthearms.Ittrulyisatrocious,butitwasdarklastnight.Ithinkitwaspromotional.I’mpositiveI’veneverwornitbefore.AnditreallydoesclashwiththepairofarmygreenjoggersI’mwearing.
Mylipsquirk.“Listen,thedayItakefashionadvicefromsomeoneasoldasyou,whobarelyleavesthisranch,isthedayIdie.”
IseeCade’scheektwitch.Pickingoneachotherisourcomfortzone.Anddamn,itfeelsgood.Thedayshaveslowlybledintoadepressednormalcy.We’vehadoneawkwardfamilydinner.Harveydidn’tmakeanyblowjobjokes,andBeauwasn’ttheretolightenthemood.Itfeelslikeeveryoneisjustgoingthroughthemotions.Waitingtohearsomethingistheworst.
Igostraightforthecoffeemaker,pourmyselfamug,andtakeaseatatthetablewiththetwoothermen.
“Ithinkyou’rejustsousedtoeveryonefawningoveryouthatyoudon’tknowwhenyoulooklikeafuckingclownanymore.”
“Adorablecomingfromtheguywhowearshisjeansatleasttwosizestoosmall.”IgiveCadeabig,cheesygrin,lovingthefeelofsomethingthatisn’tjustsad.
“Willalikesthemtight.”
Iquirkabrow.“Howlongdoesittakehertopeelthemoffofyou?Mymoneyisonatleastfiveminutes.”
“Bringyourtimer.Youcanwatchnexttime,couldprobablyteachyourdumbassathingortwo.”
Harvey’sheadwhipsbetweenus,anamusedsmileonhislips.
“I’llbesuretogiveyousomenoticesoyoucangetyourViagradownintime,oldboy.”
“Oh,nah.”Harveywavesahanddismissively.“TheEatonsareavirilebunch.EvenIdon’tneedthose.”
“JesusChrist.”Cade’sheaddrops,andhiseyesstareintohiscoffeecuplikehe’sscryingforanswersonhowtomakehisdadstopsayinginappropriatethings.
IsnortbecauseIknowthatdaywillnevercome.Andit’sasignoflifethatI’lltake.Harvey’ssenseofhumorisoneofmyfavoritethingsabouthim—alwayshasbeen.
AndquietasI’vebeenthroughtheyears,Inevercanquiteresisttoeingthatlinewithhim.Pushinghimasmidgefarthertoseewhathe’llsay.
“Yougotsomeonespecialonthereceivingendofallthatvirility,Harv?”
“Afewsomeones.Hardtopickjustone,yaknow?Whychoose?”Hesmilesbackatmemaniacally.
“Makesureyouwrapitup,”ismycasualresponse.Afterthedeathofhiswifesolongago,I’mhappyhehassomecompany.
Harveygrins.“TalktoCadeaboutthat.Notme.”
Cadegroansandtipshisheadback,nowstaringattheceiling.“Ishouldhavestayedatmyhouse.”
Inod,takingalongpullofthecoffeeinmyhand.“Probably.It’searly.Wasn’texpectingtofindyouhere.”
“Well,HarveyandIwereabouttodorock,paper,scissorstoseewhowouldtakearoadtripouttoseeVioletinRubyCreekwithaloadofhay.”
Myheadquirks.“Sorry?”
Harveyjumpsin.“Somethingaboutahayshortageoutthatway.Hot,drysummer.Soshecalledus,beggingforatrailerfulltohelpthemgetthroughthewinter.Shestillcomplainsthatthehayouttheresuckscomparedtoours.”Theoldermanpuffsupalittleatthatcomplimentfromhisonlydaughter.
Cadehitsmewithaseriouslook.“Butneitherofusreallywantstoleave.”Heclearshisthroat.“Justincase.”
Harveynods,eyesshrink-wrappedinstantly.
Justincase.Iknowwhatthey’resayingwithouthavingtoaskformore.JustincaseBeauisfound.JustincaseBeauisgone.Justincasetheyneedtoleanontheirfamilywhennewsabouttheirbelovedbrothercomesin.
“I’llgo.”Idon’tevenneedtothinktwiceaboutit.
Boththeirheadswhipinmydirection,surprisewrittenallovertheirfaces.
Harveysmilesatmekindly,thewayhehassincehetookmein,evenwhenhealreadyhadtoomuchonhisplate.I’venevermetamanwithabiggerheartthanwhat’sinHarveyEaton’schest.“You’reagoodboy,Jasper.Butyou’vegotyourseason.Youcan’tleave,thoughitmeanstheworldtomeyou’doffer.”
“Yeah,aboutthat…I’mactuallyonleavenow.Foratleasttwoweeks.”
Harvey’sthickbrowsscrunchonhisforehead.“Why?”
“Didyounotseehisgamesthisweek?”Cadetossesin.
Iglareinhisdirection.Hejustsmirks.
“Fuckingdick,”ImutterwithnomaliceasIturnbacktoHarvey.“BecauseRomanisadomineeringassholewhofoundoutIdidn’tdisclosewhatwasgoingontomanagementorcoachingstaffandthenIshitthebedontheiceandlostusabunchofgames.AndIguessratherthanyellingatmefromthebenchlikehealwaysdoes,he’sdecidedtobeinspiringorsomeshitandcoddlemelikeasadtoddler.”
I’mmetwithsilenceandslightlyconcernedlooksbecauseIdon’toftengetthatmanywordsoutinonebreath.Infact,Idon’tusuallygetmanywordsout,period.Iretreatedintomyselfalongtimeagoandgotreallygoodatlisteningratherthantalking.
“Well…that’squitethestory,”Harveyprovides,likehedoesn’tquiteknowwhattosay.
“Youdoremindmeabitofasadtoddler,”Cadedeadpans.
Dick.
“I’llgo.Youguysstay.”Igesturebetweenthem.“Youneedtobehere.Cade,you’vegotWillaandLuke—ababyontheway.Harvey,you’vegotseveralgirl-friendsandalsoyourentirefamily.”
TheybothchuckleandImusterasmallgrin,happytolightenthemood.
“You’reourfamilytoo,youknow?”Cadeisallseriousnow.It’ssometimeshardtodifferentiatewithhimbecausehe’sgotsuchadrysenseofhumor,butthisishimbeingsensitiveinhisownway.
“Iknow.Butthere’snooneherewhoneedsme.Letmego.Icansupportthefamilybymakingthistrip.Youbothtaughtmehowtohaul,youknowI’mcapablewiththetruckandtrailer.Plus,it’dbegoodtoseeViolet.Shecouldusesomedistractingaswell.”
Harvey’sfingersdrumonthetable.“Theroadscouldbebadthroughthemountainsthistimeofyear.”
Heknowsmyanxietyaboutdriving,vehicles,andaccidents.It’swildhowonesimplemistakecantranslateintosuchwidespreadanxiety.Butforhim?Formyfamily?
Icanswallowitdownandoverlookit.
Mysmileistense.“Iknow.Icanmanagethough.”
“Yeah.”Wealljerk,surprisedbythesoftvoicecomingfromthecornerofthekitchen.Likehavingwomeninthehouseisjustthatunusualthesedays.“Hecanmanage.AndI’llgowithhimtomakesurehehascompany.”
Withoutevenglancingatus,Sloanepoursherselfacoffee.She’schangedintoasimplepairofblackleggingspairedwithagraysweatshirtthatswallowsherupperbody,woolensocksstackedoverherankles.
Andwhensheturnstosmileatus,herpaleblondelocksalittlemussed,Icanseethelinesonhercheekfromwhereherfacewaspressedintothesheetsofmybed.Shelookscozy—ataddopey.Itmakesmethinkofhowshefeltpressedupagainstmelastnight.
ShelooksdifferentthanI’veeverseenher.Ormaybeit’sjustthewayI’mseeinghernow.
“Goodlord,Gervais.Whatthehellareyouwearing?”sheblurts.
Everyoneelsedissolvesintoafitofgiggles.Cademurmurssomethingabouthetoldmeso,butIbarelyhearhim.
I’mfocusedonSloane.BecauseIwillnottellherwhatshecanandcan’tdo.SoI’mleftwonderinghowI’mgoingtohandlearoadtripthroughthemountainswithjustthetwoofusandnotgocompletelyinsane.
Ordosomethingcompletelyinsane.11Sloane
Willa:Sloane,canyouconfirmJasperisokay?Theguysareworriedabouthimbutdon’tknowhowtotalktohimabouttheirfeelings.They’verequestedweaskinstead.It’slikeagameoftelephoneoverhere.
Summer:We’realltexting.It’snothinglikeagameoftelephone.
Sloane:He’ssad.He’llbeokay.
Willa:Youshouldbanghim.
Summer:Wils,thatcan’talwaysbeyouradvice.
Willa:Whynot?It’ssolidadvice.Workedoutforyou.
Summer:Shejustfledherwedding.
Willa:Yeah,butthatfuckingguysucked.Jasperhasthathot,torturedvibegoingforhim.
Sloane:He’ssad.Nothorny,Willa.
Willa:Hecanbeboth.Turnthatfrownupsidedown,babygirl!
“Okay,IgoteverythingIneed.”Ishouldermywayintothetruckwithabrand-newduffelbagfullofbrand-newclothesandtoiletries.HarveytookmeintotownthismorningtofillinthegapsinmytemporarywardrobewhileCadeandJaspergotthetruckandtrailerset.
Jaspereyesmespeculatively.Hereallyhasn’tsaidmuchtome.Idon’tknowifIscaredhimoffwithmycommentabouthowhellwouldbeajollygoodtimewithhimthere—talkaboutcringe—orifhejustdoesn’twantmetocomewithhim.
Maybeforcingmywayintohisbedwastoofar.
Maybehe’sfiguringoutthatIneverreallygotoverhim.
It’shardtotellwhenhedoesn’ttalk.ButI’musedtothat.He’salwaysbeenquiet,andI’vealwaysjustdonewhatIwanted.Talkedtohim.Athim?PracticedmychoreographywhenIranoutofthingstosay.
Andhe’salwaysjustwatched.Andlistened.
SoIguessthewayhe’sstaringatmerightnowisn’tneweither,butithasthehaironmyarmsstandingonendallthesame.
Itossthebaginthebackseat,mybodyrumblingalongwiththeloudtruck.Theduallyismassive,runsloud,andhasthepowertopulltheflatbedthatisnowloadedwithhugeroundbalesofhay.
MypalmsslapagainstmythighsasIstareoutthewindshieldatthepostsflankingtheendofthedriveway,theonesjoinedbyanarchwaythathasawroughtironWishingWellRanchsignhangingfromit.“Okay.Let’sgetthisshowontheroad.”I’mreadyforsomefreshscenery.IfeellikeI’vebeenwalkingoneggshellsallweekhereinChestnutSprings.
Jasperdoesn’tputthetruckindrive.“Yousure?”
“Thatweshouldgo?”MynosescrunchesasIglanceoverathim,sointentonme.
“No.Thatyoushouldcomewithme.”
HeatflaresonmycheekslikeI’magoddamnteenager.Ialmostgiggleattheturnmythoughtstake.I’dpaygoodmoneytocomewithJasperGervais.
“Yes.Stopasking,Gervais.You’restuckwithme.”
IchanceaglanceoveratJasper’shandsomeface.Hisstubblealittlelongerthanusual,hishairstilldampandcombedback.Hisjawstilljustasstupidlysquareasit’salwaysbeen.
Hequirksadarkbrowatme.“Always.”
Ihuffoutasmallbreathanddrophisgazeagain,tryingtofigureoutwhat’schangedbetweenusintheselastseveraldays.DiditallstartthatnightatdinnerwhenhemetSterlingforthefirsttime?Orwasitwhenhechargedintothatroominthechurch,lookinglikeafuckingsuperheroinaperfectlytailoredsuit?Wasitwhenwesatontheroof?
AllIknowisthatsomethingisdifferent.
“Ican’thelpbutpointoutthatyougoingonthisroadtripwithmeseemsanawfullotlikeyourunningawayfromyourlife.”
“Mymomsaidshe’dgetaway,andhonestly,nothinghaseversoundedmoreappealing.”Jasperisjustthecherryontop—butIdon’tvoicethatthought.EvenIhaveboundarieswhenitcomestobleedingallovertheplaceaboutthisunrequitedcrush.
Hegivesmeadrolllook,onethatsays,You’refullofshit,beforeIadd,“Ohyeah?Andwhatisitthatyou’redoing,Jasper?”
HisAdam’sapplebobsjustabovethenecklineofhissoftbrownfleeceasheswallows.“Helpingmyfamily.”
Iguesswebothhaveastorythatwe’restickingto.
“Yougonnatrytotellmeyoudon’tretreatorisolateyourselfwhenbadshithappens?It’slikeyouforgetI’veknownyouforalmosttwodecades.”
AmuscleinJasper’sjawflexeswithasubtleshakeofhishead.Hereachesforwardandshiftsthetruckintodrive.“It’simpossibletoforgethowlongI’veknownyou,Sunny,”isallhesaysaswepullawaythroughthegate.
AndIspendanabsurdamountoftimeturningthatsentenceoverinmyhead,wonderingjustwhatthehellhemeans.Impossibletoforget.
“Doyouthinkaboutme?”Iblurt,watchinghimstilltheminutethosewordsleapfrommylips.“Whenwegoweeksormonthswithouttalkingorseeingeachother…doyouthinkaboutme?”
“Why?”Hisvoiceiscoolandeven,givingnothingaway.
Itwistatmyringnervouslyandsigh.“Idon’tknow.Here.Withyou.”Igesturebetweenus.“Ikeepforgettingabouteverythingelseinmylife.Everyoneelse.Butwhenwe’reapartIconstantlycomebacktoy—youknowwhat?Nevermind.Justignoreme.”
Thesilencethatstretchesbetweenusisthick,aliveandsparkingwiththeheatandrealityofmyalmost-confession.
Aheatthatsuffusesmyentirebodywhenhefinallyrespondswith,“Everyfuckingday,Sunny.”
“WanttoplayISpy?”Iaskafterwhathasgottobeatleastanhourofsilence.
IcanseeJasperretreatingintohimself.Hisshoulderscurl,hisknucklesturnwhite.IswearIcanseeintohisbrain.
Andwhat’sinthereisamanwhoisspinning.
Itmakesmewanttocrawlintohislapandshakehim,tobringhimbackfromwhateverledgehe’stoeing.
TheonlywayIknowhowtodothatistoentertainandengagehim.Makehimlaugh.Hehasthebestlaugh,alldeepandsoft,alittlebreathylikehe’stryingtotampitdownandhideitaway.
WhenJasperlaughs,helooksbashful.Hiseyesdropandhisstraightteethflash.Iguessafterwatchinghimsocloselyforsolong,I’vecataloguedhiseveryreaction.Thelittletics.
It’spatheticifIthinktoohardaboutit.
“ISpy?”Hisbrowliftsandheglancesmyway.
IreachforwardandturndowntheNirvanaalbumthathasbeenthesoundtracktothefirststretchofourtrip.“Yes.It’sagamewhere—”
Hechuckles.“Sloane,IknowwhatISpyis.”
“Wellthen,keepup.Don’tactsoconfused.You’retoooldtoplaydumb.It’snotcute.”
Amusementtoucheseveryfeature,andIbreatheoutasighofrelief.Thereheis.
“Okay.I’llgofirst.Ispywithmylittleeyesomethingthatis…brown.”
Heglancesdownquicklyathimself.“Mycoat.”
“No.”
“Thetreesoutside.”
“No.”
“The…really?Brown?”
Ishrug.“Yeah.Brown.What’swrongwithbrown?”
Hiseyesroll,andhepeersaroundlikehe’stryingreallyhardtofigureitout.“Thegrass?”
Iscoff.“Thegrassisn’tbrown.It’smorelikeyellow.”
Oneofhishandsfliesupinfrustration.Hisfuseisshortrightnow.Heneedsalaugh.“Idon’tknow,Sloane.Thereisn’tmuchthat’sbrowninthistruckoroutthere.Whatisit?”
“Itwasabullinafieldthatwealreadypassed.”Itwasthedarkerstreaksinhishair.That’showitpoppedupinmyhead.
Iwaslyingtohim.
Hebarksoutalaughthough,andthelieisimmediatelyworththedeception.“Youcan’tpickthingsthatwe’vealreadypassed!”
Igrin,toeingoffmyslip-onVansandcrossingmylegsontheseat.“Keepuportapout,Gervais.Thisisn’tbabyISpy.Thisisthebigkids’version.”
Withalightshakeofhishead,heglancesoveratme.“Okay.Fine.”Hischindips,andthenhiseyesarebackontheroad.Theydon’tshift.Theystayfastenedtotheblacktopthatstretchesaheadofus.“Ispywithmylittleeyesomethingthatisblue.”
Mylipsrolltogether.“Okay.Blue.Thesky?”
“Ithoughtthiswasn’tthebabyversionofISpy?”
Ihuffoutaquietlaugh.“Alright.ThebluesnowflakeontheA/Cbutton?”
“No.”
“Thebluestripeonthetemperaturecontrol?”
“No.”
Myheadwhipsaroundasabluecarstreaksby.“Thatbluesedan!”
Thecornersofhismouthtugup.“No.”
“Ugh.CanweplaybabyISpy,actually?”
Hegivesmeasidelongglance.“No.”
Myeyesroll,andIturntocheckthebackseat.“Mynavybag?”
“It’smoreofaskyblue.”
“Okay,well,Ialreadyguessedthesky.”
“Youdid.”Henods.
Ipeeraroundthevehicle,wrackingmybrain.Ishouldhaveknownhe’dtrickmeafterwhatIjustpulledonhim.“Didwepassabluehouseorabluebarnorsomething?”
“No.It’sinthecar.Andit’soneofmyfavoritethings.”
“You’refullofshit,Gervais.”Iflopback,crossingmyarms,tryingnottopoutbutfailing.
Hiseyesmeetmineagainandstarejustabeattoolong.“No.I’mnot.”
Thistimeit’smyhandsthatflyup,rightaswarmthbloomsonmycheeks.“Okay.IguessI’llkeepthingsfairandgiveup.Idon’tknow.”
Thistimewhenhetalks,hedoesn’tlookatme.Hestaresatthesmoothroadlikethere’ssomethingremarkablyinterestingthere.Heswallows,andIwatchthecolumnofhisthroatworkbeneaththestubble.“It’syoureyes.”
Igovery,verystill.“Myeyes?”Irepeatstupidly.Iheardhimclearly.Ijustdidn’texpectthattobehisanswer.Notevenclose.
Heshrugslikeit’snothing.“Yeah.Arobin’seggismoreaccurate.Rememberwhenwewerewalkingtotheriverthatonetimeandtheshellfelloutofthetreeinfrontofus?Youweresoexcitedabouttherebeingbabybirds,andIrememberpickingitupandlookingatyou,thinkingthatitmatchedalmostperfectly.”Hechuckleswhenhefinisheshissentence,likeit’sjustafriendlywalkdownmemorylane.Butinside,I’mtheonewho’sspinningnow.
Iclearmythroatandsuppresstheswirlingfeelings.“Yeah.VioletandIcheckedonthoserobinseveryday.Ifweclimbedtheoppositetree,wecouldseeintothenest.”
Hesmirks.“Youtwowerealwaysclimbingtrees.”
Ismileanddropmychintomychest.“Yeah.Wewerealwaystryingtospyonyouguys.Oreavesdrop.Once,wesawallofyouskinnydippingintheriver.Violetwantedtostopafterthatbecauseshesaidshe’dneverrecover.”Ihadn’tfeltthesame,butthen,Ihadn’tbeenlookingatmycousins.
Myeyeswerestuckonanineteen-year-oldJasper,whowashomeforthesummerfromplayingjuniorhockey.Anineteen-year-oldJasperwholookedlikehespentallhisfreetimeworkingout.
Thesamemanbarksoutalaughbesideme.“Ithinksherecovered.”
“Yeah,”Iwhisper.“Ithinkshedid.”
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’tgetthatone.”He’steasingme,oblivioustotheeffecthehasonme—butthat’snothingnew.
Thatwouldneverhappen.
Iscoffandreachacrosstopokehimintheribs,smilingwhenheflinches.“HowamIsupposedtolookatmyowneyes?”
“Mostpeopleuseamirror.”
Ipokehimagainandhesnorts.
“Usethemirror,Sunny.Whatcolordoyouthinktheyare?Tellmethatisn’trobin’s-eggblue.”
Pushedtowardthecenterconsole,Ipeerintotherearviewmirror.They’reblue.Butsoarethecirclesundermyeyes.Theveinthatnoconcealercaneverreallycover.SoisthewayIfeelinsiderightnowifIreallyreachdownanddigmyfingersintothatstoneatthebottomofmygut.“They’rejustblue,Jas.”Iflopback.“AndIlooktired.”
“They’renotjustblue.”Hesaysitlikeit’sfactandnothisopinion.
Mystomachflips.
AndthenIdeflect,notwantingtolingerinthesememoriesforlongerthannecessary.NotwantingtofacealltheshitI’veoptedtorunawayfrom.Notyet.Ilaunchbackin.“Ispywithmylittleeye…”
Weplayseveralmorerounds.
Butweplaythebabyversion,andneitheroneofuscallstheotheronit.12Jasper
Jasper:Anynews?
Harvey:Nothing.IfIhearanything,you’llbemyfirstcall.
Jasper:Okay.
“Ithinkweshouldstopfortheday.”
Wehaven’tbeenontheroadforlong,butIfeelthetugofsleepatthecenterofmyforeheadlikeaweightthatwantstopushmyeyesshut.It’sonlygottenworsesincetheworld’smostawkwardgameofISpyfizzledoutandleftussittinginsilence.
AllIcanhearisthehumoftiresagainsttheroad.It’sawhitenoisemachineatthispoint.
Robin’s-eggblue.WhatwasIthinking?It’sjustsoeasy,soreassuring,tofallbackintothosememories.SometimesIwishwecouldgoback.Itwassimplethen.Iwasn’trecognizedeverywhereIgo.Beauwasn’tmissing.Shewasn’trunningfromherlife.
Butme?I’vealwaysbeenrunningfrommine,tryingtoescapeattention.
“Okay.”Sloanelooksatmealittletooclosely,andIraiseonehandtobendthebrimofmyhat,likeitmightpreventherfromseeingme.Becauseit’salwaysfeltlikeshelooksatmeinawayIcan’thidefrom,likesheseesalittletoomuch.“Youalright?Wantmetofindagoodplacetostop?”
“Yeah.I’mjust…honestly,Sloane,I’mjustreallyfuckingtired.IwasallgunghotoleaveandnowthatIhave,I’mexhausted.”
“Icoulddriveforabit?”Shesaysitlightly,butwebothknowsheknowstheanswer.She’stheonlyonewhoknowsthatwholestory,everydirtydetail.Everyoneelsehasbitsandpieces,butwithSloane,Ilaiditallout.Shewastooyoungtoreallyunderstand,whichIthinkmeantshewastooyoungtojudgeme
Isometimeswonderifshejudgesmenow.
Ikeepmyeyespeeledontherockyrisesofthesurroundingmountains,sotallandominousyoucanseethemfromthecity.We’rewellintheirmidstnow,travelingthroughtherollingyellowedfoothillsandintothejuttingpeakscappedwithpristinesnow.“No.Notwiththeloadwe’rehauling.Youdon’thaveanyexperiencewiththat.”
Hereyesnarrow,andIfeelitmorethanseeit.“Andyoudo?”
Oneofmyshoulderspopsup.“Notrecently.Butyeah,I’vehauledplentyofloadsofhayinthesummerwhenIwasyounger.Youdon’tliveatWishingWellRanchandnotbecomeafull-blowncountry-boy.”
Shedoesn’trespond,insteadshepullsherphoneout,thumbsflyingacrossit.Iseeacallcomeinandthescreenflashes.Sterling.Shequicklydeclinesitandkeepssearching.
“Youevergonnatalktohim?”
“ThereisatowncalledRoseHillcomingupthathasahotelbyalake.Lookspretty.”
Inod.“Iknowit.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.Wehadadrylandtrainingcampthereonce.Beautifulspot.Howfardoesitsay?”
“Thirtyminutes.TurnoffatJunction91.”
“Okay.Ijustneedyoutokeeptalkingtome.”
Shestraightensinherseat.“Okay.Whatdoyouwanttotalkabout?Shouldwetrashtalkyourcoachforforcingyouonleave?”
Igrumbleoutalaugh.“No.Ialreadyaskedyouaquestion.”
Herheadswivelsawayfrommetoglanceoutthewindow,andshetapsonethoughtfulfingeronthetipofhernose.“Iforgetwhatitwas.”
Mylipsflatten,andmypalmstightenonthesteeringwheel.She’slying,butthat’sokay.Webothhavesecretswekeep.“Iaskedifyouwereevergoingtotalktohim.”
“Who?”Wideturquoiseeyesturninmydirection,andIgiveheradrolllook.
“Youtappingyournosetokeepitfromgrowing,Pinocchio?”
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutitwithyou.”Iignoretheacheinmychest,realizinghowwe’vegrownapartthispastyearwithSterlingonthescene.Whopulledawayfirst?Whendidithappen?CouldshetellIwaslookingatherdifferently?
“Well,there’snooneelsehere,andIknowthewayyourheadworks.Youtalkthingsout.AndI’mgoodatlistening.Sospill.”
Herrespondinglaughissoftandquiet.Iknowshemustbethinkingofthewayshe’dtalkatmeasachildwhileIsataroundandbrooded.
Hilariously,themorethingschange,themoretheystaythesame.
“Idon’tknowifhedeservesmywordsreally,”ishowshestarts,andIswearitsucksalltheairoutofthecab.“ThemoreIthinkaboutit,theangrierIam—atmyselfmorethananyone.Iwentalongwithitandlethimtalktomethewayhedid,belittlemethewayhedid.AndIjustneverreallycared.Iwasgoingthroughthemotions,Ithink.Focusingontheballetcompany.Focusingonmyparents.Focusingoneveryoneotherthanme,andnowIlookatmyselfandI…Idon’tlikewhatIsee.Idon’tlikethechoicesI’vemade.AndIthinkignoringhim—pettyasitmightbe—isachoiceIactuallylikerightnow.Idon’tevenknowwhatIhavetosaytohim,youknow?I’mclingingtowhatlittlesanityIhave,andIdon’twanttoshareitwithhim.Hecan’thaveit.”
Inodandtwistmyhandsonthewheel,resistingtheurgetoreachoutandtouchher,totellherhowproudIamofher.Totellhershecouldbemineinstead.BecauseItoldherI’dlisten,andshedoesn’tneedmecomplicatingheralreadycomplicatedfeelings.Andshedefinitelydoesn’tneedmystampofapprovalonthem.
That’snothowfeelingswork—theyjustare,nomatterwhatanyoneelsethinksofthem.
I’vebeentoldrepeatedlyI’mnotresponsibleforwhathappenedonthathighway,butitdoesn’tchangethewayIfeel.
Ifeelresponsible.
“Ifeelsickovermydad.”Icytendrilsslidedownmyspine.AsfarasI’mconcerned,herdadisacolossalpieceofshit,butI’mnotgoingtobetheonetotellher.I’mnotsureshe’deverforgivemeifIdid.“ButI’msoangryathimtoo.Themessageshe’sleftme…”Hertopteethclampdownhardonherpillowybottomliplikehurtingherselfwillmakethepainofherfather’sbetrayalstinglesssomehow.
“He’sbeingarealpieceofshit.Youknowthat?”Hervoiceisharshernow,itclasheswiththesoftfemininityofher.It’safascinatingdichotomy.“LikeIcouldjust…Idon’tknow,throwatantrumandstomponhisfootorsomethingequallychildish.I’msodisappointed.”
“Whatdidhesaytoyou?”Iasktersely,alreadywishingIhadn’t,alreadyknowingitwillmakemehatethemanmorethanIalreadydo.Knowingitwillpullthescaboffanoldwound.
“HeincludedSterlinginthetextandtoldmetodomywifelydutyandcomehomeimmediately.”ShesnortsandIsilentlyrage.Hisfacepopsupinmymind,andIimaginedrivingmyblockerintoit.“IrespondedwiththeonlythingI’vesaiddirectlytoeitherofthemsinceyoubrokemeoutofthatchurch.”
Iarchabrow,hopingshe’llshareherresponse.
“ItoldhimI’mnoone’swifeandIdon’toweeitherofthemshit.”Astrangledlaughburstsfrommylips,andshesmilesatme,lookingmightysatisfiedwithherself.“TheycanbothmullthatoverwhileIcontinuetoignorethem.”
No,Sloanedoesn’tneedmyapproval.Butgoddamn,shehasitanyway.
“King-sizebedortwotwins?Orseparaterooms?”ThewomanbehindthecountereyesmeinawayI’veencounteredamilliontimes.Likesherecognizesme,and…likeshewantsme.
I’mnotespeciallycomfortablewitheitherofthoselooks.It’swhyIkeepmycaponandtrytoblendintothescenery,whichishardtoaccomplishatsix-foot-threeinasmallhotellobbywithnooneelsearound.
GlancingdownatSloanebesideme,Ifoldatthebrimofmyhat,wonderingwhenitmightsnapfromtherepeatedpressure.
Sloaneisoutrightglaringatthewoman.Shedidthiswhenshewasyounger,whenshehadthemostblatantchildhoodcrushonme.Beaumadefunofmeaboutit,andI’dhavetotellhimtoshuthisbigmouthsohewouldn’tembarrassher.
“We’lltake—”
“Twotwins,”Sloanesupplieswhilestillstaringatthewomanwithablanklookonherface.Shepeeksupatmefrombehinddarklashes,blondetendrilsslippingdownaroundhertemple,andgivesmeashysmileandashrug.“Morefunthatway.”
Fun.IwonderforwhobecausethemoretimeIspendone-on-onewithher,themoreitseemsliketorture.Likeavideoreelofmissedopportunities.Ofmebeingoblivious.OfmebeingtoobigofacowardtopursueherwhenIhadaninklingofsomethingmore.
Butbeingparalyzedbyindecisionisn’tnewforme.TheonlyplaceIdon’tfeelthatisusuallyontheice,betweenthosepipes.
That’swhenIfeelincontrolofmylife.Ifeelsafetheresomehow.
SpendinganothernightinthesameroomasSloanefeelsalotlesssafethanfacingflyingpiecesoffrozenrubbersomehow.
Forfourseconds,IflashimagesinmymindofherandItangleduptogether.Skinslidingonskin.Hermoaningmyname.Ithinkaboutbendingheroverthebackofthelobbycouchandpeelingthoseleggingsdownherfirmthighs,tellingherexactlywhattodowhileIwatch.
AndthenIforcemyselftostop.
“Okay.Hereareyourroomkeys.”Sheslidesasmallenvelopeacrossthedesk,andIcanhearthewomantalkingaboutWi-Fipasswordsandwheretoeat,butIturnawaytostareatthecrystallineglacierlakeoutthewindows.I’mtootiredtofocusonanythingotherthanhowthewateristheexactcolorofSloane’seyes.
Iwaswrongaboutthesky.Iwaswrongabouttheeggshell.
It’stheglacierlake.
Iseehereverywhere.
Agentlehandatthecenterofmybackreturnsmyfocustothecharminglobbyofthesmallboutiquehotel.“Ready?”
Withoneofourbagsineachhand,InodandletSloaneleadtheway.Herleanfigurepullsaheadofmetowalkdownthehallway.“Apparently,thereareonlymainfloorroomsrightnow.”
“Ijustneedsomewheretosleepforabit.Iwasgoingtogetyouyourownroom.”
Herhandflicksoverhershoulder,dismissingthecomment.“Savesusmoneythisway.”
Ialmostlaugh.Neitherofusneedstobeconcernedwithsavingmoney.Iknow—likeIdidwhenIwasyounger—Sloanekeepsmeclosebecausesheworriesaboutme.
Shestopsabruptly,glancingbetweentheenvelopeinherhandandthenumberonthedoor.“Herewego.”Sheswipesthekeycardandwithasoftbeep,thedoorunlocks.
Weentertheroom,andit’snicerthanIexpected,spaciouswithaslidingglasspatiodoorthatopensontoasmallcourtyardfacingtheaquamarinelake.Bestofall,thebedslooksodamngood.
Withoutsayingaword,Iwalkacrosstheroom,kickoffmyshoes,dropmycoatandhatonthefloor,andflopdownontothebedclosesttothewindows.
Idriftoffstaringatthecrystal-bluewater.Daydreamingaboutthegirlwithcrystal-blueeyes.13Jasper
MydadandIareusuallytheoneswhotakethequadsout,butyesterdayhewonatthecasino.Sotoday,heboughttwomoresowecangoadventuringasafamily.Weliveinadouble-wideandeatanawfullotofmac‘n’cheesebytheendofthemonth,butdadloveshistoysandneverhesitatestospendonthem.
We’resqueezinginaquickmaidenrideinafterourtypicalSundayfamilydinner.Wemaynothavealotofsparecash,butwe’rehappy.
Andit’sfun.
Thelightisgolden,andsoaretheleavesfallingfromthetreesabovetheditch.Fallisintheair,butit’swarmtonight,almosthuntingseason,andIcan’twaittodothatwithmydadtoo.
WeclearacoveredculvertandIcatchalittleair—grinning.Icanhearmylittlesister,Jenny,laughingwildlybehindmeandcanalmostenvisionthewayherlightbrownhairiswhippingoutthebackofherhelmetasshegetsmorecomfortableaddingspeed.
Hernewunitissmaller,lighter—easiertohandlethanwhatDadandIaredriving.Mom’slookslikesomesortofBarbiequadwithitsneonpinkpaintjob.
Withaglanceback,IseemyparentsmoseyingbehindJennywhileIleadtheway,serpentiningupanddowntheditchwalls.
MyparentsarebickeringbecauseMomdoesn’tknowhowtohandlethevehicleproperly,butshealsodoesn’twantDadtellingherwhattodo.
Itmakesmesmile.
Iknowthespotwe’recomingupto.DadandIhaveriddenitamilliontimes.He’sputthefearofGodintomewiththiscrossing.Twohighwaysintersectnearabendintheroad,andacopseoftreescanmesswithperceptioncomingoutoftheditch.
We’vepracticedit,overandoveragain.
“I’mgoing!”Icallback.
Mydad’shandshootsup,offeringmeathumbsup.“Payattention!Letusknowhowitlooksfromtheotherside,”ishisresponse.
IguessnowthatI’mfourteen,hebelievesIknowwhatI’mdoingouthere.PridebloomsinmychestasIclimbtheinclineontotheshoulderandcarefullycheckbothways.
Ilook,Ilisten,andwhenIdeemitsafe,Irevmyengineandshootforwardacrossthehighwaysafely.
Istopandturnontheothersidetocatchaviewofthebendintheroad.Alargesemiwithatraileriscoming,andIcanseetherestofmyfamilyontheotherside.Alltogether.Smilingandlaughing—eventhroughthebickering.
Again,Ifeelproudthatmydadtrustedmetobethefirstacross.Ifeelcapable.Ifeelgrown-up.
We’vespentyearspracticingsafetyprotocol,soIknowallthesignals.Iliftmyhandstraightabovemyhead,thesignweusefor“stop”anytimewegooutonthequadsand,inthewinter,thesnowmobiles.
ExceptJennydoesn’tknowthesehandsignals,andshemustmistakeitforawave,ormeusheringherover.Ormaybeit’sbecausethesunislowandinhereyes.
Eitherway,Iseehergrinningatmefromtheothersideofthehighwayasherwristtwiststhethrottle.
Iscreamathertostop.Dadlurchesforwardasthoughhecangrabherandstopher.
Butit’stoolate.
AndI’llneverstopfeelingresponsible.
Iwake,nauseousandunsettled.Thatdreamalwaysdoesittome.Ikeepmyeyesclosed,tryingtothinkofsomethinghappyforfourseconds.Buteverythingisshitrightnow,andtheonlythingthatpopsupistheshysmileSloanehitsmewithsometimes.Theoneshegivesrightbeforeshetucksherhairbehindherearsanddropshereyes.
She’stheonlypersonI’vetoldaboutthehandsignal,abouthowI’mresponsibleforJenny’sdeath.OtherpeopleknowtheColesNotesversionofthedaymylifewenttoshitbuthavenoideaIcanstillmakemyshoulderachefromwishingIhadn’tliftedmyarmtoshowoffthatIknewthosehandsignalsthatday
Whenmyeyescrackopen,Itakeabriefinventoryofmybody,notingtheachesandpainsincertainspotsthatgrowmorepersistentwithage.
Myvisiongainssomefocus,andthenmyeyescatchafiguredownattheedgeofthelake.Sloaneisstandingthereinaterrybathrobe,staringatthewater.Herhairispulledupinatightbun,theelegantlinesofhernecksilhouettedagainstthesettingsun.Waterthatwasbluenowreflectsthedramaticsky,allpurplesandpinksandgolds,darkcloudsstreakingacrossaperfectlystilllake.
Ibetitwouldbeagoodlaketoplayhockeyonwhenitfreezes.ButI’mtheonewhofreezesastherobedropsfromhershoulders.Andthenherthongcladass,tightwaist,tonedback,andblackbrastrapsareallIsee.
Herfingerscurlintoherpalms,andhershouldersscrunchup.It’slikeI’mwatchinghergiveherselfamentalpeptalk.
Ismileatthesight.
Roundasscheeksfoldinequalturnasshewalksslowlytowardthewater.Shedipsonetoeindaintilyandsnapsitbackwithashiverthatracksherentirebody.
Iseethedeepbreathshetakesbeforeshechargesintothewater.Alittlewild,alotbrave.Theresheis.
IswearIcanhearhersquealasshedivesintothewater,fullysubmergingherselfunderthestillsurfaceforafewbeatsthatseemtolastalifetime.Herheadbreaksoutseveralfeetfromshore,rivuletsofwaterstreamingoffherbarefaceasherhandscomeuptopushthewetnessawayfromherclosedeyes.
Shetreadswaterandturnsawaytolookatthemountains,justblacksilhouettesagainstthefierysky.
Isitupandstare.Itcouldbeapainting.Aphotograph.Abeautifulwomaninabeautifullake.
It’speaceful.Serene.SounlikehowIfeelinside.ItmakesmewonderwhatviewBeau’slookingatrightnow.
Ifindmyselfupandwalkingouttheslidingdoor,needingfreshair,wantingtotouchthisviewsomehow.Commitittomemory.Likerunningmyfingersoverthemoundsofoilpaint.Italmostdoesn’tseemreal.Ineedtoprovetomyselfthatitis.
MysockedfeetgrowcoldasIwalkovergrassthatisjustalittletoofirm.Ithasaslightcrunchwhenmyweightpressesintoit,eveningfrostalreadydescendingoverthepicturesquemountainvalley.
WhenIgettothewater’sedge,Ifeelthefinestgrainsofsandslippingthroughthefabric,lendingagrittytexturetothebottomsofmyfeet.ButIdon’tcare.I’mstillentirelyfocusedonSloane.
MyfriendSloane,whoisstilltreadinginplacegracefullylikethisisjustanotherdanceforher.Iwonderwhatshe’sthinkingabout.IwonderifshefeelsasshreddedasIdo—astatteredandtorn.
Almostinslowmotion,sheglancesoverhershoulder,thetipofhernosewigglingjustonceassheturnstofaceme.“Hi.”
It’sonesimpleword,andsomehowitstilltugsatmychest.I’msoatpeaceinherpresence.Ialwayshavebeen.
“Hi.”Ishovemyhandsinmypockets,pressingmythumbsagainsteachfingertipinturntocalmmynerves.Tryingnottothinkaboutmyfriend’sbareassandallthethingsI’ddotoit.
AndthenIgivein.Butonlyforfourseconds.IgivemyselffoursecondsofchaosbeforeIreinitinandpackitdown—beforeIforcemyselfbackintocontrol.
Sloane’sheadquirks.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Countingtofour.”
“Isthatadumbjockjoke?”
Ihuffoutalaugh.“Reallynice,Sunny.”
Shegivesmeaperfectlyinnocentlook,alldoe-eyed.“Ya’llaren’tfamousforyourbrains.”She’steasingmebutIdon’tbite.
“It’sathingIdotohelpwithfeelingoutofcontrol.SowhenanopposingplayerscoresagoalorsomethingIgivemyselffoursecondsoffrustrationbeforeIgetmyheadbackinthegame.”
Oureyesshiftandthenlockinthewakeofmyexplanation.
“Areyoufeelingoutofcontrolrightnow?”
“No.”Myreplycomesalittletooquickly.
Shenods,teethpressingintoherbottomlip.Hereyessparkwithachallenge.Andthenshesays,“Comein.”
“No,thankyou.Ibetit’sfreezing.”
“Didn’tknowtheygrew’emsosoftoutatWishingWellRanch,”shetaunts,slidingherarmsawayandpushingherselffurtherback.
“Don’tgotoofar,”leapsfrommymouthbeforeIcanstopit.
“Whatareyougonnado?”Herlegskickunderthewater,pushingherfurtheraway.“You’retooscaredtocomeinhere.”
Ipressmythumbsintothepadsofmyfingersandcounttofouragain.
“WhatwouldBeaudo?”
Istopandstareatherblankly.Onlyshewouldhavetheballstothrowthatinmyfacerightnow.Everyoneelsehasbeenwalkingoneggshells,butherconstantstreamofconsciousnesswon’tallowit.
It’srefreshing.
IreachmyrighthandovermyshouldersandpullmyT-shirtofffromthebackofmyneck.Itfallstothesand,andIcatchSloane’seyestracingmytorsobeforesheforcesherselftolookawayquicklyatthepeakssurroundingus.
Thesilenceisalmostdeafening.AllIcanhearisthesoftswishofwaterlappingatthesandyshoreandthequiethumofhighwaytrafficinthedistance.Imakequickworkofmyjeansandsocksbeforepullingonearmacrossmychestintoastretch,hopingshedoesn’twatchmetooclosely.
“WhatwouldBeaudo?”Herheadflipsinmydirectionatthesoundofmyvoice,andIgrinather,feelinginstantlylightersomehow.“He’druninthereanddunkyoursnarkylittleass.”
Andthat’sexactlywhatIdo.Ichargeintotheglacierlakeanddivein,goingstraightforher,ignoringthewaytheicywatersuckstheairfrommylungs
Shetriestoswim,butIcatchuptoherinnotime.MyhandsslipthroughthewaterandoverhersmoothskinasIgrabher,heftherup,andtossherthroughtheair.
Herplayfulsquealstakemeback,andwhenshehitsthewaterwithaloudslap,Ibarkoutalaughthatechoesaroundus,bouncingoffthemountains.Idon’tknowwhereBeauis,butIdoknowhe’dapproveofthis.Andsomehowthatbringsmecomfort.
Shesurfaces,sputteringandwipingatherface.“JasperGervais!Youdidnotjustdothattome!”
“Idid.Andyousquealedlikeapig.”
Shegaspsinfauxoffense.“Takethatback!”
“Okay,fine.Yousquealedlikeapiglet.Farmorehigh-pitchedandlady-likethanaplainoldhog.”
“Youdick!”She’slaughingbreathlesslyasshelaunchesherselfatme.Herstrongthighswraparoundmyribcage,andshebringsherhandsontothetopofmyhead,tryingtopushmeunder.
Thepositionputsherbreastsrightatmyeyelevel.Andgod.Itrytobeagoodfriendandnotstare,butthebrapushesthemupinthemostdistractingway.Thecoolairandevencolderwaterhasgoosebumpsdottingthetopsofthem.Nipplesstrainingagainsttheflimsyfabric.
“You’regoingdown,Gervais!”Shekeepspushingonme,gigglingandwigglingandtryingherhardest.She’sstrong,butnotstrongenough,andherwordsaresoopentomisinterpretation,Ican’tevenhandleit.
“Oh,I’llgodown,Winthrop.ButI’mtakingyouwithme.”
Andwiththatwarning,Iflopback,plungingusbothdownintotheicydepths.Forafewbeats,it’ssilentanddark.
Shegrabsatme,andIgivemyselffoursecondsofinsanityinourprivatebubblebeneaththelake.
Ourhandsroamfranticallyoveroneanother’sbodies,sluicingthroughthewater.Myhand,herthigh.Herhand,myribs.
Areweplaying?Wrestlinglikewhenwewerekids?
Orarewetakinglibertieswe’dnevertakeabovewater?
Onthefourthsecond,Ipushupandawayandwebothcrestthewater,pantingandstaringateachother.Hertonguedartsoutoverherlips,tastingtheglacierwaterclingingthere,andhereyesdroptomymouthasImirrorthemotion.
Thewaterbetweenusdoesn’tfeelsocoldanymore.Iletmyselfstareatherforanotherfourseconds.Thetensionexpandsinmychest,pushinguntilitfeelslikeitmightburst.
“Remindsmeofplayingintheriverwhenwewerekids.Jumpingoffthebridgeonthebackquarter.”
Sheblinks,likeI’vejustshakenherawake,andplastersaflatsmileonherface.“Yeah.Ineverdidquitegetthenerveuptojumpoffthatbridge.”
“Nextsummer,”Ioffer,lettingmyselffloatawayfromhersoIdon’tdosomethingcolossallystupidlikeletmyselfgetallhandsywithheragain.
“Yeah.”Herteethchatterasthewordpassesbetweenherlips,andInodtowardtheshore.
“Let’sgo.Getyouwarmedup.Trackdownsomefood.”
“Icouldreallyuseadrink,”shesays.
FuckingsameIthinktomyself.
Weswimuntilwecanstand.Thetinypebblesdigintothebottomsofmyfeet,andIworktokeepmyfocusonwhereI’mgoingratherthanlettingmyeyeswanderoverSloane’sbodyinthedepartinglight.
She’stootemptingandI’mtooconfused.
Hereyesstayonthegroundtoo.
Ontheshore,shedriesoffwithherrobeandtriestohandittometouseasatowel,clutchingherarmsoverhermostlynakedbody.Butit’sherwideeyesthatcatchmyattention.Ican’tplacethelookinthem,butIknowI’mnotlettingherwalkbacktotheroomuncoveredandcold.
Ismileandshakemyhead,pullingtherobefromherhandandwrappingitaroundhershoulders.
“Butyou’llbecold,”shesayswhileIgiveabriskrubupanddownherarmsafewtimesoncethegarmentisinplace.
Igrabherhandandstartwalkingbacktoourroom.“Youdon’tneedtoworryaboutme,Sunny.”
Idon’tlookbackwhenIhearhersoftresponse.
“Ialwaysworryaboutyou,Jas.”14Sloane
Sloane:Thiswaitressisafan.
Jasper:Sloane.
Sloane:What?Shelookslikeshe’sgoingtogobbleyouup.
Jasper:Don’t.
Sloane:Areyoublushing?
Jasper:She’sastranger.Doingherjob.Sheisn’tlookingatmelikeanything.
Jasper:Don’tmakethatface.
Sloane:Ifyouneedspace,justleaveasockonthehotelroomdoor.
Jasper:Sunny,shutup.I’dneverdothattoyou.
Thewaitressseatsusnexttooneoftheenormouswindowsoverlookingthelake.Wedidn’tknowwhattoexpectatRoseHillReach,onlythatitwasrightnextdoortothehotel.It’salovelyspotthough.AllwindowsfacethelakeandonedooropenstoalongdockwithawidelandingthatI’massumingcouldfunctionasapatiointhesummer.
Insideit’sallvaultedceilingsanddarkwoods.Riverstonefireplacesandbutcherblocktables.Inonecorner,thereareevenpooltablesanddartboards.
It’scozy.IalmostfeellikeI’mataskilodgeasIremovemyjacketandscootdownintotheroundedwoodenchair,gazingoutoverthewater.ThewaterwhereJasperandIjust…well,Idon’tknowwhatweweredoing.
IglancebackatJasperandwatchhimfoldhistall,powerfulframeintoachairthat’stoosmallforhim.
Hereachesuptotakeoneoftheburgundy,leather-boundmenusthewaitressisnowholdingouttous.Hereyeswidenwhenthetipsofhisfingersbrushagainstherhand.Evenhiddenbeneaththebrimofhishat,he’srecognizable—especiallyonlyfourhoursawayfromCalgary.
“Ohmygod.Hi,”shebreathesout,lookinglikeakidonChristmas.“You’reJasperGervais.”Oneofherhandsfallsacrossherchest,andIhavetoresisttheurgetorollmyeyes.
Jaspergivesherakindsmileandagraciouslittledipofhishead.“Hi,”isallhesaysback,turninghissmallsmiledowntothemenu.IntypicalJasperfashion,he’sfriendly,butnotthatfriendly.
Friendlyenoughthatnoonecansayhe’srude,butnotfriendlyenoughtoinvitemoreconversation.
Notthatit’severstoppedme.
“I,uh…”Thegirl’sbrowneyesflashbetweenus,tryingtoreadthesituationbeforeshepointsafingerlikeshe’scomeupwithagreatidea.“I’llgiveyouaminutewiththemenus!”She’schipper,andIcan’thelpbutnoticethewayhercheekspinkwhenhereyeslandonJasperagain.
She’sstarstruckandit’shonestlycute.
Jasperdoesn’tnoticethough,orattheveryleast,doesn’tcomment.Hehunchesoverhismenuandstaresathisoptions.Itstrikesmethatheisn’taneasymantogettoknow,thathemustseemclosedofftomostpeoplehemeets.Twodimensionaleven.ButIknowbetter.Iknowhishumor.Iknowhowfiercelyheloveshisfamily,andIknowhehassocialanxietythatmakeshimseemstandoffishtomost.
Hekeepssomuchlockedupinsidethathenevertalksabout.
“Whatareyougoingtohave?”
Myeyessnapupandbackdownatthemenufilledwithstandardpubfare.“Asalad.”
Jasper’sheadtipsupandhestaresatme,expressioncarefullyblankbeforehiseyesroamoverme,catchingonmyshoulderthatpeeksoutofthenecklineofthethickknitnavy-bluesweaterIrecentlypurchased.
Iwonderifhe’sabouttosaysomethingaboutmymealchoice.IknowI’mthin.Toothin.ButafteryearsoffightingmywaytothetopofourballetcompanyandthenbeingtoldIneedtolookacertainwayforourwedding,it’shardtochangemymindset.Besides,witheverythingthat’shappenedsincethewedding,myappetitehasbeenalmostnonexistent.
Heshrugsanddropshisgazebackdown.“Okay.”
Ikeepreadingtheplasticpagesbeforeme.“Oooh.TheyhaveBuddyzBestontap!”
Amusementsparksonhishandsomeface.“Youcangetsomethingbetter,youknow.”
Ilaugh.“Ofcourse,Iknow.ButI’vedevelopedatasteforit.”
Jasperflipshismenushutandleansbackinhischair,crossinghisarms.Hisbicepsbulgeagainstthesoft,graywaffle-knitHenleyhe’swearing.
Itrynottostare.
“Yousureyouaren’tjustorderingittobecontrary?”
Ileanbackandmirrorhisposition.Hismidnighteyesdropforasplitsecondtomyshoulderagainbeforerestingbackonmyface.“Nope.Iloveit.Ibetittastesdifferentontap.Bettereven.”
Hisgrinwidens.“Yes.I’mcertainthequalityisreallyaffected.”
Inod.“Iwonderifit’savailableinbottles.”
Hesnorts.
“I’llhavetotryallthreetoreallypassjudgment.”
Heleansacrossthetablewithasparkinhiseyeandasmallsmirkonhisshapelylips.Hisfreshscent—spearmintandsomethingearthy,likeoneofthosedriedeucalyptussprigs—driftsmywayashislongfingerstaponthetabletwice.“Newgoalforthisroadtrip:tryBuddyzBestabsolutelyeverywherewecan.Becometrueconnoisseurs.”
Ilaugh,waggingmyheadasIleanforward.Gravitypullsmetowardhimandoureyeslock.TheylocksohardthatIcan’tpullmineaway.Hisdarkbluesarelikeavacuum.Theysuckmestraightin,andforasplitsecond,everythingaroundusgetslostintherushofbloodinmyears.
“Alright!Youtwoready?”Theserverpopsupnexttous.
Webothstartandsitupstraight.
Withaquickcoughingnoise,Jasperrecovers.“Yeah.Sloane,goahead.”
Ituckmyhairbehindmyearsandsmileatthegirlwhosecheekshavegonepinkagain.“I’llhaveagreensaladwithvinaigrette,please.”Ihandbackthemenu,faceflippinginJasper’sdirectionwhenhesayshe’llhavethesame.
Hedoesn’tpaymeanymindthough.“ButI’llalsohaveanorderofthebatteredcodbitesandpopcornchicken.”
Shenods,smilingsobroadlymycheeksalmosthurtforher.
“I’llalsohaveapintofBuddyzBest,”Isay.
Jasperholdshismenuout.“Let’smakethatapitcher.”
Shereadsourorderbacktousandscampersaway.Icanfeeltheotherstafflookingoveratus,butIdon’tpaythemanymind.BecausethewayJasperisstaringatmerightnowhasmystomachtwistingandthighsclenching.
Ireturntogazingoutthewindowattheblacklakeandtrytogathermythoughts.
BecauseI’vebeenstaringatJasperGervaissinceIwastenyearsold,andsuddenly…he’sstaringback.
“Ithinkthepopcornchickenpairsbetter.”Ileanbackinmyseatandpatmystomach.Oncewehadoursalads,Jaspermadetheexcellentpointthatbeerdoesn’tpairallthatwellwithlettuce.Heexplainedhowwewouldn’tbegivingtheflavorprofileafairshakeifwedidn’ttasteitwithsomethingappropriatelygreasyandsalty.
WhichishowIfoundmyselfscarfingbackdeep-friedmeatsandconsideringtheirmeritswhileenjoyingasecondpitcherofcheapbeerthatdoesn’ttastethatgreatnomatterwhatIpairwithit.
Whatittasteslike,though,isrebellion.Andforrightnow,that’sgoodenoughforme.
Jaspernods,assessingtheplatesbeforeus.“Ithinkyou’reright.ButIlovefishandchipswithvinegar.”
Yeah,weorderedfriestoo.AccordingtoJasper,justsaying“fish”andnot“fishandchips”isweird.Throughallthegluttony,hehasn’tsaidawordaboutmyweightormentionedhowmuchorhowlittleIeat.He’sjustputfoodinfrontofmeandinvolvedmeinthefunoftryingitalloutwithhim.
Evenwitheverythingsofucked-up,Ican’trememberthelasttimeIfeltthisrelaxed.
TonightI’mbaskinginbeingmyself,anditfeelsgoodnotworryingaboutcaloriesorhoweveryonearoundmeisperceivingmyeverymove.
“Fair.Thatwasamazingtoo.Plus,thosefriesaretotallyhomemade.”
Hetossesanotheroneinhismouth,chewingandnoddingappreciatively.“Ithinkyou’reright.Wannaplayagameofpoolbeforewegobackandpassout?”
Hejutshischinjustpastme,eyescatchingonmyshoulder.Again.AsIturntolookatthepooltable,IsneakapeekdownatittoseeifIspilledsomethingthereorhavesproutedalonghairoutofamoleorsomething.
Seeingthatmyskinisclear,IhumcontemplativelyasIcatchsightofthepooltable.Itisn’toverlybusybutit’snotemptyeither.Therearepeoplemillingaround,sothatmeanswitnessestohowbadIamatpool.
AndIhatebeingbadatthings.Hatefailing.Hatelosing.I’mcompetitivetomycore.
“Idon’treallyknowhow.”
“Well,I’lljusthavetoshowyou.”Jasperpushestostand,andwithtwosteps,hasroundedthetableandhoversovermewithoneoutstretchedhand.Helooksrelaxed.Thewayhishaircurlsoutofthebackofhishatmakesthetipsofmyfingersitch.
“I’mgood.I’lljustwatchyou.”
Hescoffsplayfully.“Comeon,Sunny.WWBD?”
“Huh?”Myheadtipstotheside,andIeyehiswide,warmpalmskeptically.
“WhatwouldBeaudo?WWBD.”
“Iactuallythinkthat’smoreofatonguetwisterthanjustsayingthesentence.”
Hishandbouncesinfrontofme.“Stopstalling.Let’sgo.Beauwouldplaypoolevenifhesuckedatit.Andhe’dhavefunsucking.”
IquirkasuggestivebrowatJasper.I’msurethat’snothowhemeantit,butafterseveralpintsofshittybeer,it’swheremyheadgoes.
Hisusuallyseriousfaceimmediatelybreaksoutinabreathtakingsmileasheglancesacrosstheroomwithalaugh.Whiteteeth.Dimpleshidingunderhisstubble.It’simpossibletolookatJaspersmilingandnotsmiletoo.
Laughterbubblesinmythroat,andIslapmypalmintohisashepullsmeuptostanding.“Fine.ButI’mgoingtosuck.”
Histongueslidesoutoverhislipsalmostsuggestively,headshakinglikeI’mintrouble.Somethingaboutthecombinationmakesanacheunfurlbehindmyhips.Heiseffortlesslysexy.Totallydistracting.
“Butyou’regoingtohavefundoingit.”Hepointsatmeashedropsmyhandandreachesforourbeersbeforeturningtowardtheemptypooltableinthecorner.
We’retoeingthelineofthisjoke,evenforus,butthealcoholcoursingthroughmyveinshasmefeelingbolderthanusual.
“Ialwaysdo!”Isaycheerilytohisbroadbackthatpressesrhythmicallyagainstthegrayfabricofhisshirtashewalksaway,knowingI’llfollowbecausehehasmybeerandakillerass.
Iwatchhisheadtipbackatmywords.Asmallprayerforpatience,I’msure.“JesusChrist,Sunny.”
Aftersettingourdrinksonatalltable,hegrabstwocuesandturnstowardmewithachallengingglintinhiseye.Myheartfluttersinmychest,andreliefhitsmelikeatidalwave.I’vebeensodamnworriedabouthim.Whenheretreatsintohimself,hescaresme.Iworrythatifhegoestoofarback—ifheslipsintothosedarkcracks—thathewon’tcomebackout.
Orhewon’tcomebackoutthesame.Broodyandshybutsweet.JasperGervaisissodamnsweetunderhisstandoffishexteriorthatitalmostmakesmyteethache.
That’sanothersideofhimfewpeoplegettosee.AndIthinkIlikethatabouthimtoo.Hedoesn’tgivehisattentionawaywilly-nilly.Hedoesn’tabsentlyhumalongtowhatyou’resayingwhilescrollingonhisphone.IfyouhaveJasperGervais’sattention,you’vegotitall,andthat’sbecausehewantsyoutohaveit.
Hedoesn’tjustlistentome.Hehearsme.Heseesme.
Andthere’ssomethingpreciousaboutthat,thewayhecanlookatsomeoneandmakethemfeelliketheonlypersonintheroom.He’snotshowy,he’snotthelifeoftheparty,butheknowshowtomakeapersonfeelspecial,tofeellovedandcaredfor.
I’veneverknownasoulmoretrulypresent.
Thewayheis?Itspeakstome.Italwayshas.He’slikeawarmblanketthatIwanttowrapmyselfupin.Andwhenhiseyesarebrightandhissmileissoftlikerightnow?
Forgetit.He’sbreathtaking.
“Readytoplay?”
“Let’sdoit.”Myeyeswiden.God.Whatiswrongwithme?“Pool.Let’sdothepool.”Iholdahandup.“Playpool.Notdothepool.Ha.”IquicklyreachformybeerandtakeadeepswigwhileJasperchucklesatme.
Handsomefuckingbrain-cell-killingjerk.
“DoIneedtocutyouoff?”
“Shutup,Gervais.Let’splay.”
Fireblazesinhiseyesandhestaresbackatme.“Okay,Sloane.Let’splay.”15Sloane
Jasper:Whyareyoutakingsolonginthere?
Sloane:Givingmyselfadrunkpeptalk.
Jasper:Whatisthat?
Sloane:It’swhereIsplashwateronmyfaceatmyselfinthemirror.ThenItellmetopulltogetherandbecool.
Jasper:You’retalkingtoyourselfinthewomen’sbathroomtobe…cool?
Sloane:Exactly.
Jasper:Sunny.Belesscool.Comesaveme.Thewaitresskeepstryingtotalktome.
Sloane:Sotalktoher.
Jasper:Idon’tliketalkingtopeople.
Sloane:Youtalktome.
Jasper:You’renotpeople.
Sloane:Lmao.WhatamIthen?
Jasper:Myperson.
“Stopit.I’malreadydead.”
Hebarksoutalaughasheroundsthetableandleansoverit.Ispoolsupposedtobesexy?BecauseJaspermakesitlooksexy.
Hishardbodyleansagainstthegreenfelttop.Hisveinedhandswraplightlyaroundthecue.ThewayhiseyesnarrowlikethisisaStanleyCupfinalorsomething.
ThewaythatboyishsmilelightsuphisfacewhenIcomplainabouthimkickingmyass.Ihatelosing…andyet,toseehimsmilelikethat,I’dloseoverandoveragain.I’dsitonacoldroof.I’ddanceintherain.I’dgoonaroadtripanddrinkshittybeerandeatgreasyfoods.
ForJasperI’ddoanything.Exceptactuallytellhimthat.
Becausewhenheturnsmedown,I’llbreak.Amillionlittlepiecesofmescatteredintothewind.
Itdoesn’tmatterthatmyloveforhimispatheticandtragicallyunrequited
Itjustis.Theskyisblue.Thegrassisgreen.AndI’velovedJasperGervaisfromthefirstdayIlaideyesonhim.
Withafewtoomanypintsofcheapbeer,it’seasytoadmittomyselfbecausemymentalwallshaveevaporatedentirely.I’matwenty-eight-year-oldwomanwithasoul-consuming,one-sidedchildhoodcrush.It’shilariousifIthinkaboutit.
Adrunk,girlishlaughbubblesoutofme,andI’mnotlaughingwithme—I’mdefinitelylaughingatme.
“See?Youjustmadeajokeaboutbeingdead.Youlaughatthemostmorbidshit.”Jaspergrinsatmefrombeneathhiscap,leanedontheverticalpoolcue.
Ishakemyheadwithasmileandtakeanothersip.Ireallydolaughatinappropriatestuff.Ifheonlyknew.
“Ireallyamatrociousatthis.Ihatemyselfalittlebitforittoo,”Ireply,butI’mchucklingasIsayit.
Hischintipsoutatmebeforehemovesinmydirectionfromtheoppositesideofthetable.“Here.Letmeshowyou.You’reholdingittootight.”
Jasperrackshiscueonthewallandstepsupbehindme,hisfresh,mintyscentavividreminderoflisteningtohimtakeashowerinthesamehotelroomasme.Thesmellofhissoapwaftedoutontherushofsteamthatescapedwhenheemergedwithatowelwrappedaroundhiswaistanddarktattoostracingeveryhardlineofmuscle.Ididn’tgetagoodlookatthemallbecauseIdidn’twanttogawk.
Iforcedmyselftostareatthee-readeronmylap.Puretorture.Istaredatthesamepageofthesamebookfortheentiretenminutes,likemyabilitytoreadgrewwingsandflewoutofmyheadatthemerethoughtofhimnakedandsoapy.
Sure,we’velivedattheranchhouseforthepastweek,butthereweresomanyotherpeopleinandoutoftheplacethatitneverfeltlikeweweretrulyalone,otherthanthenightswespentsittingontheroof.
Now?Ontheroadtogether?Itlikewe’recompletelyisolated.
“Likethis.”Hispecsbumpintothebladesofmyshouldersashestandsbehindme,armsdroppingdownaroundmytorsolikeacage.Mybodyseizesup,andhedoesn’thelpmatterswhenhesoftlysays,“Relax,Sloane.Bendoverthetable.”
Mycheeksflamedarklikeacherry,andIswallow,beforedoingashesays.Ihingeatthehips,slidingmylefthanduptheshaftofthecueandliningitupwiththewhiteball.
I’malreadybadatpoolandhavingJasperimitatingfuckingmefrombehindinpublicdefinitelyisn’tgoingtomakemeanybetter.Alltheballsarejustablurofcolorbeforemebecausemybodyisentirelyhomedinonhis.Thefeel.Thesmell.Thewaymychestvibratesfromthebutterfliescrashingaroundinthere.
Ilaugh.“IthinkIsawthisinaHallmarkmovieonce.”
Hisrighthandcupsmyelbowandhislefthandslidesdownmyarmashegentlyadjustsmyposition.
MybiggestworryisthatI’mgoingtogrindmyassbackintohimlikeacatinheat.Thebeergogglesarereal.Asrealastheshamespiralwillbetomorrow
Becool.
Becool.
Becool.
EvenmyinnervoiceslursasIgivemyselfanotherinternalpeptalk.
“Thisisn’taHallmarkmovie,Sunny.”Hiswarmbreathcaressesthesideofmyneckandbreezesthroughmyhair.Isuckinaquickbreathandmynipplespebbleinstantlyashishipslineupwithmine.
“Whatisit?”Myvoicecomesoutasahoarsewhisper.
Hislefthandmovesup,histhumbbrushingonceovertheboneinmywristbeforeheslideshisfingersoutovermine.“Relax.”Hegentlyshimmiesmywrist.Ithinktryingtoindicatemyhandistootense.AndthenIwatchraptlyasthepadsofhisfingersdustoverthemassivediamondringthatstilladornsmyfinger.
“Thisisafriendteachinganotherfriendhowtoholdapoolcueproperly.”
“Right.”Itfeelslikesinkingintothatfreezingcoldlakealloveragain.Acolddoseofreality.
Hepullsmycuebackashehelpstolineuptheshotandthenpushesitbackthroughthecrookofmythumb.Whenthechalk-coveredtiphitstheball,wefreezeinplace.Hisbodyonmine.Mybodyflushagainsthis.
Forthatmoment,wepressintoeachother.
TheclankoftheballscrashingintoeachotherandthepoundingofmyheartisallIhear.Wewatchtogether,breathingintheairthattheotherbreathesout,asthesolidpurpleballdropsintothepocket.
Andthenhepullsaway.Likehealwaysdoes.AndI’mstillleaningoverthetable,overthinkingaperfectlyinnocentinteraction.
LikeIalwaysdo.
ThevoiceIhearnextsoundsliketwistingchalkonthefelttipofmypoolcue.“Ohmygod!AreyouJasperGervais?”
Idon’tevenneedtolooktoknowthatJasperofferedanuncomfortablesmileandhissignatureheadnodtoelicitthegirlishsquealingthatnowassaultsmyears.
Pushinguptostand,Iwalkovertotherackwithoutabackwardglance.Ipressthestickintotheclawsthatsuspenditonthewallbeforeturningandtakinginthescene.
Ipermitmyselfonedeep,desperate,centeringbreathbeforeIplasterasmileonmyfaceandmakemywaybackovertothebeerwaitingforme.
TwogirlsarefawningoverJasper.Iseethembutnotreally.AsusualIjustseeJasper.Thewayhisbodytenses,thelightpeachystainthatcreepsoutfromunderhisstubbleacrosshischeeks,hishandsobsessivelyfoldingatthebrimofhiscap.
Islideupbesidehim,reachingformybeerandwatchingonegirl’seyescatchonmyring.“Ohshit.Arey’alltogether?”Herfingerlazilyflicksbackandforthbetweenus.
Jasper’sheadswivelsinmydirection,eyesboringintominelikeImightsavehim.Butsavehimhow?I’mjustnotsure.EspeciallynotafterhetoldmeintheplainesttermspossiblethatI’mhisfriendashebentmeoverapooltable.
Ifthatfeltplatonicforhim,well,fuckmesideways,Imustbetotallyhammered.
“No.We’refriends.”
Thegirlsmilesandsighsinrelief.“Well,congratulationsontheengagement.”Everyone’seyesdroptomyhand,andIliftmyheadslowly,offeringherawansmileinreturn.“Thanks.”
“Willyousignthebackofmyshirt?”Herfriendasksasshetugshercoatdownandpullsherhairoveroneshoulder,exposingherbackandbarenecktomystupid-hot-friend-cousinwhojusttakesthepentheothergirlholdsouttohim
Whenhishandwrapsoverhershouldertoholdhershirtinplace,IwalkawayandorderanotherbeerthatIdonotneedbecauseIcannotstomachthesightofhishandonanotherwoman.
Ifeellikethere’shotcoalburninginmygut.
Iswivelmyhandinalet’sfuckinggomotiontothebartender,andhesmirksatme.HecanprobablytellI’mwobblyonmyfeetorthatmyeyesareglassy.Butyouknowwhat?Idon’tcare.I’vebeendutifulbeyondcomparetomyfamily.I’vebeenaprofessionalinmycareer.AndI’vehadafewshitweeks.IfIwanttowatchmylifecirclethetoilet,IcanatleastthrowbackafewdeliciousBuddyzBestswhileIdo.
IpeekovermyshoulderatJasper.Hishandsstillrestsontherandomgirl’sbackashecrouchestosignherplainwhiteshirt.
Ifmakingyourselfsickwithjealousywereanartform,I’dbeamasteratmycraft.Overtheyears,I’vetorturedmyselfbywatchingtheNHLAwards.I’vewatchedhimyearafteryearwithadifferentwoman,eachonemorestunningthanthelast.I’dwatchthemalldolledup,walkingtheredcarpet,smilingforthecameras,andwhenitwasover,I’dcrawlintobedandimaginewhattheyweredoingatthatverymoment.
I’denvisionthemclinkingcrystalflutesfilledwithfancyChampagne,surroundedbyotherplayersatsomeritzyclub,followedbyaquiethotelroom,whereJasperwouldpeeloffherslinky,sparklydress.Becausethey’realwaysslinkyandsparkly.
Hislips.
Hishands.
Hermoans.
Imaginingiseasiertotakethanseeingitupclose.
Iwrapmyhandsaroundtheslipperypintglassesthatappearinfrontofmeandwalkbacktoourtable.
“Iwantyoutosignmytits,”isthefirstsentenceIhear,anditmakesmeslamthepintglassesdownwithmoreforcethanImeantto.Drunkennesscollideswithangerandmakesthegoldenliquidsloshoverontomyhands.
“Ionlysignpaper,clothes,andmerch,”isJasper’ssimpleresponse.I’msurehe’sheardthistittyrequestmanytimes.
Iturn,wipingmyhandsonmyjeans,notcaringaboutthewetspotstheyleave.
Thegirlsidlescloserandrollshereyeslikewhathe’ssaiddoesn’tmatter.“Comeon.There’sbarelyanyonehere.”HerlipstipupinasmirkandshepullsthenecklineofheralreadydeepV-neckdownevenlower.“Righthere.”
“I’msorry,no.”
He’sapologizingtoher?Hiseyesfalltomine,andtohiscredit,hedoesn’tevenglanceathercleavagethatnowshowsthetrimofherredlacebra.
“Wouldyouratherdoitinthebathroomsonoonecansee?”
Hiseyesaretightandsearching.Helookslikeadogstaringupatmethroughthebarsatashelter,desperateforsomeonetosavehim,toshieldhim.Ithinkhe’salwaysneededthatinsomeway.
Holdinghisnavy-bluegaze,Itakeadeepswig,andgoddamn,themoreBuddyzBestIdrinkthebetterittastes.
“Girl,stop.You’reembarrassingyourself,”Iblurt,flickingmyeyesovertothewomanwhoisholdinghertitsouttohimlikeshe’sthedealofthedayatafastfoodrestaurant.
I’mcringingforJasperbutI’malsocringingforher.
Hilariously,I’mcringingformetoo.
Cringingallaround.
Hereyesnarrowandhershouldersshimmy.“He’sjustplayinghardtoget.”SheturnstoJasperwithaslow,felinesmilestretchingatherlips.“ButI’mpatient.AndIliketoplay.”
Isnortinthemostunladylikeway,myalcoholconsumptionreallycomingouttoplay.Butit’slikeI’mwatchingmyselffromabove.LittleSloanetakinghertoboggandownaslipperyslopewithnowaytostop.
“Playwhat?Sexualharassment?”
Thegirlcrossesherarmsunderherbreasts,pushingthemupagain.Andgod,theyreallyarebig.I’llreadilyadmitI’malittleenvious.“Richcomingfromthegirlwhowasjustallpressedupagainstamanwhoisn’therhusband.Betyourrealhusbandwouldlovetoknowthatyou’reherewhoringitupwithanNHLplayer.”
Oneloudlaugheruptsfrommythroat,andeveryonelooksatme,stunned.“Whoringitup?”
It’sfunny.Sterlingwouldabsolutelyusetheterm“whoringitup.”
Ilaughagain,andthegirlsstareatmelikeI’mfuckedinthehead.
Andthey’renotwrong.
ThethoughtofSterlingknowingI’montheroadwithJasper,thatwe’resharingahotelroom,playingpoolandhavingfun,issuddenlydeeplysatisfying.
Andhilarious.
IcanvividlyimaginetheveininhisforeheadthrobbingandhismeatyfingerscurlinginonthemselveswhilehestompshisfootanddemandsIcomehome.SuddenlySterlingWoodcockisnothingmorethanabadlybehaved,red-facedtoddlerinmyhead,andtheimagesendsmerightovertheedge.
Laughterbubblesupslowly,andbeforeIknowit,I’mlaughinghardenoughthattearsprickatmyeyes.
Jaspershakeshisheadatme,buttheamusementonhisfaceisclear.Hemovesinandslingsalongarmovermyshoulders.“Timetogo,Winthrop.”Heturnstoguideusaway,thegirlsclearlyconfusedasallget-out.
“No!IneedtofinishmyBuddyzBestsoIcanroundoutmytrainingasaconnoisseur.Andyouneedtosignthatgirl’sjugssoshecancontinuetopretendshewantsyourautographwhenshejustwantsyoutofondlehermelons.”
Thesoundofascoffandthesightofthegirlsturningtoleavedrawsmyattentionmomentarily.“IreallyhopeshetracksSterlingdownandtellshimaboutthis.”
Jasper’slaughrumblesagainstmeasheleadsmetoourcoats,anditjustmakesmelaughharder.Sosatisfying.EvenifIammakinganassofmyself.I’mjustpastthepointofcaring.Thepointofcaringwastwobeersago.
“Sunny,you’recutoff,andallmelonsaregoingtoremainintheproducesection.”
“Theywerebig,Jas.Andsoround.”Iholdmyhandsupinfrontofmeandmimicsqueezingasetofbreasts.“I’malittlejealousifI’mbeinghonest.I’dkillformelonslikethat.Doyouknowwhichgrocercarriesthem?I’dpaygoodmoney.”
Hecoversmeinmycoatandslingshisoverhisarmbeforetossingcashonthetable.ThenI’mtuckedupagainsthimagainandwe’rewalkingoutintothedark,frostynight.“You’reperfectthewayyouare,Sloane.Don’tletanyonetellyouotherwise.”
UsuallyI’dpreenandoverthinkthatsentence,butrightnowIjustgiggle.
“Areyousayingmymelonsarenice?”Ipressmychestoutandcupthem.
“You’regonnagetmeintroubleoneofthesedays,”ishowheresponds.
“WouldyousignmymelonsifIwantedyouto?”
“Ineedtogetyousomewater.”
“Don’tbesuchastickinthemud,Gervais.Answerthequestion!”
“Idon’tknow,Sloane.”Hisbreathpuffsoutinfrontofhimaswewalktheshortpathbacktoourhotelroom.“It’shardtoimagineyoueveraskingmetodothatbecauseyouknowmesowell.ReallyprovedyouunderstandhowmuchIhatethatshitbyshootingfromthehiplikeatotalnut.”
Myheadwhirls,andIleanonhissturdyform.“Or!”Iholdonefingeruptriumphantly.“Shootingfromthetits!”
“Lord,helpme,”hegroans.
“LiketheladiesonAustinPowers!Youknowtheones.Thebulletbras?Sooocool.”
“Thanksforlookingoutforme,Sunny,”isallherespondswithashegivesmeasqueeze.
Irestmyheadagainsttheedgeofhisshoulder.“Always,Jas.Plus,Ithinkthosegirlsreallylikedme.”16Jasper
Harvey:Youkidsgotsomewheresafetospendthenight?
Jasper:Yeah.HotelinRoseHill.
Harvey:Tworoomsorone???
Jasper:Don’tbeweird.Oneroom,twobeds.
Harvey:I’mnotweird.You’retheonewithacrushonyourcousin.
Jasper:She’snotmycousin.
Harvey:Ha!Butyoudidn’tdenythecrush.
Sloaneisdrunk.
Hilariouslyhammered.Totallyunfiltered.
AndleaningonmewayharderthanIeverimaginedsomeonehersizecould.
Hersoftgigglesaccompanythelowhumoftheyellowishneonlightsaboveusinthehotelhallway,andshekeepssteppingonmyfeet.
“You’reaballerina.Aren’tyousupposedtobegraceful?”
Sheignoresme,tiltingherheadupinmydirection.“Haveyounoticedthatyouhaveazitright…”Shepokesaspotrightnearmyhairlinethatcurvesaroundmytemple.
Isnort.“No,Sloane.Ihaven’tbeenconcernedwithmyskinoflate.”
“It’sannoying.Ibetyouwashyourfacewithshampoo,nevermoisturize,andonlyputsunscreenonwhenyou’reonvacation.Andyoustilllooklikethat.”Herhandwavesoverthelengthofmybody.
Ireachintomypocketandpulloutourroomkey,givingitaquickswipebeforepressingintotheroom.“Iwashmyfacewithbodywash.”
Shegroansandtossesherheadbackdramatically,staringattheceiling.“Youcan’tdothat.”
“Why?Myfaceispartofmybody.”
“Itdoesn’thavetherightstuffinit.”Sheswaysasshepullsathershoes,andIstiflealaugh.“Evenifitsmellsheavenly,likemintandwhateverelse.”
“Mintandeucalyptus.SamebodywashI’veusedforyears.Whatstuffdoesmyfaceneed?”
Ashoefliespastusandhitsthewall.“Whoa!”Hereyeswidenandshegigglesagain.Icountmyblessingsthatshe’sahappydrunk.Idon’tthinkIcouldhandleherbeingsadrightnow.“VitaminC.Peptides.Exfoliatingacids.You’renotgettinganyyounger.Youshouldconsideraretinol,butthenyouneedtoputsunscreenoneveryday.Ohmygod!”Thenextshoefollowssuitandsheswaggersintothebathroom.“Ihavethebestidea.”
“Sunny,I’mnotsurethisisthemomentwhereyou’llcomeupwithyourbestideas.”
“Youcallingmedrunk,Gervais?”shehollersfromthesmallroom.IhearshufflinginthereasIpeeloffmyshoesandstraightenhersbythedoor.
“Never.Youareperfectlysober.ButI’mgoingtograbyouabottleofwaterandyou’regoingtodrinkit,alright?”
“ArethereanyofthosesmallbottlesofGrandMarnierorwhatever?Hotelsarealwaysstockedwithalcoholthatnobodydrinks.Imean,whodrinksGrandMarnier?”
Ihuffoutaquietlaughandpadovertothefridge.Therearetwobottlesofwater.“Idon’tthinkthisisaGrandMarniertypeofhotel.”
ShepopsoutfromthebathroomdoorwayassoonasIstraighten,withoneplasticbottleineachhand.Butshehassomebottlesofherownthatshe’sholdingout.
“Facials!”shesqueals.
“What?”Iblinkonce,staringathersoftblondehairandhappyeyes.
SheholdsupapurplesqueezebottleandagreenglasstubofsomethingandshakesthematmelikeI’mstupid.“I’lldrinkyourwaterifyougivemeafacial.”
Gottasay,thefirstplacemyheadgoesisnottobeautyproducts.
“Don’tworry.I’llgiveyouonetoo.”
TheimageofSloanestraddlingmyface,myhandsonherasswhileshestaresdownintomyeyes,flashesintomymind.
It’snotthefirsttime.Usually,Ipushthethoughtaway,buttonightI’mfeelingjustlooseenoughtoletitlinger.Towatchhermove.Tothinkaboutthesoundsshemightmake.
“Buckup,Gervais!”Shehopsontothebed,dropstheskincareproductsonthemattress,andgesturesmetowardher,fingersfoldingdownontoherpalm.
Seriously,nothelping.Allthebloodinmybodyrushessouth,andIcoverbytossingherabottledwater.“Drinkthisfirst,”Isayasitflies.
Butherreflexesareslowtonightandthebottlehitsherintheface.
Squareinthenose.
TheguysandItosseachotherwaterbottlesonthebenchallthetime.It’ssecondnature.Sheflincheshard,andIgaspasItakelongstridesovertothebedtocheckonher.Herhandsareclaspedoverherface,andherfingersmovetocheckherselfover.
Ifeelawful.Ifeelsick.ThethoughtofanyonehurtingSloane—evenme—hasfirecoursingthroughmyveins.
WhenIreachforhershoulder,shepeersupatmeandshe…
Burstsoutlaughing.
“Jas!Youjustthrewthatatmyface,youawkwardmotherfucker!”
“Ididn’t!”I’mshakingmyheadindenial.“Ididn’tmeanto!I’msosorry!Areyouokay?”
Shelaughsharder.“I’mfine!I’mfine.Totallyfine.”Herwordswheezeoutaroundherlaughter.
Mypalmssqueezehershouldersintime,whichdrawsherattentionuptomyface.“Sunny,youarecrazedrightnow.Youneedtodrinksomewater.”
Herlipsrollinwardasshefightstoholdittogether.“Okay.”Shenodsandopensthewaterbottlebesideher.Sheliftsitalmosttoherlipsandstops,looksaway,andburstsoutlaughingagain.“Ican’tbelieveyousmokedmeinthefacelikethat!”
Iscrubatmystubble,tryingnottolaugh,butit’sinfectious.“Ididn’tmeanto.”
“Iknow.Butit’sstillfunny.”
Icrossmyarmsnow,tryingtoconveyhowseriousIamtoher.“It’snotfunny.”
“That’sonlybecauseyoudidn’tseeyourface.”Shecontortsherfeaturesintoaveryexaggeratedexpressionofhorrifiedshock.
Andthenbellylaughssomemore.
Igroanandtossmyhatdownonthedesk.“Betyouusedtogetkickedoutofclassforgettingthegiggles.”
Herindexfingerflipsoutfromaroundtheplasticbottleandpointsatmewhileshetakesadeepswigofwater.“Facts.”
Ican’thelpbutchuckle.Icantotallyseeit.ThebedsagsalittlewhenIsitdownontheedge,nottooclosetoSloane.Shecontinuestosipherwaterasherlaughtersubsides,andIpickupthetwoproductsshebroughtoutofthebathroom.
“Okay,fine.I’llgiveyouafacial.”
Thistimewhenshelaughs,waterspraysouttowardthefrontoftheroom.
“Goodgod.”Iflopbackonthebedandtossanarmovermyface,feelingmybodyvibrateasIlaughwithher.She’salwayshadthiseffectonme.Hersunshinypersonaisinfectious.SometimesIfightit,andrightnowforthelifeofme,Ican’tfigureoutwhy.
Sheclapsonehandoverhermouthandfrombehinditsays,“I’msorry.Youcan’ttrustmerightnow.”
“Okay.Morewater.Thenyoucanputwhateverfancyvoodoo-skin-shitthisisonme.”
“Waytoavoidsayingfacial.”She’ssittingonherkneesnow,lookingdownonmewhileshecarefullysipsherwater.
“Pleasedon’tspitwateronmyface,”ismyreplyasIstarebackupather,oureyeslatchingontooneanotherandnotlettinggo.Withoutthebrimofmyhat,Ifeelexposed,laidbare,butforherI‘mnotsureImindsomuch.
Peoplelookingtoocloselymakesmenervous,makesmyskinitch.ButwithSloane’seyesonme,allIfeeliswarmth.
Whenthesilenteyecontactseemslikeit’sgoneonfortoolong,Iliftthepurpletubeandreadtheinstructionswhileshepolishesofftheentirebottleofwater.Onceit’sempty,shetossesitoverhershoulder.Withasmirk,shereachesforthetubeandflipsthecapopen,squeezingwhiteclayontothetipsofherfingers.
“Itsaysyou’resupposedtowashyourfacewithwarmwaterfirst.”
Sloanerollshereyesatme.“Richcomingfromtheguywhocleanseshisfacewithbodywash.”
Andthenshe’sslatheringitontomyforehead.Downmynose.Upmycheekbones.Hereyestakeonthisslightlyfarawaylookashergentlefingersglideovertheskinofmyface.Herbrowfurrowsinconcentration,andherglacieririseseyesmovearoundeverycornerofmyfaceasshemeticulouslyspreadstheclay.Shecatchesmestaringather,andIdrophergaze,closingmyeyeslikethatmighthelp.
Except,behindtheprivacyofmyownlids,hertouchsendselectricitysparkingacrossmyskin,andthedarknesstransformsintotheimageofherbentoverthatpooltableinfrontofme.Icanstillfeelherslenderbodybeneathmine,stillfeelthewaymydicktwitchedbeforeIhadtoforcemyselfnottogrindagainsther.
Becausefriendsdon’tgrindtheircocksontheirfriend’sperfectasses.It’sjustnotdone.
Despitethatfriendrule,Ifeelthefamiliarswellingsensationallthesame,andithasmelurchingupandawayfromhertouch.“Okay.That’sgood,”Igrumble,thethickclaysubstancetinglingandtuggingonmyface.“Yourturn.”
Shenods,lookingalittlewide-eyednow.I’mnotsurewhatwentoninherheadwhilesherubbedthatintomyface,butthere’simmediatetensionbetweenusnow.Theplayfulnotesaregone.Likeinthelake.Likeoverthatfuckingpooltable.
Itakethetubeandsqueezeadollopoftheclayontomyfingertips.AsIreachtowardherface,Istareathermouthratherthanhereyes,thinkingthatwillbelessdistracting.
I’mwrong.
EverythingaboutSloaneWinthropisfuckingdistracting.AndI’vebeentryingreallydamnhardforareallylongtimenottonotice.
WhenIbrushmyfingersoverhercheekbone,shesucksinasharpbreath.Bothourgazesmovetomyhand,theonethatshakessubtlyunderthescrutiny.
Ijustswallowandforgeahead,forcingmyselftostareatmyfingersandwhereI’mspreadingtheclayratherthanherbabyblues.Ihavetobecarefulwithher.Idon’twanttogetitinherhair.Orhereyes.I’dlikemylowpointforthenighttoremainhittingherinthefacewithawaterbottle.
WhenIsmudgethematerialoverherjawandswipeitoverherchin,thetipsofmyfingersslideoverherbottomlip.Iwatchithappeninslowmotion.Chalkywhiteoverplushpink.Myfingers.Herlip.Thewayitflattensandpressestothesidewiththelightestpressure.Everythingaboutherissosoftandmalleable.
Shegaspsagain,hermouthpoppingopen,andthistimemyeyessnaptohers.They’rewideandglowing,alltheshadesofblue.Akaleidoscopeofcolors.Aprairiesky.Arobin’segg.Aglacierlake.Streaksofsomethingdarker,makingallthosepalecolorspop.
Andthatfuckinggaspisashotoflightningtomygroin.
“Youknowwhat?”Herlashesfalldownlikeacurtain,andshepullsaway,unfoldingherselffromthebed.“I’lljustfinishthismyself.Won’tmakeyoudoit.”
BeforeIcansayanything,she’sinthebathroomandthesinkisrunning.BythetimeIgetthere,she’sscrubbingatherfaceandavoidingmakingeyecontactwithme.
Sheeventuallygivesmeaflatsmilewhilecastingafurtiveglancemywaythroughthemirror,eyeslingeringonmyfacethat’scoveredinwhatlookslikedryingwhitepaint.Itclingstomystubbleandiscrackinginspots.
Itremindsmeofmyselfinaway.Afragileshell.Onelittlecrackandtheentirethingisliabletoburstopen.
“Youokay?”
“Yup,”shesaysalittletoobrightlywhiledryingherface.“JustrealizingIshouldgotobedifIdon’twanttofeelliketotalshittomorrow.”
Whensheleaves,Iletoutaheavybreathanddropmypalmsontothecounterbeforeme.
I’mnotsurewhat’sgoingonwithustoday,butwe’rebothgoingtofeelliketotalshittomorrow,regardlessofalcoholintake.
BecauseSloaneisgoingtobehungover.AndI’mgoingtobetiredfromstayingupallnightfightingoffthoughtsaboutallthefilthythingsIwanttodotoherandthosesoft,puffylips.17Sloane
Sloane:Sendhelp.
Summer:Helpwithwhat?Areyouguysokay?
Sloane:I’msohungover.Iwanttodie.
Willa:Nice.Shamespiral.Didyoubanghim?
Sloane:No.Wegaveeachotherfacialsandpassedoutawkwardly.
Willa:Highfive.IloveitwhenCadegivesmeafacial.
Summer:Goodgod.
Sloane:Thatis…notwhatImeant.
IreallynaileditwhenIsaidIwasgoingtofeelliketotalshitinthemorning.
It’slikeIhadapremonitionorsomething.Becausemyheadispounding,there’saheavyweightthatremindsmeanawfullotofshamepressingdownonmychest,andthesilenceinthetruckisfuckingdeafening.
JasperandIexchangedgoodmornings.Heaskedhowmynosewas,andIrolledmyeyesathim.He’sactinglikehehitmewithafastball,notlobbedaflimsybottleofwateratmethatsortofrolleddownmyface.
Becauseyes,Iremembereverythingaboutlastnightinexcruciatinglycleardetail.Iwasjustdrunkenoughtonotgiveafuckaboutanything,butnotdrunkenoughtoforgetit.
MosttimesIwouldsaygettinghammeredandnotblackingoutwasawin.ButI’dhavehappilyblackedlastnightout.Itwouldhavepreventedmefromrunningthattapeinmyheadonrepeat.
Theskyaboveusisdarkgray,andsnowfallsinbigfatflakes,landinginloudwetslapsagainstthewindshield.Thewindshieldwherewebothkeepourgazesfixed.
Becauseshitisawkwardthismorningandit’sprobablybecauseIwentallgreen-eyedonfansofhisandthendraggedhimbacktoourhotelroomwhereIaskedifhe’dsignmymelonsandgivemeafacial.
WhatcanIsay?Weallhaveourbreakingpoints,anditwouldseemI’vehitmine.
Iglanceoveratthespeedometer,andwe’regoingagoodchunkbelowthespeedlimit.
Youlivenearthemountainslongenough,andyouknowwhatheavysnowfalllookslikebeforeithits.Andthisisthat.
Iknowit.AndJasperknowsit.
AndIknowJasperwellenoughtoknowthatinsidehisheadrightnow,he’sagonizingoveroursafety.That’shisdefaultmode.
“YoumustthinkI’manidiot,”ishowIopenourconversation.
HisheadflipsmywaysosharplythatIwonderifithurthisneck.Hisfacesoftenswhenhiseyeslandonme,andmyheartskipsabeat.Withinsecondsthatchiseledfaceturnsbacktotheroad,knuckleswhiteonthesteeringwheel.
“Iabsolutelydonotthinkyou’reanidiot.”
“MylifeisinshamblesandI’mignoringitbychoice.AndIwasdefinitelyanidiotlastnight,”Ijoke,turningtostareoutthepassengerwindowattherocksandtreescrowdingthemountainpasssotightlyitfeelslikeIcouldopenmywindowandtouchthatdark,craggystone.Iciclesclingtothesharpedgesfromthehardfrostthathitovernight.
“No.Youdeservedtoletloose.Youwerefunny.Ineededit.Ihadfun.Wehadfun.”
“Hmm.”Ilethiswordsbouncearoundinmyhead.Wehadfun.
“I’msorryifIembarrassedyou.”
“Howcouldyouhaveembarrassedme?”Hesoundsgenuinelyconfused.
“Withthosegirls.Iwasamajorcockblocker.”
Hechucklesquietlynow.“AndIappreciatetheblocking.”
“You’rejustsayingthat.Let’snotpretendyoudon’tenjoyfemalecompany.”
Heshocksmewhenherespondsbluntly,“Ilikesex.Therestistoomuch.”
Itrytoswallowandendupchokingonmysaliva—likethewinnerIamrightnow.He’salwayssodamnquiet.Ididn’texpectthewordsextocresthislipssoeffortlessly.Letalonethepartabouthimlikingit.
Irecoverwith,“I’veseenyououtwithwomenatthosefancyawardsandstuff.Sonicetry.”
Heshrugs,andhisthickbicepsriseandfallwiththemotion.“Lookscanbedeceiving.Sometimesit’sjustafriendofafriend.Usuallyit’ssomeoneIonlyseenowandthen.WhogetswhatIwantanddoesn’taskformore.”
“Likeafuckbuddy?”Ialmostwanttosayfriendswithbenefits.Butsomehowthethoughtofhimactuallybeingfriendswithsomeotherwomanisworse.Sexissex.Friendshipthough?WithJasper,friendshipislove.
Heclearshisthroat.“Basically.”
That’ssuchafuckingJasperthingtosay.Elusiveandsecretive.
“Whateverthatmeans.”Irollmyeyesandstarebackoutatthemountains.Idon’tknowhowtohandlethisnewfoundtensionbetweenus.Before,itwasjustmeinmyhead.Nowhiseyeslingeralittletoolong,andsodoeshistouch.Fingerstwinedwithmine.Handonthesmallofmyback.
“ItmeansmeetingsomeonewhoactuallylikesmeforwhoIamandnotwhatIamfeelsdownrightimpossibleatthispointinmycareer.ItmeansIcanspendsurface-leveltimewithpeople,butitalwayscomesbacktowhatIdoforworkorhowmuchmoneyImakeorhowfamousIam.ItmeansIcanneverjustmeetapersonwithoutthatnotorietyhoveringoverme,andthatmeansIquestioneverythingandeveryone.”
MytongueswipesovermybottomlipandmychesttightensasIunraveleverythinghejustadmitted.
“EvenmymompopsupwhenI’minthenewsorifsheseesmeonTV.”
Istill.Jaspernevertalksabouthisparents.
“Shedoes?”Myvoiceissmall,andIregardhimcarefully.
“Always.”
“Justto…sayhi?”
Hescoffs,andonecornerofhislipstipup.Butit’snotinamusement.It’smoreofawrytwist,acoverforadeephurt.“No,Sunny.Formoney.”
“I’msorry.Doyouknowwheresheis?”It’snotenough.It’snotnearlyenough.ButIdon’tknowwhatelsetosaytohim.I’moutofmydepthwithhisaccidentandeverythingthatcameinitswake.
Itstrikesmeasunfairthatsomanyterriblethingscanhappentooneperson.Thatonehumancandefytheoddssothoroughly.Thattheuniversecouldn’thavesprinkledalittleofJasper’spainovermorepeopletomakehisburdenjustalittlebitlighter.
Hissister.
Hismom.
Hisdad.
NowBeau.
It’scruel,anditmakesmyheartacheforhim—italwayshas.ThosesadfuckingeyesonthatfirstsummerdaythatIdrownedinthem.Adarkblueabyss.SometimesIfeellikeIsanktothebottomofthatdeepoceanandjusttookupresidence.
IgotlostinJasper’seyesandneverleft.
“Shecomesandgoes.Youknowhowsheis.InthewakeofJenny’sdeath,shestartedself-medicating.Andwithinayear,shewasanotherperson,livinganotherlife.Onethattookherfromflophousetoflophouse.Fromprisontorehab.To…Idon’tevenknowanymore.”Hepauses,andallIcanthinkisshebecameapersonwhobrokehersonmorethoroughlythanhealreadywas.“It’smyfault.”
Hiswordsstrikeaheavyblow.
I’velivedsuchaprettyandprivilegedlife,onetiedupwithashinysatinbow.I’veneverevenbeenhit.Neverlostafamilymember.Neverexperiencedphysicalpainthatwasn’tmydoing.Sure,myparentshavetheirquirks,butthey’veneversetouttohurtme,orcaredsolittleaboutmetheywoulddosomethingthatmightcausemepain.
ButIimaginethisishowitfeels.
“Itisnotyourfault.”
“Itis.AndIsendherthemoneytoatoneforthat.”
Aquiet,groaningsoundachesinmythroat.Nausearoilsinmystomach,andIcan’tbesureifit’sthehangoverorthetopicofconversation.“Youhavenothingtoatonefor.”
“Id—”
“No,”Isnapathim,clappingmyhandsfirmlytocuthimoff.“Nothing.Nothingatall.I’vetoldyoubeforeandI’llkeeptellingyouuntilthedayIdie.Youwereachild,shewasachild,anditwasanaccident.”
Hisbreathingsoundsheavy,almostlabored,aswebothstareoutthefrontwindow.
“IstillrememberthenightItoldyouwhathappened.Irememberyoucrying,whichwasevenworsethansayingitalloutloud.Watchingyoucry…soyoungandna?ve…”
Idid.Isobbed.Ibrokeforhim,wantingtotakesomeofhispainandmakeitmyown.Iftheuniversewouldn’thelphimsharetheburden,IdecidedthatIwoulddoitonmyown.
Thatnight,withonlythemoonashiswitness,adevastatedboydivulgedhisdeepest,darkestsecretstothemostinconsequentialpersonhecouldfind.Agirlwhoneverlookedathimwithpity,onlyadoration.
Andheshreddedhisheartforher.Leftallthejagged,tornpiecesatherfeet.
AndIbecamethekeeperofthosepieces.Ididn’tbalkattherawnessofthemoment.Idon’tthinkIevenreallyunderstoodit,butIpickedupeverylittlescrapandstowedthemallawayinmyheartforsafekeeping.
WithtimeImadesenseofhisstory.Imulleditover.Ibecameapartofit,insertedmyselfsomehow.Andthosepiecesbecameseeds.SeedsthatIwateredandtendedtoandkeptsafeforhim.
ButseedsgrowandnowtherootsofhimandthatnightarewrappedsotightlyaroundmyheartthatI’llneverbeabletoextricatemyselffromJasperGervais.
Thereisn’tasoulintheworldwhocanremovethoserootsandthestrangleholdtheyhaveonme.
“IlearnedwithmyparentsthatnomatterhowfiercelyIlovesomeoneitisn’tenoughtomakethemstay.Butyou?Itoldyoueverydirtylittledetailandyoucouldhavehatedme.Butyoustayed.Youdanced.”
“Icouldneverhateyou,Jas.”Tearsprickatmyeyes.IdidtheonlythingIknewhowtodo.Underthelightofthemoon,inafieldoflushgreengrass,Igotupandletthemovementsflowthroughmybody.Theclassicaltuneplayedinmyhead.Theonlyrealmusicwasthehushofasuffocatinglywarmsummernightontheprairies.
AndtheonlypersonintheaudiencewasabeautifulboywithhauntedeyeswhowatchedmyeverymovementandtoldmeitwasbeautifulwhenIfinished.Thenheleft.AndIcouldonlyhopethathe’dsleep.Thathefeltalittlelighter.
HemighthavebeenanabandonedteenagerandImighthavebeensomena?ve,littlekid,butthatnightwewerejusttwosoulswithonesecret.Andafterthat,unlikelyfriends.
“I’msurprisedyoudidn’tlaughwhenItoldyou.”Hechucklesdarkly.
Iturnandpunchhisarm,feelingalittleirritatedwithhimforstillbeingsogoddamnhardonhimself.“Shutup.”
“Whatareyougonnadoaboutit?”
“Probablythrowawaterbottleatyourface.”
Arelievedlaughescapeshim,andIwatchhishandstwistonthesteeringwheel,eyesstillfixedontheroad.“Ididn’tthrowitatyourface.Notmyfaultyourhand-eyecoordinationistrash.”
“Tellmynosethat.”Irubitdramatically,eventhoughitdoesn’thurtatall.
“Thehugenewbumponitsuitsyou.Addssomecharactertothatotherwiseperfectface.”
He’stryingtodivertbackintoplayful,friendlybanter.Thekindwedosowell.Thetypethatcroppedupbetweenusonceeverythingwasoutonthetable.Afterthatnight,IneverhesitatedtotellJasperanything.Ofcourse,aswegotolder,thingschanged,butwehadthisfoundationofrawhonestyIcouldalwaysfallbackon.
Itrusthim,andIthinkhetrustsme.Idon’tknowwhyhetrustedmethatnight.Perhaps,hejustneededtounload,andIwasthepuppy-love-riddledgirlwhowasalreadyupwatchinghim,whojust“happened”tobeoutforawalk.
Eitherway,itconnectedus.Forlife,itwouldseem.BecauseIdon’tthinkhe’stoldanothersoultheentiredetailsofthatday.Thatheheldhishandupinthatsignal.Thathisfamilyfelltoshamblesinthewakeofit.Thathefeelsresponsible.ThatBeaufoundhimlivinginacarinafieldbehindtheschoolbecausehismomwasmissingandhisshitheaddadhadstartedafreshlifeandfailedtokeepcominghomeforhimatall.
Thementionofperfectfacebringsahushbackthroughthecab,andwithallthequiet,mymindwanders.
MycuriositygetsthebestofmewhenIask,“Youhearfromhimatall?”
HeknowsImeanhisdadwithoutevensayingit.Harveyhasfilledthatvoidforhimthebesthecan,butthere’snogettingoveraparentwholeavesyoubychoice.Aparentwhoblamesyoufortheworstdayofyourlife.
Heclearshisthroat,glancingatmefromunderthebrimofhiscap.“No.”
Inod,tampingdowntheragethathisbiologicaldadalwaysstirsupinme.
“Idrovethereonce,youknow.Justtosee.Parkedonthestreetandwatchedhishouseforanentireday.Hiswife.Hiskids.Afuckingcat.Ialwayswantedacat,andhewouldn’tletmegetone.”
“Didheseeyou?”
“Eventually.”
“Whatdidhesay?”
Histhroatworksintandemwithhishandsonthewheel,andheshrugs.
“Icouldkillhim,”Imutter,rubbingmyhandovermylipsasthoughIcanpressbackinthewordsIwanttospewaboutthis“man”whoabandonedhisonlysurvivingchildtostartfreshwithouthim.Grieftwistsusallinunusualways,andIwishIcouldbringmyselftobemoreforgivingconsideringwhathewentthrough.
ButIjustcan’t.AllIseeisJasperandwhatitdidtohim.
Iknowmydadcanbeadomineeringdick,buthecaresaboutmeinhisownway
Jasperchucklessadly.“That’sthething,Sunny.Hesaidnothingatall.Hesawme.Wemadeeyecontact.Andhejustclosedthedoorandflickedofftheporchlight.Wenttobed.”
“I’msorry.”MyvoicecrackswhenIoffertheapology,andIreachouttowrapmyfingersaroundhisshoulder,fingertipsdustingthecurlsthattracethebackofhisneck.
Heinclineshisheadtowardme,andthepadsofmyfingersraspovertheboneatthetopofhisspine.Irubaslowcirclethereandfeelhisbodyrelaxundermytouch.
Itstrikesmeagainthatitisn’tenoughtohealhiswounds.Butit’swhatI’vegot.
Icanbeapersonwhoreallyknowswhoheisratherthanwhatheis.Icanlisten.
Whenhetalks,I’llalwayslisten.
“Shithappenstothebestofus,Sunny,andIamnotthebestofus.”
“Tomeyouare,”iswhatItellhim.
Myeyescatchonthediamondthatsitsonmyfinger,andIrecoilatthesight.Ineedtotakeitoff,butI’mstalling.AndnotbecauseImissSterling.
It’sbecauseIworrythatifItakethisringoff,I’lldosomethingstupidanddesperatewhereJasperisconcerned.It’slikeamentalseatbeltformeatthispoint—oneofthefewthingskeepingmesafefrommyselfandanimpulsivedecision.
ButIreachout,takehisnearesthandoffthewheel,andlinkmyfingerstightlywithhisoverthecenterconsole.
Andtheringdoesn’tstopme.18Sloane
Dad:Sloane,it’stimeforyoutoanswermycalls.Iraisedyoubetterthanthis.Iknowyoucanbehighlyemotional,butthisistoofar.PullyourselftogetherandbehavelikeaWinthrop.
Harvey:Howareyoukidsholdingup?
Sloane:Good.SpentthenightinRoseHill.ShouldbeinRubyCreekthisafternoon.Willkeepyouposted.
Harvey:How’smyboy?
Sloane:Good.Fine.
Harvey:Andhowareyou?
Sloane:Hungover.
Harvey:Hedrivingyoutodrink?
Sloane:Prettymuch.
Iturnmyheadbackoutthewindowaswecrestthetopofthemountainpass.Visibilityhasgottenworse.Icanseetheredtaillightsofthefewvehiclesaroundusandfeelthetruckstrainingtochugitswayupthesteepincline.Inthesidemirror,Icanseethebigroundbalesstrappedtotheflatbed,twolayersfittogetherlikepuzzlepiecesandcoveredwithtied-downtarpstokeepthemfromgettingwet.
Myearspopaswehitthetopaltitudeandstartourdescent,thefrontendofthetruckpointingdownwardsuddenly.AsoftgruntcomesfromJasper,andIturntolookathim.Histhickbrowsarefurrowedasheglancesbetweenthedashandtheroad.
“Turnthemusicdown,Sloane.”
It’salreadyquiet,butIdoitanywaybecausethetoneofhisvoicejarring.There’sanoteofanxiety,anoteofauthority,thathasmyhairstandingonend.
We’repickingupspeednow,andwhenIshifttopeekatthespeedometer,itcreepsupincrementallysecondbysecond.Ahazardlightglowsredjustbesideit.
“Jas,”Ibreatheout.“What’swrong?”Mychestistight,andwithoutevenknowingwhat’sgoingon,myrighthandreachesuptograbtheroofhandle.
“You’rebuckledin,right,Sunny?”Jasperbitesout,notoncelookingmyway.
Myeyesdroptobothofourseatbelts.“Yes,”fearbleedsintomyvoice.
“Sloane.Relax.I’mgoingtokeepyousafe,okay?Tellmeyouunderstandthat.”
I’mnoddingrapidlyathim,butnowordsspringfrommylips.They’reclampedshuttootightly.
“Talktome,Sunny.Whofoundyouthatnightwhenyougotlostinthewoodsplayingcapturetheflag?”
We’rejustgoingfasterandfaster.
“Youdid.”
“Whobandagedyourfeet?”
“You,”Iwhimper,watchingthespeedometercreepup.
“Whobrokeyououtofthatfuckingshamofawedding?”hegrowls,tonedropping,likethisisthetimetobemadaboutthat.Whenwe’rebothabouttodie.
“You,Jas.You.Alwaysyou.”MyhandgripsthefrontoftheseatsohardIfeellikeImightriptheleather.
“Thebrakesthatconnecttothetraileraremalfunctioning.Icanonlyslowusdownsomuch.”
Igasp.ButJasperisstoic.Palebutstoic.Eyesfixedontheroad.
Helayshardonthehornwhenwecomeuptoofastbehindacar,urgingthemtomoveover.Aharshbreathescapeshimwhentheysignalandswitchlanes.
“There’sarunawaylaneupaheadthatI’mgoingtouse,butit’sgoingtobebumpy.Iwantyoutohangonashardasyoucanandjustbreathe—trustme.You’rebrave.You’vegotthis.”Ican’ttellifhe’stalkingtomeorhimself.“Yougotthat?Doyoutrustme?”Hisvoiceisloudnow,sharp,sounlikethesoft,mumbledtonesI’musedtofromhim.
“Yes,ofcourse.Itrustyou.”
Helooksmywayquicklyandnods.
Thenextfewmomentspassintheheaviestsilenceofwhiteknucklesandheldbreath.There’sanalmostetherealqualitytothemoment.LikeI’mwatchingaslow-motionvideoofuscruisingtoourdeaths.
Whenthelaneappearsthroughtheheavysnowfall,juttingsharplyupthesideofthemountain,Ibitedownontheinsideofmycheek.
It’ssosteep.
Iknowthat’sthepoint,butitdoesn’tstoptheabjectterrorfrombloominginmychest.
Myeyesclampshutwhenweramintothegravelroadway.TheimpactjoltsthetruckandjostlesmybodyasJaspermaneuversustosafety.OratleastIhopehedoes.Ican’tlook,butIhaven’tfeltusfliporcrash,sothat’sawin.
Withinsecondswearen’tmovinganymore.Thetruckstopsonthesharpincline,andwithonesteadyhand,Jasperjamstheemergencybrakeintoplacebeforewrappingitbackaroundthewheelinadeathgrip.
Theentireepisodelastedmeremoments,butitfeltlikehours.Myentirebodyisvibrating,mychestthumpingsohardwiththeheavybeatofmyheartthatitfeelslikeitactuallyrattlesmyvision.
“JesusfuckingChrist.Holyshit.Youokay?”Iwhisper-shoutallmyfavoritebadwords,lettinggoofthehandleandlayingashakinghandflatonmychest
Afterafewseconds,noresponsecomes,soIturntopeeratJasper.Hishandsaresqueezedtight,andhisentirebodylooksmadeofstone.He’sastatue,sostillIcanbarelyseehimbreathe.
“Jasper?”
Hisstrongnoseispointedstraightforward,andhisskinisthecolorofcrisp,whiteprinterpaper,likeallthebloodhaslefthisbody.
“Jas.”Itouchhimtentativelyandsqueezehisshoulder,buthedoesn’trespond.SuddenlyI’mlessscaredaboutoursituationandmorescaredforhim.“You’refreakingmeout.”
Hisjawflexesandheswallows,buthiseyesstaytrainedoutthewindshield,thewindhowlingasthetall,darkpinesswayandwhitesnowswirlsaroundus.
He’sinshock,thatmuchIcangather.AndwhileI’mnopsychologist,Iimaginethiseventwasalittletooclosetothedaywewerejusttalkingabout.
Thedayitallfellapart.
Becausethemanbesidemelookstraumatized.
Withoutthinking,Iunbucklemyselfandmakeafewquickmoves.Ipryhishandfromthewheelandcrawlontohislap,straddlinghislegsandtryingtogethimtolookatmeratherthanatthewindshieldlikehe’sfrozenintime—anothertime.
Myhandsflattenonhisshoulders,andIgivehimalittleshake.“Jasper.Lookatme.”
Hiseyesdon’tmove,andpanicnipsatallmyedges.Igentlyremovehishat,tossingitontothepassengerseat.It’stoohardtoseehimfrombeneaththebrim,anddeepdown,Iknowthat’sthewholepointofwhyhealwayswearsit.
He’sconstantlytryingtoblendintothebackground,butevenwhenhe’shiding,Iseehim.
Islidemypalmsoverthetopsofhisshouldersandupthesidesofhissturdyneckuntilmyfingersweavethemselvesintothehairatthebackofhisskull.Spearmintandeucalyptus.Thescentbowlsmeovereverytime.It’sashotofelectricitytomysenses.Irealizethatifhe’swashinghisfacewiththatbodywashheprobablyusesitasshampootoo.
Thetipsofmyfingersmoveoftheirownaccord,massagingthebaseofhisskull.AmItakingfreedomsImightnotusually?Definitely.Butdesperatetimescallfordesperatemeasures,andthiswholepetrified-wood-on-the-side-of-a-mountainacthasgotmestressed.
Ipressmyforeheadagainsthis,tryingtoforcehislineofsightuptomyown.“Jas.I’mrighthere.Youkeptussafe.Everythingisokay.Youdidsogood.Thankyouforalwayslookingoutforme.”
Heblinksonce,andit’slikehepullsawayalayerofdarkshadowthatcoveredhisirises.Wheretheyborderedonblackjustmomentsago,they’rebacktothesoftnavyIknowsowell—softlikevelvet,high-lightedwithstreaksofdenim,andlittlesparksofbrightnesswherethelightreflects.
“Sloane.”Hesighsandwarmbreathhitsmythroat.Hedoesn’tmovehisforehead,buthedoesmovehishands.TheyshapemywaistandIfeelthemtremble.
AllIdoiscontinuetorubatthebackofhishead,soothinghimintheonlywayIknowhow.
“Areyouokay?”Hisvoiceisgrittyandwaversslightlyonokay.
Inod,rollingmyforeheadagainsthis.“I’mgood.I’mallgood.”
Hepullsback,andasifhedoesn’tbelieveme,hishandstakeinventoryofmybody.Theyroamdown,squeezingatmyhipbonesthroughmythinleggings.Theyslideoverthetopsofmythighs,andhewatchesraptly,likeheneedstoseeitandfeelittobelieveit.
Metellinghimisn’tenough.
Hisbreathingturnsragged,andthetremorsthatstartedinhisfingerstakeoverhisarmsaswell.Whenhelooksintomyeyes,Inodmyhead,tryingtoreassurehim.Butitdoesn’tstophim.Hisfingersstartbackupmylegsandhishandssplayonmyback,bigenoughthattheycoveritentirely.
“Nothinghurts?”
“Nothinghurts,”Iconfirm,stayingdeathlystill,notwantingtobreakwhatevermomentthisisrightnow.
HeneedsthisandsodoI.Butintwoverydifferentways.
Whentheheatofhistouchroundsovermyshoulders,Igiveintomybodyandletmylashesfluttershutforonebriefmoment.Ibaskinhisgentlehands,glidingupmyarmsinunison,checkingeveryspotlikeI’mthemostpreciousglassdoll.
“You’resafe.”I’mnotsureifhesaysittomeortohimself.
ButIaffirmitanyway.“I’msafe.”
Whenhegetstomywriststhatsitoneithersideofhisneck,hegripsthemandfindsmygazeagain.Hebreathesinforfourseconds.Andoutforfourseconds.
Andwejustexistineachother’seyes.
Locked.Loaded.
“Areyousureyournosedoesn’thurt?”Heasksaboutmynose,buthe’slookingatmylips.MytonguedartsoverthemasItrytocalmmyriotingnerves.Thismomentfeelsintenselyintimate.
I’vehadalifetimeofintimatemomentswithJasper,butnonehavefeltlikethiswiththeairaroundusthick,heavy,andhot.
Pushingustogethersomehow.
Hisfingerdustsdownthebridgeofmynose.It’sbarelyatouch.It’sawhisper.“Doesithurt,Sloane?”
Iwatchhislipspresstogetherandcomeaparttoformthewords.Andgod,Iwanttokisshim.Iwanthimtokissme.Iwantthismomenttoneverend.IwantPowerlesstoliveinthistruck,inthesnow,atthetopofamountainwithhimandneverleave.
Mylashesflutter,andItipmychindownincrementallytokeepourlipsfrombeinglinedup,tokeepmyselffromdoingsomethingthatwillembarrassme—orworse,ruinus.
We’resodamnclose.Closeenoughthathe…pressesasoftkisstothetipofmynoseandstealsmybreathintheprocess.
Myeyessnaptohis.Wide.Shocked.
“I’msorryIthrewthatatyou.”
AllIcanmanageisanod.Mymouthisdry.Ihearringinginmyears.Myeyesaresuckedintohismidnightsky.
Heleansforwardagainandkissesmyforehead.MyfingersgriphishairandImoveincloser.ItiltmyheadasthoughIcouldnuzzleintohim,asthoughIcouldcrawlintohimandcurlupinhischest.IwanthimtobeasconnectedtomeasIamtohim.
Heinclineshishead,eyessearching.Asilentquestion.
AndInodmyresponse.
Thenhislipsareonmycheek.Hishandslidesaroundtothebackofmyhead,andhecupsmyskull.
We’resoclose.Solatchedontooneanother.Likeneitherofuswantstheothertopullaway.
Jasperdragshislipsalongthetopofmycheekbone,hisstubbleraspingovermyskin,dottingitintinyfiresthatIneverwanttoputout.
Hekissesthecornerofmyjawandwhenthetipofhistongueflicksout,Imoan.Shamelessly.Desperately.
Hetugsmecloser.Hisstrongarmwrapsaroundmywaist,andheclampsmetohim.
“Jasper,”Iwhisper.
Inresponsehefistsmyhairandtugsmyheadtotheside,dragginghishotmouthdownandthenbackupmyneck.Isqueezemylegstighteronhim,hearingonlythepoundingofmyheartinmyearsandthedeepgroaningsoundthatvibratesfromhischest.
“Ican’teverloseyou,”hegrowls.
“Youwon’t,”Ireplyquietly,rightasthetipofhisnosetracestheshellofmyear.
“Imight.”
“Nev—”
BeforeIcansaynever,hecutsmeoffwith,“BecauseIthinkI’mabouttofuckeverythingupbetweenus.”
Andthenhekissesme.
Hislipsmoldtomineandhisfingersweaveintomyhairashisgripturnssoft.
Igostillwithshock—utterdisbelief—andwhenIdo,hestops,pullingawayashiswarmpalmslidesdownovermythroattolookmeintheeye.
“I’msor—”
Icuthimoffbylaunchingmyselfbackathim.Andhedoesn’tmissafuckingbeat.
Hedoesn’tkissmelikeafriend.Hekissesmebackwithequalfervor.Hekissesmelikehewantstoconsumeme.
Andhedoes.
Hishandsarehotbrandsonmybody,touchingandsqueezinginplacesI’llneverforget.Hislipsarewarmandfirm.He’sgentlebuthecommandsme.Hetiltsmyheadthewayhewantsit.Hesetsthepaceforourlanguidkissesuntilhetakesonamoredemandingpace.
Untilhistongueslidesintomymouthandhisteethnipatmybottomlip.
Andme?Iturntoputtyinhisarms.I’vebeenlosttohimforyears,buttodayinaquiettruck,inthemiddleofasnowstorm,Iletmyselfgetlostinhim.
HetakesandIgive.
Itakeandhegives.
Irollmyhipsagainsthisandhegroansout,“Sloane.”
Thehandinmyhairtightens,andIfeelthedullburnofhimtuggingagainstmyscalp.Hisoppositehandmoveslazilydownmyribcage,comingtorestatmyhip,longfingerssplayedcasuallyoverthecurveofmyass,histhumbrubbingagainsttheoutlineofmythong.
Everythingisslow.Achinglyslow.Sorepresentativeofusinsomanyways.Butthere’salsoanedgeofdesperationinusboth.
Ahardbitetoeverymovement.
Mynipplespebble.Myheartpounds.Mybodyisalight.Myhipsrollagain.
Thistimethehardlengthofhimpressesback.Iwhimper,arousedandrelievedallatonce.I’vespentyearsthinkingJasperGervaiscouldn’twantme,butrightnowhisbodytellsanotherstory.
Andsodohiswords.
“Sunny,you’regonnamakemelosemymind.”
“Good,”Imurmuragainsthismouth.“We’llbeinsanetogether.I’msotiredofdoingitalone.”
I’mreadytotearhisclothesoffandimpalemyselfonhim,hereandnow.I’mcrazed.IfeelmoredrunkthanIdidlastnight.
Ikisshimagain,pouringallthefrustrationandlongingintohim.Andhegivesitbacktenfold.Hebowlsmeoverandstealstheairrightfrommylungs.
Andthenhepullsmeaway.Withonehandtightinmyhair,heanglesmyheaduptohimandpeersdownatme.Hiseyesflitaroundeverycornerofmyfaceasheassessesme.
HereadsmelikeafuckingbookandthentellsmesomethingI’velongedtohear.
“You’renotalone.I’mrighttherewithyou.”
Iletoutabreathsobigthatmybodysagswhenitleavesme.
“Butthisisn’tthetimeorplace.It’snotsafe.Andyouaretoofuckingprecioustotakechanceswith.”
Fuckmysafety.IfIdiedridingJasperGervaisinthedriver’sseatofthistruck,Imightbefinewiththat.Whatawaytogo.Outwithabang,sotospeak.
“Whenisthetimeandplace?”Ibreatheoutinstead.
Heghostsakissovermydamp,puffylipsandguidesmyeartohismouth.“WhenIsayso,”herasps.
Ashiverwracksmyentirebody.WhenIpullback,hiseyesaredarkagainandtheylandonmylips,thenmybreasts,beforeroamingbackuptomyface.
Hecupsmyheadsoftly.“I’llberightback.IneedtocheckthebrakeattachmentsoIcangetusbackdownthishill.Buckleup,justincase.”
Inodandheliftsme,depositingmeinthepassengerseateffortlessly.
He’soutthedoorandintotheblowingsnowwithoutanotherword.
AndIsithere,dumbstruck,hopinghe’sokay.Andtakinganinventoryofallthethingsitdidtomybodywhenhesaid,“WhenIsayso.”19Jasper
Jasper:Badroads.Brakeissues.SpendingthenightinatowncalledBlisswaterSprings.
Harvey:Doyouwinaprizeforusingasfewwordsaspossible?Youguysokay?Canyouelaborate?
Jasper:I’llcallyoufromthehotel.We’reallgood.Safe.Youdon’tneedtoworry.
Harvey:Comeon.Givemesomething.Onebedortwo?
Jasper:Talktoyoulater.
Thetipsofmyfingersaretinglingasintenselyastherestofmybody.Sloaneissilentandintrospectivebesideme.WhenIgotbackintothetruck,shestaredatmewithcomicallywideeyes,pressingherlipstogethereithertohideasmileortokeepfromsayingsomething.
We’resafelybackonthehighway.Thewiringisfirmlyinplacewiththeconnector,andI’mfindingiteasiertobreathe—unlessIthinktoohardaboutSloanewrithinginmylap,herassgrindingagainstmycock.
I’mstillstoppingattheclosestmechanictohavethebrakeconnectorcheckedbecausethatshouldn’thavecomelooseatall.AccordingtoGoogle,thatmeanswe’respendingsometimeinatowncalledBlisswaterSprings.
“Arewejustnotgoingtotalkanymore?”Sloaneblurts,cuttingthesilence.“LikeIknowyou’regenerallynotabigtalker.Butcanwenotbeawkwardaboutthe…”Herhandflapsaroundinfrontofher.
“Aboutthekiss?”
“Yeah.Itwasastressfulmoment.Amomentofinsanity.Wecanbecoolaboutit.”
I’vethoughtaboutkissingSloaneforalongtimenow,whetherornotI’vewantedtoadmitittomyself.
Infact,shealmosttookthelastnameWoodcockfortherestofherlifebecauseI’vespentsolongthinkingratherthandoinganythingaboutit.
ThismightnotbetheperfectmomentformetofigureoutmyshitwhereSloaneWinthropisconcerned,butitisamoment.AndifI’vefiguredoutanythinginthisShakespeareantragedyofalife,it’sthatlifeisjustmomentsallstrungtogetherlikemulticolorChristmaslights.Youalwaysenduplikingsomecolorsbetterthanothers.
Joyful,tragic,peaceful,funny.Unforgettablemoments,andmomentswewishwecouldforget.
AndkissingSloaneinthistruckisnotoneofthose.It’samomentIfullyintendtohangonto.Inthepast,Iwastoldtostayawayfromher.Inthepast,Icaredaboutthatwarning.
Inthismomentthough?Idon’tgiveafuck.
“Itwasn’tamomentofinsanity,”Isaymatter-of-factly.
“Sorry?”Shesoundsincredulous.
“Idefinitelymeanttokissyou.”
Shescoffs,crossingherarmsandturningbeetred.“Youwerebarelyresponsivemeresecondsbeforehand.Youwereinshock,soyou’llforgivemeifIdon’tbelieveyou.”
“Idon’tneedyoutobelievemeforittobetrue.”
Idon’tknowwhyafteryearsofkeepingmymouthshut,I’mnowblurtingthisallout.Mostlikely,it’sbecauseIsawourlivesflashbeforemyeyesbackthere.WhenIlookedoveratSloanebesidemeandsawherbeautifulblueeyesclampedshut,fingersgrippingtheseat,shouldersscruncheduptoherears,Irealizeditcouldbemylastmomentwithher.
Mylastmomentandshewouldneverknowwhatsheistome.Howmuchsheistome.Thatshe’sitforme.Andthat’sjustfuckinginsane.Likeawaste.Likeforamanwhoknowslosssointimately,whywouldIeversetmyselfuptolosesomethingsoprecious?
Ithinkthat’stherealizationthathitmeatthedinnerwhereIwatchedSloanesitbesideamanwhotalkedoverhereverychancehegot.Shewasabouttomarryapieceofhumanchauvinistgarbage,butshecouldhavehadme—ifshewantedme.
IfI’djusttoldher.
Andshedidn’tknowbecauseIwastoostuckinmyownmyheadtotellher.TooparalyzedbymyfearoflosingpeopleIcareabout.Oflosingher.
Butfuck,losingsomeoneandhavingthemnotknowthatyoucareaboutthem?Wishingyoucouldgobackandtellthem?
That’saspecialhell.OneIhavenointentionoflivinginbecauseI’vegivenmydemonsenoughofmyselfalready—theycan’thavehertoo.
“Ijustalmostmarriedsomeoneelse.”
Inodbrusquely,glancingoverather.Shelookspissed,whichisnotthereactionIexpected.Butthen,soamI.Becausethemerementionofhermarryingsomeonesendsmeintoahot,simmeringragesounlikemeIdon’tevenknowwhattodowithit.
“Yeah.Thatwouldhavebeenashamebecausehereallyfuckingsucks.”
“Ha!Un-fucking-believable.”Herjawpops,andshestaresoutthepassengerwindow.“I’veknownyouforwhat?Eighteenyears?Almosthalfyourlife?Andthis…thisfeelingisjustoccurringtoyounow?”
Ahumorlesslaughbubblesupoutofherandsheshakesherhead.“Someoneelsecametoplayinyoursandboxandyougotallterritorialafteryearsofnotgivingmeasecondlook?Lovethatforme.I’mnotafirehydrantforyoutopisson,Jasper.”Herhandsshootupbesideherhead.“Like…I’msupposedtobuythatyou’vejusthadsomesortofawakeningandyourchildhoodfriendissuddenlyhellakissablethesedays?God.That’shilarious.IfIdidn’tlikeyousomuch,I’dkickyouintheballsforthis.”
Ishouldbeworried,butallIcanthinkistheresheis.Thefirecrackergirl.Theprimaballerinawhotrainsherassoffanddrinkscheapbeerlikeit’sfinewine.
Itellherthetruth,eyesontheroad.“It’snotjustoccurringtomenow.”
Sherollshereyes,shimmyinghershouldersuptaller,asifstraighteninginherseatmightmakeherfeellessvulnerable.
“It’strue.”IwishtheroadswerebettersoIcouldgivehermyfullattentionandlookherintheeye.Wipethatpetulantexpressionoffherfaceandkissheragain.Makeherbelieveme.BecauseIknowIhaven’tbeenimaginingthesemomentsbetweenus.TheoneswheretheairgrowssoheavythatitfeelslikemorethanIcanbear.
“Idon’tbelieveyou,”sherepeats,butthistimehervoiceisalittlehoarse.
“Youkissedmeback,”IsayrightasI’mhitwiththesickeningthoughtthatmaybeI’mouttolunch.Maybethisisallveryone-sidedandI’vegonehorriblyofftrack.Afterall,myexperiencewithwomeninanycapacitybeyondsexisnonexistent.
ExceptforSunny.She’sthegirlItelleverything.Thegirlwhowasalwaysthereonmyworstdaysanddarkestnights.NotbecauseIaskedhertobe,butjustbecausethat’swhatwearetoeachother.
Itdoesn’tmatterhowmanyyearshavepassed.We’llalwaysbethattoeachother.
“Noshit.”She’scrossedherarmsoverherribsagain,andmyeyestrailoverthewayitpropsherbreastsup.Thetingleinmyfingersisnowanitchtoexploreeveryinchofherbody,toshowherallthewaysIwanther.
Fuck,Iwanther.
Sloaneissoothing.She’stheeyeofthestorm.TrueNorth.Somehowourcompassesalwaysbringusbacktoeachother.
WhenwestopatthefirstredlightinBlisswaterSprings,Iturninmyseatandask,“What’sthatsupposedtomean,Sloane?Iwasthere.FeltyourthighsgoalltightonmewhenItuggedyourhair.HeardyoumoanwhenIkissedyou.Arewegoingtosithereandkeeppretendingthatthingsdon’tfeeldifferentbetweenusnow?”
“They’vealwaysfeltthiswayforme!”sheexplodes,armsflungwide,eyesshiningwithemotion.“Andyou’venevernoticed.Butnowyoudo?WhatamIsupposedtodo?Jumpforjoyandsaythankyouforblessingmewithyourinterest?”
Ipale,handsgoingclammyonthewheel.Irespondinastreamofconsciousness,tryingtoexplainmyselfinthewakeofwhatshe’sjustsaid.“Imean…weallknewyouhadachildhoodcrush.Iwasateenager.Butyouwerejustakid.Andthenyououtgrewit.Youhadboyfriendsandballet.Ihadhockeyandendlesstraining.Webecamefriendsinthecity.Yougotengaged.”
Herpalepinklipspartlikeshe’sabouttosaysomething,butquicklypressbacktogether.Sheturnsbacktothewindshield,eyesforcedaheadsoharditalmostlookspainful.ThesecondsstretchoutandI’mcertainshe’snotgoingtorespondtome.Andshit,that’swhatIdeserveforeverythingIjustdumpedonher.
Butrightasthelightturnsgreen,hersadvoicehitsmelikeapunchtothefuckinggut.
“Ineveroutgrewit,Jas.”
WhenIkissedher,Icountedtofourinmyhead.ItoldmyselfI’dgiveitfourseconds,butshetookmore.
Itwasamomentofinsanity.
OrmaybeeverymomentwhereItriedtodenywhatIwasfeelingforherhavebeenmomentsofinsanityallstrungtogether.Lightsofallonecolor.
Doesregrethaveacolor?
“Checkagain,”Sloanesaystothewomanbehindthefrontdeskatthesmallresort-stylehotel.“Therehastobesomething.”
ListeningtoSloaneexplainthatweneedseparateroomsfeelslikeherownmomentofinsanity.ButI’llletherhaveit.
BecauseIknowSloane.Iknowhowsheprocessesthings.
WhatIdidn’tknowisherchildhoodcrushneverleft.Ishouldfeelbadfornevernoticing.Ishouldfeellikeanidiot.ButIfeel…relieved.
Iseeachance.Aglimmerofhope.
“Somethingwithtwobedsatleast?Howaboutarollawaycot?I’malmostchildsized.”Shegesturesdownatherself.
Istifleachuckleandlookoutthewindowtowardtheparkinglot,wheresnowisstillfallingheavily.
“Wecanhavehaveacotsentup,ofcourse.”Thewomanatthedesksmilespatiently,eyesbouncingbetweenuscuriouslylikeshecan’tquitefigureoutwhat’sgoingon.
“Thatwillbefine,”Sloaneforcesout,apracticedsmileonherface.Coolmaskperfectlyinplace.Herbunispulleduptightthewayshelikesitwhenshe’sreadyforaperformance—orforbattle.
That’swhatsheresortedtodoinginthetruck.Shetuggeddownthevisorandusedthemirrortoobsessivelypullherhairback.Itwasneverflatenough,orsmoothenough,soshe’dpullitoutanddoitalloveragain.
Shediditfivetimes.IknowbecauseIcounted.Therewasn’tmuchelsetodoonceshesettledintoignoringme.Iwasalsostrugglingtopeelmyeyesawayfromherafterhercrushrevelation.
Thiswomanhasbeenmyfriendforeighteenyears.
HowdidImissit?
EithershegotgoodathidingitorIwasn’tlooking.Itwasprobablyacombinationofboth.
Defiantstrayblondehairscatchthelightinthedatedhotellobby.Ialmostwanttopointthemoutjusttorileherup.
Becausewhenshe’sriled,thetruthcomesout.
“Thankyouforyourhelp,”shetellsthewomanassheturnstome,holdinguptotwokeycards.Thesmileonherfacehasmovedfromforcedtokindofinsanelooking.“Let’sgo,”shesingsongsalittletooloudlybeforestormingaway,clearlyexpectingI’llfollow.
Withinafewstrides,I’mstandingrightbesideher,staringattheelevatordoor.
“Fourthfloor,”shesaysrigidly.
“Okay.”
“Oneking-sizebed.”
“That’sfine.”
“No.I’llsleeponaroll-awaycot.They’regoingtobringitup.”
“Sunny,that’sreallynotnecessary.It’sjustabed.Weslepttogethertheothernight.”
Shehikesherbaghigheronhershoulderandtipshernoseup.“Yes,well,thatwasbeforeIembarrassedmyselfanddecidedIwaspissedatyou.SoI’lltakethecot.”
Iresisttheurgetorollmyeyes.I’mgladshe’snotbeingthedoormatshewaswiththatdickhead,butI’malsonotaccustomedtoherbeingangrywithme
Whentheelevatordings,Igestureheraheadofme,lettingmyeyesdroptoherassasshewalksinside.Onlyadayago,Iwatchedherwalkintothelakeinherunderwear,butitfeelslikeit’sbeenweeks.
Iguessit’sbeenyears.
“Youheardfromyourdad?”Iaskasthedoorsslideshut.
“No.Imean,well,yes.He’smessaged.Andcalled.Andemailed.Butfrankly,I’mnotafanofhistone,soI’mignoringhimtoo.AtleastuntilheasksmehowIamorifI’msaferatherthanjustdemandingIcomeback.”
“Fair.”
Ihearherteethclanktogetheroverthesoftelevatormusic.“Cometothinkofit,I’mkindofdonewithmeningeneralrightnow.”Onehandwavesupanddowninmydirection.“Thewholelotofyou.”
“Alsofair.”
Shespinstowardmenow.“Whydoyouhavetobesofuckingagreeable,Jasper?”
“BecauseI’myourfriend,Sunny.Nothingwilleverchangethat.Ifyouneedtobitchaboutsomething,evenifthatsomethingisme,I’llbethatpersonforyou.”
“WhatifIgobacktoSterling?”
Myentirebodystills.Notafuckingchance.Iknowshe’sgoadingme.Andit’sworking.“No.”
“Youthinkyoucanjustwaltzin,tellmeyou’re”—herhandsformsarcasticairquotesasshecarrieson—“kindofinterestedmereweeksafterIwasmeanttogetmarried,andI’mgoingtotakeyourhandandskipoffintothesunset?Afterthesepastcoupleofweeks,Imustseemreallystupidtoyou,butI’mnotthatstupid.”
Thedooropens,andshesurgesoutoftheelevatoranddownthecarpetedhallway,irritationwaftingoffofher.Shelaughs.Actuallylaughs.
Becauseofcourseshedoes.Onlyshewouldlaughatamomentlikethis.
“Thisisinsane,”shemuttersassheturnsthecornerandfindsourroom.Oneswipeofthekeyandshe’sintothespace,tossingherbagontoachair.Shestormstowardthewindowswhereshestandswithherhandsonherhips,silhouettedbythewhiteoutontheoppositesideoftheglass.
“You’renotgoingbacktohim.”
Sheshrugsnonchalantly.“MaybeIwill.Youdon’ttellmewhattodo,Jasper.”
Notyet.ButIwill.
“You’renot.”
Shespins,hervoicecuttingacrosstheroomlikeshe’sthrownadartrightatmychest.“Andwhynot?”
“Becausehesucksthelifeoutofyou!”Sherearsback,clearlyshockedbythevolumeofmyvoice.“AndIwanttobreatheitbackin.”
Herlaughthistimeisnotatallamused.“Years,Jasper.Years.ForyearsIhavebeenthelittlecousin,thelittlesister,thegoodfriend.ForyearsIhaveseenyou.Waitedforyoueverysummer.Watchedyougoondateswithwomenwhoweren’tme—whowouldneverbeme.Iwassickoveryou.AndthenIcametotermswithwhatwewere.IacceptedIwouldalwayswantyouandyouwouldneverwantmeback.Iconvincedmyselfthatsometimesthegreatestlovesofourliveswillbeourclosestfriends.AndIwasokaywiththat.”
Mystomachdrops,mychestseizes,andnausearoils.
“IgotreallyfuckingcomfortableinmyheadwhereIcouldwantyouthatwaybuthadthesafetyofknowingyoudidn’twantmeback.Andnow?Youjustchangeyourmind?Willy-nilly?Whenemotionsarealreadyrunninghighforusboth?Thisisinsane.”
“Ididn’tjustchangemymind.”IdreadwhatI’mabouttotellher.She’salreadyangrywithherdad,andIloathethethoughtofbeingtheonetomakeherhatehim.Becausehearingwhatshe’sjusttoldme,Iknowthiswillhurther.
“Makethismakesenseforme,then!”
Myvoicedrops,andsodomyeyes.“Itwasyourdad.”
“What?”
Ipryattheedgesofmycap,pullingthebrimdowntoshieldmyself.“Itwasthefallyougotaspotwithyourcompany.Finallywentpro.GotaroleinTheNutcracker.Icametohelpyoumoveintoyournewcondodowntown.Youwereeighteen,andIwastwenty-four.”
“Iremember.”Hervoiceisquiet,hollowed-outsounding.
“Wehadfunsettingeverythingup.”
Shenods.“Wedid.”
“IhadsecuredaspotontheGrizzlies.Clawedmywayupoffthefarmteam.”
“Iremember,”sherepeats.
“Everythingwasgoingsowellforbothofus.Iwassohappyforyou.Soexcitedtoseeyouonstage.Tohaveafriendfrombackhomeinthecitywithme.”
Hereyesareshinynow.
“Butyourdadfoundmeleavingyourplace.”Iswallow,staringdownatmyhands,armslimpatmysidesbeforecrossingthemandslippingthembeneatheachotherlikeashield.“HethreatenedtopullstringswithhisfriendwhoownstheteamandhavemecutfromtherosterifIevercrossedthatlinewithyou.Hetoldmetostayfarawayfromyou.Thatheneverwantedtoseemeinyourpresencealoneagain.”
Shestillsaysnothing.Herbabybluesboreintomewithunnervingintensity.
“Youwerestillakidtomebackthen.Ireallydidn’tthinkofourrelationshipthatway,buthescaredmeallthesame.Sloane,youhavetounderstand,Ihadnothingtomynameexceptbeinggoodathockey.Beingreallyfuckinggoodathockey.GoodenoughtopullmyselfoutofthegutterIgotleftin.Andyourdad?He’sjustpowerfulandconnectedenoughtofollowthroughonhisthreats.”
Herbottomlipwobblesandhereyesblink.“Butwhywouldhewantyoutostayawayfromme?”
Myfacescrunches,andIwipeahandovermystubble,hearingtheraspinmyears.“Youreallycan’tguess,Sloane?It’sbecauseI’mnotoneofyou.I’mfrom,Ibelievehecalledit‘thewrongsideofthetracks.’Idon’ttakesixfiguretripstohuntlionsordriveaMaybach.Icamefromnothingandmadesomethingofmyselfbyworkingmyassoffandputtingonashowforthemasses.I’mbeholdentomenlikeyourfather,butI’llneverbeoneofthem.I’manEatonatheart.Asmalltownboy.AndIalwayswillbe,nomatterhowmanyzeroesareonmypaycheck.Andtobefrank,I’mhappywiththat.”
“ButIdon’tcareaboutyourpaycheck.Ineverhave.”Hervoiceissosmall,sobrittle.
Isighandreachuptosqueezeatmybrim,wantingtocomfortherbutnotwantingtooverstepeither.“Iknowyoudon’t.ButthisiswhatI’vebeentryingtotellyouallalong.Hedoesn’tcareaboutyou.Hedoesn’tcarethatSterlingisashitmatchforyou.Hedoesn’tcareaboutwhatyouwant.Hecaresaboutwhatheneeds.Hecouldn’triskmeoryouruininghisplansorhisreputationwithmydirtyupbringingandfucked-upfamilydynamic.AndIwastooyoungandtoodesperatetodefyhim.ImissedyourfirstprofessionalballetonthebigstagebecauseIwasscared.IkeptyouinthefriendzoneforyearsafterbecauseIwasscared.”
Shestaysperfectlystill.Theshinyveneershe’sassignedtoherfatheralltheseyearshascracked,andatearspillsdownhercheek.Aperfectdropletrollingoverherpaleskin,therealityofhismanipulationsseepingoutinaslow,devastatedtrickle.
Thatfrustrationsurgesupinmeatthesight,andIsaywhatI’vebeenwantingtosaytoherforgodknowshowlong.“Timeshavechanged,Sloane.I’mnotscaredanymore.You’renotmyfuckingfriend.You’rejustmine.”20Sloane
Dad:Sloane.Answerthisfuckingphone.NOW.You’redonedisrespectingme.Andifyou’reoffgallivantingwiththathomelessorphan,therewillbeconsequences.
Idipmyfaceintothewarmwater,hopingitwillmakethetearsonmycheeksblendin.ThesteamfromBlisswaterhotspringwaftsuparoundmewhilefatwhitesnowflakesfalldown.
Isitonthetiledbench,submerged,andIwatch.Theinstanttheycontactthetopofthewater,theymeltawayintonothing.
Ifeelalarminglykindredwiththem.EverythingIthoughtIknewaboutmylifehasmeltedawayintonothinginthespanofafive-minuteconversation.
Worstofall,I’mangrywithmyselffornotseeingit.BecausethemoreIthinkaboutit,themoreIthinkI’vebeenwillfullyignorantconcerningmyfather.
Whatlittlegirlwantstothinkherdadwouldn’thaveherbestinterestsatheart?Iwasn’tsubtleaboutmycrushintheearlydays.Heandmymomwouldhaveknown,they’dhaveseenit.
Andhemovedusallaroundlikechesspieces.Forwhat?Foroptics?Tocloseadeal?
Tobenefithimself.
TryasImight,that’stheonlythingIcancomeupwith.HavingmeconnectedwithJasperwasn’tbeneficialtohim,sohemadesureitwouldneverhappen.
ItcrushedmewhenJasperdidn’tshowuptomyfirstperformance.Hetextedmeandsaidhegotcaughtupreviewinggametape.Sentflowersinstead.
IshouldhavebeenhappyI’dfinallymadeit.Thathesentflowers.Butinstead,Icriedinthedressingroomwhilewipingoffcopiousamountsofmakeup.
Idipmyfaceinthewateragain,washingawaythefreshtearsthathavetumbleddown.
WhenIpullmyheadbackupandturnmyfaceuptothecoolnightair,someonesitsbesideme.
Idon’tevenneedtolooktoknowwhoitis.Iknowhissmell.Iknowhissize.Iknowhowmybodyreactswhenhedrawsnear.
Iknowhimsowell.AndyetIdidn’tknowthis.
Lettingmyheadtipbackagainstthetilededgeofthepool,Iallowmybodytorelaxandsinkintothewater.
Wedon’ttalk.Whatistheretosay?Somuchandsolittleallatonce.Hisarmbrushesagainstme,andthenhispinkyfingerwrapsaroundmine.
Idon’tknowhowlongwesittherelikethis.Snowfalling.Fingerslatchedtogether.Steambillowinguparoundus.Lightinstrumentalmusicplaysthroughthespeakers,andIcanhearthejoyfulsquealingofchildrenjumpingintothecoldpoolontheothersideofthedeck.
Tearscontinuetoleaksilentlyfrommyeyes.IwishIcouldmakethemstop,butIcan’t.Theacheinmychestisinsistent,andthewhat-ifsorcould-have-beensconsumeme.
Whatifmydadhadn’trunintohimthatnight?
Whatiftheirelevatorshadpassedeachother?Onegoingupwhiletheotherwentdown.
WhatifIhadn’tforcedmyselftohidemyfeelingsandmoveontootherrelationships?
WhatcouldhavebeenifI’djustblurteditallouttoJasper?
Whatcouldwehavebeenifhe’ddonethesame?
Wouldwebetogether?
Wouldmyparentssupportit?
WouldIevencare?OrwouldIthrowitallawayforashotatsomethingwithJasper?
Thequestionsdon’tstop,suffocatingmeundertheirweight.Theysaycomparisonisthethiefofjoy,andcomparinghowdifferentmylifemightlookifonetinyinteractionhadn’thappenedisdefinitelydoingthat.
It’slikeimaginingwhatyou’ddoifyouwonthelottery.Funtodreamaboutuntilyougetdepressedaboutthefactitwillneverhappen.
Onehottearstreaksdownthesideofmyface,andthewaterswishesbesideme,followedbythecallousedpadsofJasper’sfingersbrushingovertheappleofmycheek.Abreathhiccupsoutofmeathistouch.
Istilldon’topenmyeyes.Instead,Ijustletmyselffeelhim.Jasperhaswipedmanyofmytearsawayoverabrokenheart,overfrustration,impostorsyndrome,rawfeet.
Butneverlikethis.NeveroverbeingtheonetomakemerealizeI’vebeenapuppet.Everyoneinmylifehastreatedmelikethetinyballerinainsideajewelrybox.Nicetolookatandcutetolistentowhenyou’reinthemood,buteasilyshutawaywhenyouhavesomethingelsetodo.
I’mfuriouswithmyselfforsmilingandspinningeverytimesomeoneopenedthatbox.I’mangryatmyselffornotflippingthemthefingerandrefusingtotwirlaroundmindlessly.I’mnotangryatanyoneelse.
It’salldirectedatmyself.
AndsomehowI’mhardertoforgive.IthinkdeepdownIexpectedbetterofmyself.
IwonderifthisishowJasperfeelstoo.Fuck,thatmustbeaheavyburdentobear.
Hisbroadhandslidesovermycheek,histhumbandforefingergrippingmychintoturnmyheadhisway.“Sunny,lookatme.”
TheauthorityinhisvoicesendsashiverdownmyspineeventhoughI’msittinginperfectlyhotwater.Myeyesopenandimmediatelylatchontohis.
I’mtransportedtothatfirstdayIsawhim,alltall,lanky,andboyish.Eventhenhemovedlikeanathlete.Hisgait,hismannerisms.Everythingabouthimscreamedstrengthandagility.Itstilldoesbutit’stenfold.
Lookingathimisalmostunbearablerightnow.
Hisirisesaredarksapphiresunderthenightskyastheytracemyface.Eyes.Mouth.Throat.Thenlower.
Acoldsnowflakelandsonthetipofmynoserightasheasks,“Tellmehowtomakeyoufeelbetter.”
Myheartacceleratesinmychest,likeacargoingfromzerotosixty.It’shisvoice.It’shishands.Hisnearness.It’stheopen-endedquestionhejustasked.
Icouldtellhimtocarrymeuptoourroomandfuckme,ruinmesothoroughlythatallIcanthinkaboutishimandwherehe’stouchingme,andhe’ddoit
Iopenmymouthtosayit,butthenIreinitbackin,feelingsofaroutofmydepth.LikeIhavewhiplash.LikeIneedtogathermythoughtsbeforeIsayordosomethingstupid.
Likecompletelyruinthisfriendship.
“I’mgoingtogotakeashower,”Irasp,holdinghisgazeandwatchinghischindipinasubtlenod.
AndthenImoveacrossthepool,thewatercaressingmybodylikesilkrunningovermyskin.ThesensationofhiseyesroamingmybackandmyassasItaketheshallowstepsupontothepoolisheady.
Mybodyscreamsatmetogobacktohim.ButIdon’twanttobethatballerinainajewelryboxwithhim.Idon’twanthimtofeellikeheneedstosaveme
Iwanttosavemyself.
Iemergefromthebathroominapuffofwarmsteam.MyskinispinkandrawfromhowhotIhadthewater,fromhowhardIscrubbedmyskin.
IfeellikeIscaldedanentirelayerofmyselfawayinthere.Foundalittlekernelofstrengthhidingunderneathandlatchedontoit.DecidedIwon’tbethegirlwhogoesalongwithwhateveryoneelsearoundherwants.
I’mgoingtospeakup.
I’mgoingtogetcomfortabledisappointingotherpeopletoavoiddisappointingmyself.
Iwon’tapologizefordoingthingsthewayIwanttodothem.
I’mreadytobeunapologeticallymeandletgoofthepeopleinmylifewhodon’tapproveofthepersonIamnow.
Jasper’sheadsnapsup,eyesdraggingdownmybodyandthesmallwhitetowelIhavewrappedaroundmytorso.Hedoesn’tbotherdroppingmygazeorhidingtheintenselookofwantthatpaintshisfeatures.
AndIdecidetorevelinthat.Thepettypartofmehopesithurts.IhopehefeelsafractionofthelongingI’vefeltforhimwhilehesataround,nottellingmewhyhe’sstayedsocloseandsofarawayallatonce.
“Shower’sallyours.Bathroomlockdoesn’twork.”Ihikeathumbovermyshoulderandwalkstraighttowardmyduffelbagthat’sbesidetheatrociouslittlecotI’vetoldmyselfI’mgoingtosleepon.
I’mnotsurewhatpointIwastryingtoprove.ThenewmewouldmakeJaspersleeponit,butonelookathimandhishulkingframetellsmethatisn’tanoption.
Ilovehimtoomuchtodothattohim.Andhelikesmetoomuchtosayno.
God.We’resofucked.
“Thanks.”Ihearhimmoveacrosstheroom,thefloorboardsbeneaththetightlywovencarpetcreakingashelumberspast.
Itrytoforcemyselfnottoturnandcheckhimoutashegoes.
ButIfail.
Miserably.
Iletmyeyeswanderoverhisbroad,tonedshoulders,thewayhismusclesrippleinhisbackashewalks.Theindentdownthecolumnofhisspine.Thegrayscaletattoosthatwraparoundhisarmsandaloneonethatpeeksoutonhisribs.Icanonlyseeitbecauseheliftsonearmandrunsahandthroughhishair,butitlooksanawfullotlike
No.
Ishakemyheadandturnbacktomybag.WhenIheartheclickofthebathroomdoorclosing,IdropmytowelandquicklyslideintoapairofblackCalvinKleinsleepshortsandatightblacktanktop.Nobra.Mybreastsaren’tbigenoughforittomatter.Thisstretchymaterialpressesthemintoplacewithoutissue.
Isitonthecot,andaspringpokesmyassthroughtheflimsymattress.It’sfine.Ididn’ttorturemyselfinpointeshoesforyearstobeputoffbyaminordiscomfort.
AsIliebackonthesqueakycot,theglimpseofJasper’stattookeepspoppingupinmyhead.I’vealwaysknownJasperhasalotoftattoos.Whatstartedoutasonegrewintomany.Theycoverhisbiceps,twistoverhisshoulders,andcrawldownhisforearms.They’reallblack,theolderonesmorefadedthanthenewerones.
Forme,theyjustaddtohisappeal.MenlikeSterlingdon’tgettattoos.Theygetfacials.Jasperisn’t“oneofus”asmydadwouldsay—acommentthatringsalotmoreoffensivenowthatI’veremovedmyblinders.
JasperisnothinglikethemenIgrewuparound.He’srawanddirtyandlovessohardhehurtshimselfintheprocess.
AndIwanttoknowwhatthatfuckingtattoois.
Istand,stormacrosstheroom,andtossthebathroomdooropen,steppingintothespace.
OnestronghandpropsJasper’shulkingformupagainsttheshowerwallwhiletheothergripshiscock,pumpingupanddownslowly.
Hisheadturnstome.
Wetcaramelhairframeshisface,andthesprayfromtheshowerlasheshisspinebeforestreamingdowninrivuletsoverhistightlymuscledbackandperfectlyroundass.
IalwaysknewJasper’sbodywasgreat,thathespentlonghourstrainingandworkingandtakingcareofhimself,buthe’s…magazineworthy.Hisbodylookscutfromstone.
Rightalongwithhiscock.
“I’msorry,”Isayinstantly,frozenonthespot,staringathiswell-proportionedbody.He’sabigmanandsoishis…
“No,you’renot.”Hiseyesholdawickedglintastheyfixateonme.Hestraightens,buthishandkeepstwistinglanguidly,casually,likeit’sperfectlynormalforhimtojerkoffwhileIwatch.
“Ididn’tmeantobargeinhere.”
“Yes,youdid.”Hesmirksatmenow,andmykneesgoalittleweak.
Heknowsmetoowelltopulloffplayingstupid.Plus,IpromisedmyselfI’dstopapologizingforbeingmyself.
AndmyselfreallywantstoseeJaspernaked.
Istandhere,mouthpoppingopenandclosedlikeafishoutofwater,notsurewhattodonowbecause…hishandisstillmoving.Themusclesandveinsinhisforearmsrippleashepumps.
“Sloane,closethedoorandsitonthecounter.”
Pump
“Pardonme?”Myheartthrasheswildlyinmychest.
“Shutthedoor.”
Pump
“Andputthattightlittleassuponthecounter.”
Pump.
Mycheeksflame.
“Webothknowyouwanttowatch.”
Iwanttodenyit,tellhimhe’scrazyandouttolunch.Thatwe’refriendsandIdon’twanttoruinourrelationship.
Thetruthis,though,Iwanttoruinit.Badly.
Mybrainmightbeinbitchmode,butmyheart?Myheartisinslutmode.
Itakeacoupleofstepsandliftmytightlittleassontothecounter.
Pump
“Goodgirl,”thetonedAdonisintheshowerpraisesme,andmyfingerstightenaroundtheedgeofthecounterhardenoughtosnapanail.
He’ssobrazen,sounlikethequiet,broodymanIknow.Hiseyeslickovermyskinlikefire,andheneverstopsjerkinghimselfasheincineratesme.Everymuscleinhisbodyisheldtaut,everylinedefined.Hispecs.Hisabs.ThosesharpV-linesthattraildowntowherealltheactionistakingplace.
Aprimvoiceinsidemetellsmethepolitethingtodoislookaway.
ButtonightI’mnotbeingthepolitewomanI’vebeentoldIshouldbe.
SoIstare.Itakeitallin.Theround,smoothhead.Thethickgirth.Thesmatteringofhairthatleadstohistonedstomach.
Iabsentlylickmylipsandhegroans.MygazesnapsuptothosenavyeyesIknowsowell.Theyholdmecaptive.They’resimmeringwithaheatI’veneverseen.He’sdoneagoodjoboflookingatmelikeI’mafriend,butheisn’trightnow.
He’slookingatmelikeI’mhis.
“Sloane,”heraspsashisfingerscurlintothevinylwall.“Lookatme.Talktome.”
Ilickmylipsagain,shiftingandfeelinghowslickIamfromwatchinghim.IfIslidahandintomyshorts,Icouldmakemyselfcomeinseconds.“Keepgoing,”isallIsayback,squeezingmythighstogetherasIrevelinthewetslappingsoundsofhisincreasedpace.
“Youwearinganythingunderthoseshorts,honey?”Ididn’tthinkhisvoicecouldgetanylower,butitdoes.
“No.”MyheadsshakesrapidlyandIswallow.
Jasper’srespondinggroanispuremasculinity.“Icouldsoeasilypullthemtothesideandseeitall.”Hiswordsvibratethroughmybody,hittingmycorewithanalmostpainfulpangoflonging.Forthat.Exactlywhathe’sdescribing.
HisgazedropsandIsquirmundertheweightofit.Hestareshardattheapexofmythighs,wheremyshortsarewedgedupjustalittletootightly.Thenhisheatedstaresnagsonmyhardnipples,thefranticriseandfallofmychest,beforehedivesbackintomyeyes.
Theeyecontactisunnerving.
It’serotic.Helookswildandundone.
“Fuck,”hecursesbeforemurmuring,“Sloane,”again.Hisbodygrowsrigid,everyhardedgeofhimstrungtightashetugsathiscocksavagely.
Andthenthefirstshotofhiscumspraysontotheglasswallinfrontofhim.Amoaneruptsfrommythroatatthesight.Anothersurge.Andanother.
Itfeelsmessyandanimalistic,andmybodyisafieryballofnervesasIwatchhimfallapartinfrontofmewithmynameonhislips.
I’veneverfeltmoreimportanttosomeone,andthemanhasn’teventouchedme.
Hischindropstohischest,andIwatchhimpant,hisbodyheaving.I’minthesameboat.It’slikeIjustwentthroughanentirechoreographyatfullintensity.
Myeyesbouncebetweenhisbodyandthecumslippingdowntheglass.
Heshiftstheshowerhead,musclesflexingasherinsestheglassbeforeturningtheshoweroffandsteppingoutofthewater.Hedoesn’tbothercoveringhimself.Thereisn’tanounceofself-consciousnessinhim.
Infact,whenheseesmestaring,hesmirks.
Dropletsofwaterhughisskininawaythatmakesmeirrationallyjealous.Thenhereachesforatowel,andIseeitagain.
Thetattoo.
“IcameinherebecauseIwantedtoseethat.”Oneshakyhandpointsathisribcage.
Hetowelshimselfoff.“YouwantedtowatchmefuckmyhandwhileIpretendeditwasyouinthosetinyshorts?That’swhyyoubargedinhere?”
Mycoreclenchesandgoosebumpsbreakoutalongthebackofmyneck,coolsweatonmytemples.Iswallowandpushahead.“I’mtalkingaboutthetattoo,Jas.”
Heglancesupnow,seeingwhereI’mpointing,andliftshisleftarm.Igetafullviewofthetinyballerinainkedonhisskin.ItlooksliketheonesinsideajewelryboxI’dbeenthinkingaboutearlier.
“Oh.”Hesighs.“That.”
“Yeah.That.”
Jasperdropsthetowelandclosesthespacebetweenus,starknakedandconfident,cockstillfull,lookingfuckingdelicious.Heputsonehandoneachofmykneesandpriesthemopen.Keepingmylegsclampedtogetherwasdullingtheacheinmycore,andIwhimperbeforebitingdownonmybottomliptoshutmyselfup.I’msoakedandI’msureheknowsit.
Hestepsbetweenmyspreadlegslikeheknowshebelongsthereandliftshisleftarmtogivemeaclose-upviewofthetattoo.
She’sdaintyandhasaserene,doll-likeexpressiononherface,handsheldupinperfectpirouetteposition.Theribbonsfromherpointeshoeswraparoundheranklesasshespins,andlittledotstexturethelaceofhertutu.
Ireachoutandtrailthetipsofmyfingersovertheinkedtulleasifthetexturemightbereal.ButallI’mmetwithissmoothskin,firmmuscle,andasharpintakeofbreathfromthebeautifulmanwhostandsbeforeme.JasperwatchesmyfingersasIslidethemovereverydetailofthesmallballerinatuckedsafelyunderhisarm.
“What…”Ishakemyhead,tryingtoputmywordstogetherincoherentorder.“Whatisthis?”
“Ithoughtitwouldlookfamiliartoyou,”hequips,justlettingmesoakitinashishipsbumpagainsttheinsideofmythighs.Histhickcocksodamnclose.
MyheadtiltsandIpeekupathim.“Why?”
HeknowsImeanwhydoeshehaveaballerinainkedonhimwhentherestarepatterns—scales,lines,andgeometricshapesthatremindmeofakaleidoscope.
HisAdam’sapplebobs.“BecauseImissedyourfirstprofessionaldance.”Heclearshisthroat,staringatmyhandsandavoidingmyeyes.“Iwantedtobetheresobadlyafterallthetimesyou’dbeenthereforme,soIwentanddidsomethingthatnighttocommemorateitinmyownway.”
Iblinkmylashesrapidlytoclearmyeyes.“Yousaidyouwerereviewinggametape.”
Hisrighthandsqueezesmykneeandslidesupmythigh,fingerssneakingunderthehemlineofmyshorts,dustingupfurtherthaneverbefore.“YoureallythinkI’dmissyourbignighttoreviewgametape?”
“I…”Itrailoffbecause,no.IfIreallythinkaboutit,Iknowhewouldn’t.He’salwaysbeenthereforme,andthatnightwasanoutlier.Lookingback,itdoesn’tmakesenseforhimtomissitatall.“Butyou’vecomesincethen.”
“IstartedcomingwhenIfiguredyourdadwouldn’tbetheretocatchme.Yourdebutnightwastoorisky.Isawtheshowthough.Icameafewweeksintotherunandsatinthenosebleedsbymyself.”
Iflattenmypalmonhisribsandturnmyfaceuptohis,hisbreathfanningoutacrossmywetlips.“Why?”
Hispupilsshiftbetweenmyeyesbeforehesighsandsays,“Ittookmeawhiletofigurethatout.Years,infact,tosortthroughmyfeelings,tomakesenseofthem,figureoutwheretheycamefromandwheretheyweregoing.Ithoughtyouwerejustafriend.Buthimtellingmetostayaway?HimtellingmeIcouldn’thaveyou?Itbrokesomethinginsideme.TellingmeIwasn’tgoodenoughforyou?Allthatdidwasmakemewanttobegoodenoughforyou.”
Igroan.“Youhavealwaysbeengoodenoughforme.”
Hegripsmychinandregardsmecarefullyunderthebrightlights.“IneverfeltlikeIwas.ButIdonow.”
Myheadswimswithhisadmission.Excitementquarrelswithfrustration.Desirewarswithself-preservation.
“Ineedaminute,”iswhatIcomebackwithasIgentlypushhimaway.
Andwalkoutofthebathroom.
AfteryearsoflongingforJasperGervais,I’minshock.AndIcan’tthinkstraightwithhisnakedbodyagainstme.
Ifeelwrungout.Ifeelsad.Ifeelangry.
IfeelsofuckinghornyIcouldburst.21Sloane
Icrawlintomycreakycot,feelingitwobbleasIberatemyselfforbeingsostubbornthatIthoughtthisricketylittlekid’sbed—that’sprobablyseensomenighttimeaccidents—wasabetterideathansleepinginthesamebedasJasper.
Thethumpofhisfeetacrosstheroomactuallyshakesthecot.I’vegotmybackturnedtohimandmyeyessqueezedshut,somyauditorysenseisheightened.Icanhearhimputtingonclothes.Thezipperonhisbag.Thewispypoppingnoiseofhisbig,stupidheadcomingthroughtheneckholeofhisshirt.
TheheadthatpopsupeverytimeIclosemyeyeslately.Howcouldhehaveseenmethiswayforsolongandsaidnothing?WatchedmedateotherAlmostmarryone?
IguessIshouldaskmyselfthesamequestion.MaybeIhaveasmall,stupidhead.Maybewewerebothsogoodathidingitandconvincingourselvesthattheothercouldneverfeelthesamethatwe’vespentyearsstaringateachotherfromadistance.
Theentirethingisprofoundlystupid.
SuddenlyI’mawareoftheheatofhisbodybehindmine,hissoftexhaleatthebackofmyneckashedropstohiskneesbesidethecot.“Whatdoyouthinkyou’redoing?”
Hisnearness.Hisvoice.It’stoomuch.Ashiverracesdownmyspine,andIclampmylipstightagainsteachothertostiflewhateverdesperatelittlenoisewouldleapfromthem.
“Goingtosleep.Youshouldtoo.Beenalongday,”Iwhisperbackhuskily.
“DoyoureallythinkthatI’mgoingtoletyousleeponthisjokeofacot?Orjustwalkawayafterthat?”
“Idon’tneed—”
“Cometobed,”heurges,notbackingdown.
“Iaminbed,”Igrumblebackstubbornly.
“Thebigbed,Sloane.”
“Seriously,getfucked,Gervais.Gosnugglewithyoursecrets,youexhausting,broodyasshole.I’mnotleavingthismattress.I’mputtingmyfootdown.”
Ipeekathimovermyshoulder,andhegivesmealittlesmirk.“Theresheis.”
“Yes,”Ihuff,turningawayandhearingthemattresscreak.“HereIam.”
Handsreachbetweenthethinmattressandthemetalcoilsbeneathit.IgorigidasJasperdropshismouthtotheshellofmyear.“Itoldyouthatyouaren’tsleepinghere.AndIfuckingmeantit.”
Whenheliftsme,Isqueal.Themattressissoshittyitcurlsuparoundme,makingmeintoalittleSloanetaco.
“Whatthehelldoyouthinkyou’redoing?”Ishoutathim,notwantingtosquirmtoohardinmyprecariousposition.
Heturnswithmeandthemattressandallthebeddinginhisstrongholdandtakesthreelongstridestowardthebedbeforegentlyploppingmedownontheking-sizebed.
Isitup,glaringathim,buthetakesnonotice.Infact,heturnsaround,grabsthecotframe,dragsittothedoor,andtossesitoutintothehallwaywithaloudmetalclang.Thenhelocksthedoorstrutsbacktothebed.
Lookingallfuckingsmugandsatisfied.
“Didyouhearme,Gervais?Iaskedyouwhatthehellyouthinkyou’redoing?”
Heflipsthecoversbackonhissideofthebed,afewincheslowerthanwhereI’mlyingbesidehim,andflopsontothebed.
“Areyousmiling?”Myvoiceisshrillnow.
“Youtoldmeyouweren’tleavingthatmattress,Sunny.I’mjusttryingtorespectyourwishes.”
Ipunchhiminthebicep,andhelaughs.
“Yourmoodswingsareoutofcontrol.Doyouknowthat?”Idropbackdown,turningawayfromhim.Ipunchmypillow,agitationliningeverymovement.“Everyonetalksaboutwomenbeingtooemotional.Toohormonal.I’minclinedtothinkmenaretheproblem.Uswomenwouldbejustfinewithoutallofyoufuckingusup.”
IhearhimstrugglingtocontainhislaughterasIlieonmyside,staringatthewall.SilencestretchesbetweenusuntilIwonderifhe’sfallenasleep.
“You’reright,”hefinallyresponds.
“Iam?Aboutwhat?”Mybrainisn’tfiringbecausewe’vetalkedaboutsomanythingstoday,bickeredoversomanybygones.Idon’tevenknowwhatI’mrightaboutanymore.OrifIevencareaboutbeingright.
“Everything.”
Idon’trespond.Iliebesidehiminthedarkroomandthink.Andthink.Andthink.Whichleadstoalotofuncomfortabletossingandturning.BecausewhatI’mthinkingaboutishiscumdrippingdowntheglassshowerencasement.Thewayhisbodyflexed.Thewaymynamesoundedonhislips.
WhatI’mthinkingabouthasmeunsettledandwishingIweren’tlyingrightnexttohim.He’stoocloseandI’veseentoomuch.IwishIcouldun-turnmyselfon.ButIdon’tknowhow.
“Sloane,areyouplanningonsleepingtonight?”Hisvoicecutsthroughthequietroom.“Areyouuncomfortable?DoIneedtogetridofthatshittymattressforyou?”Icanhearthetauntinhisvoice.
“I’mextremelycomfortable.Thankyouverymuch.”
WhatImeanis,I’mpainfullyhornythankstoyourlittleshow,butI’malsoangryrightnow.
Hechuckles,adeep,softrumbleinthedark.Ifeelhimmovecloser.“Areyouallwoundup,Sunny?”Istartwhenthepadofhisfingertouchesthetopofmyear.Hetracestheouteredgedowntothelobe.
Whenhistouchmovestothesideofmyneck,lightandreverent,Ishiver.
Ishakemyheadno.
Hisfingermovesdownandexplorestheridgeofmycollarbone.“Doyouneedmetolendyouahand?”
I’mabouttosaynooutloud,buthisfingersjumptomymouth,pressingonmylipsandsilencingme.
Hedropshisheadtomyear.“Isawyouintherewatchingme,Sunny.Isawyousqueezingyourthighstogether.Sofuckingneedy.”Hisfingersleavemylipsandmovetotoywiththethinspaghettistrapthat’sstrungovermyshoulder.“NowthatI’veseenit,Ican’tunseeit.It’sgameonformenow.SoI’mgoingtoaskyouonemoretime.Doyouneedmetolendyouahand?”
Isigh,dreamingoflettingmyselfgivein,evenjustforaminute.Iwanttogivein,andItoldmyselfI’dstarttakingwhatIwant.
“I’mupset.I’mconfused.I’mangryaboutthestateofmylife.ButI…yes,Iwantthat.”
Heslidesthestrapdownandpressesakisstothetopofmyshoulder.“Iknowyouare.”Ishiver.“Butwecanbeangrytogether.BecauseIcan’tstandseeinghisringonyourfinger.”
Iglanceatmyflattenedhandonthepillowandreachforthering,suddenlydesperatetotakeitoff,butJasper’soppositehandpushesmyarmbackdownbeforeslippingundertheblackfabricofmytanktop.
Hepalmsmybreast,tweakingmynipple.Ibuckagainstthesheetcoveringmybodyandmoan.“I’mgoingtomakeyoucome,withhisringon,asonefinalfuckyoutothatasshole.Andthenyoucangobacktobeingmadattheworld.Idon’tblameyouonebit.Andwhenyou’redonewithhavingyourmoment,we’lltalk.”
Iscoffbutitholdsnobite.“Whatdoesthatevenmean?We’lltalk?”
Histeethgrazemyshoulder.“ItmeansIwantyou,Sloane.ButI’mcomplicated.ThethingsIlike,thethingsIwant,thewaymyheadworks.You’resolightandshiny.Idon’twanttotarnishyou.Idon’twanttohurtyou.”Histeethsinkintomyshoulder,andIbuckbackagainsthim,gasping.“MorethananythingIdon’twanttoloseyou.”
“Youwon’t.Ipromiseyouwon’t,”Ibreatheout,gaspingashetwistsmynipplehardenoughtojutupagainsttheedgeofbeingpainful.
Jasperchuckles,adarkchucklethatholdssomuchpromise.“Don’tmakepromisesyoucan’tkeep,Sloane.Ihaveaspecialknackforpushingpeopleaway.Theyalwaystakeoff.Andthey’reneverallthatsadtoleavemebehind.”
Isthatreallywhathethinks?Myheartcrackswideopenforhim.Likeitalwayshas.
Heglideshishandfromundermytanktopandlazilytrailsitdownthesideofmybody,pullingawaytheflimsysheetashegoes.Socoolandconfident.
Sopracticed.
Mykneesaretuckedupinfrontofme,sohetugsthehemofmyshortsup,exposingthecurveofmyassandpalmingitgentlybeforesqueezingwithaquietgroan.
Andthenhe’stouchingme,strokingmycore,spreadingthewetnessheknewwasthere.Heslipsitallovermypussy,paintingmewithmyarousallikehe’sprovingsomesortofpoint.
Hisforeheaddropsagainstmyshoulder,andhegroanssodeepitsoundslikeitphysicallypainshimtotouchme.“Sofuckingwetforme,”hesaysashislipsdragupmyshoulderandhedotsslowkissesupmynecktowardmyear.
Hisfingersswirlandpressdownonmyclitashecupsmefirmly,makingmewhimper.Makingmesoundsofuckingneedy.
Hesucksonmyneck,hardenoughIknowitwillleaveamark.
I’mabouttoprotest,buthestealsmybreathinstantlyashepushestwofingersinsideme.Mybodyarchestoaccommodatehim.
“Haveyoubeenpretendingotherpeopleweremealltheseyears?Justlikeme?Ibetyouhave.”
“Ohgod.”Imoanandpushbackonhisfingers.Heeasesthemoutandtwiststhembackin,painfullyslow.Isavorthepurelongingineverymotion.
It’sdelicioustorture.Andthat’swhatIlike.
“Youmightbewearinghisring,butwebothknowitwasmycockyouwereridinginyourhead,”hehusksacrossmyskin.
Embarrassmentswirlswitharousal.He’snotwrong.Well,notentirely.He’swrongaboutSterlingandIhavingmuchsexatall.Duringtheshorttimeweweretogether,Imanagedtogetanawfullotofmigrainesorbestucktrainingatthestudiountillate.
HisfingersworkmeandIfeelmyselfleaking,growingmorearousedthemorehetouchesme.Themorehetalkstome.
Hepushesupontooneelbowsothathe’sstaringdownoverme.“Lookatme,Sloane.”
I’vekeptmyeyesfixedonthedarkenedwallaheadofmeuntilnow.Lookingathimfeelslike…alot.LikelayingmyselfbareforhimwhenI’vetoldhimsomuchandhe’sgivenmesolittle.
Idecidetostayfacingthewall,protectwhatlittleshredsofmyheartanddignitymightstillbemine.BecauseJasperGervaisconsumeseveryotherpartofme.
Hepullshisfingersout,andIrollontomyback,readytodemandhekeepsgoing,butassoonasmyeyesmeethis,hishandsarebackonme.
“Idon’tliketoasktwice,”isallhesaysbeforeplunginghisfingersintomypussy.Iclenchandmoan,relievedhavehimbackinsideme.“Eyesonme,
AllIcandoisstareathisdarkblueeyesfixedsotightlyonme.Hisbodyexpertlyworksmine,andthatexquisitepressurebuilds,twistingitselfupfromeverycornerofmybody.
I’mmadathimforallthethingshehasn’ttoldme.
ButI’malsoattachedtohim.
Probablyalreadyforgivenhim.
Mostlikelyirretrievablyinlovewithhim.
“Whenyou’refuckingsomeoneelse,whoareyouthinkingabout?”herasps.“Iwanttohearyousayit.”
“Why?Areyoujealous?”Iprodhim,tryingtoavoidtheinevitable,tryingtogethimtogivemesomeshredoffeelingwhenhe’salwayslockedupsodamntight.
Hedoesn’thesitate.“Jealousisonlythetipoftheiceberg.YouhavenoideahowmanytimesI’vewishedIwasthemantouchingyou.”Hishandtakesatourofmycurvesashetalks.“Themanpalmingtheseprettytits.Themanwithhisheadbetweenthesethighsmakingyouscream.Themanfillingupthistightlittlepussyeverynight.”
Mybreathinggoesragged.
“Tellme,Sloane.”
ThisisoneofthosethingsIkeepinthedarkrecessesofmymind,awayfromthelightofday.Andnowhe’saskingmetojustadmitit?
Headdsathirdfingerandstrumsmyclitwithhisthumb,makingmebuckwildly.
“You.It’salwaysbeenyou.”Ispitthewordsoutwithforce.It’stheonlywaytogetthempastthelogicalpartofmybraintellingmetokeepthesesecretslockeduptight.
“Ofcourseithas,”hegrowls.“AndnowI’mgoingtoremindyouwhy.”
Andthenhislipscrashdownonmine,claimingmelikeI’vealwaysdreamedhewould.
Wepourourselvesintothiskiss.Thegood.Thebad.Thelonging.Thehurt.Thelove.
Hisbodysoftens,andhedrapeshimselfoverme,onehandtanglinginmyhairwhiletheotherworksbetweenmylegs.Iadjust,spreadingmyselfandgivinghimbetteraccess.Igivemyselftohim,andhegivesalittlepieceofhimselftome.
Afterall,he’sJasper.Theboywithsadeyesandaheartofgold.
I’vealwaystrustedhimandIalwayswill.
Thethoughtofhim,ofus,wrapsaroundthemagicalwayhisfingerstouchme,andIcareentowardthatedge.Myvisiongoesspotty,mylipsfeelnumb,andanacheunfurlsbehindmyhipbones.
“Jasper,”Iwhisperbetweensoft,searchingkisses.“Ohgod.Ohshit.Oh,oh—”
AndthenIfreefall.Mybodythrashesasapowerfulreleasewashesoverme.MyvisongoesfuzzyattheedgeswhileIluxuriateinthemostintenseorgasmofmylife.AndJasperjustkeepsholdingmetight,watchingeverylittlemoveImakewithraptfascination.
Withadoration.
Thenhislipsmovedowntodotkissesovermyentireface.Myfingerstangleinhiswethair,andmybodysoftenswhenhesays,“See,Sloane?Youcanwearsomeoneelse’sring,butwebothknowyou’vealwaysbeenmine.”22Jasper
ItoldmyselfIwouldonlytouchherforfourseconds.
ItoldmyselfIwouldonlykissherforfourseconds.
ItoldmyselfIwouldonlybemadaboutseeingthatsparklyfuckingringdustingovermytattooforfourfuckingseconds.
AnditturnsoutI’mabigfuckingliar.
I’mstilltouchingher.I’vestillgotmyfingersstuffedinhertightpussy.Mylipsarestilldraggingalloverhersoftfuckingskin.
AndI’mstillfuriousthatshe’swearingthatgaudyring.
Mine.
WhythehelldidItellherthat?WhythehellhaveIgottensodamnpossessivesincethesecondIfoundoutshewasengaged?WhyhaveIalwaysconsideredhermineandneverfeltthreatenedaboutituntilhim?
Iamonehundredpercentoutofcontrol,andIhatethisfeeling.Intrusivethoughtsrapidfireintomyhead,andmywallscrumble.
Ruiningourfriendship.
Herleavingme.
Herhatingme.
Iletmyselfthinkaboutthosethingsforfourseconds.ThenIputtheminaboxandstashthemawaywithalltheotherthoughtsthateatmealive,includingtheonesI’vekeptlockeduptightaboutSloane.
Iwithdrawfromhersoft,warmbodybecauseIdidwhatIpromised—tookwhatIwanted,whatsheneeded—andnowwe’regoingtosleep.
We’lltalkabouteverythingwithlevelheadsinthemorningwhenangerandyearsofpent-upsexualfrustrationdon’truleus.
Frombothsides.BecauseI’mnotanidiot.SloaneWinthrophasbeenturningheadsforyears,andI’msureasshitnotimmune.Herface.Herbody.Everythingaboutherisoutwardlyappealing.
Fuckingdistracting.
Butit’swhat’sinsideherthat’ssospecial.Herheart.Herbrain.Hercapacityforempathy.
She’sunusual.She’stoodamnpronetodowhatpeopletellhersoshedoesn’truffleanyfeathers.Whetherornotsherealizesit,shedoesn’tneedanothermaninherlifecontrollingher.
AndmyneedtotakecontrolisabeastIkeeplockedinside,awayfromthegirlI’veputuponapedestal.I’mnotkeentotestthatshitwiththeonlygirlI’veevercaredaboutwhilewe’rebothfeelingsoraw.
BecausewhatifIdoandsheleavesme?
Iwouldn’tsurviveit.
Withonelastkisstoherwarmcheek,Ipullback,tryingtowrapmyheadaroundwhatthefuckI’vedoneinmyseveralsecondsofinsanity.Iffoursecondswerethegoalpost,Iblewrightthefuckpastthem.
“More,”shemurmurs,voicethickwitharousal.
Myheadtipsback,andIstareattheceilingprayingfor…something.Mybodyriots.Iwanttogivehermore.Tasteher.Rollheroverandcoverherbodywithmine.Watchhercomeapartoverandoveragain.
Herhandsreachforme,andmychestachesasIfightofftheurgetoreachback.
“That’sittonight,Sunny,”Isay,myvoicesoftyetfirm.“Comehere.”Iopenmyarms,readytoshovethatnastymattressontothefloorandholdherallnightlong.
“Whatdoyoumean,that’sit?”Sheturnstofaceme.
“Imean,that’sit.Fortonight.”Itrailahandthroughmyhair,tugginghardasanxietylancesthroughme.
You’vealreadyfuckedthisup,youhornyfuckingidiot.
“I’mnotdoingmorewhileyou’reangryatme.Idon’twanttohurtyou.”
“Youwouldneverhurtme.”
Abreathhissesoutofme.Hearinghersaythatphysicallypainsme.ItunderminesalltheguiltIliketowalkaroundwithbecauseshe’sright.Iwouldneverhurther.“It’scomplicated,”ismystupidresponse.
Shesighs.“Thingswithyoualwaysare.”Herhandtrailsupmyforearm.“Tellmewhat’swrong,Jas.Icanseeyoufreakingoutinthere.”Herchingesturestowardmyhead.She’salwaysknownwhenI’mfreakingout.It’slikeshehasasixthsenseforit.
“Ijust…Ilike…”Fuck.IhavenoproblemtellingarandomwomanwhatIlikesexually.It’spower.It’scontrol.It’swatchingherdoexactlywhatIsay.Itisn’tjustsex,it’sprovingtomyselfthatwhenItellsomeonewhattodo,theoutcomeisgood.Icanmakeitsodamngoodforthem.
“Youlikewhat?”Hereyesarewide,herfacesoperfect,hertonesoaccepting.
I’dhateforhertoseemedifferently.Iwanther,butI’mscaredofchangingusintheprocess.
“We’lltalktomorrow.Let’ssleep.”Mybodyhums.Imayhavelentherahand,butallI’vedoneisworkmyselfupalloveragainintheprocess.
Hergazesearchesmyfaceforafewmoments.Afrustratedlaughburstsfromherlips,herheadshakingonthepillowasshereachesdowntopullthesheetoverherbody.“Well,atleastyou’reconsistentwithbeingterribleattalkingaboutyourfeelings.”Sheturnsoverinahuff,muttering,“Boysaresofuckingdumb.Thanksfortheorgasm.”
“Itwasagoodone,wasn’tit?”Shedoesn’tneedtoconfirmit.Iknowitwas.Ifeltittoo.
I’mmetwithafewsecondsofsilenceandthenafrustrated,“Ugh,”beforeshehunkersdownandgivesmethesilenttreatment.
Ismile.Atleastshe’sbesideme.Pissedoffandonachild-sizedmattressoverthetopoftheperfectlyspaciouskingisbetterthanacrosstheroomanduncomfortable.
Ilieherethinkingabouthowthisentirenightisquintessentiallyus.Highsandlows,pleasureandpain,happinessandsadness.Secretsandtruths.
WithSloanetherestoftheshitintheworlddoesn’tmatterbecausewhenI’mbesideher,italwaysfeelsright.Itsoothesme.Shesoothesme.Shealwayshas.
She’sthatpersonforme.
I’moutofmydepthwithherbutthisisSloane.MySloane.Nomatterwhat,we’rethereforeachother.
MySloane
Ithinkitagainandgoditfeelsgood.
IwakeupwithSloane’sbodydrapedovermine.Herjunkylittlemattresshangsofftheedgeofthebedbecausesheclearlypusheditawayinthemiddleofthenight.
LasttimeIwokeuplikethiswithher,Isnuckoutwithmytailbetweenmylegs.Nosuchinclinationhitsmetodaythough.
Instead,Iliehereandbaskinthewarmpressofherbody,hersoftbreastspushedupagainstmychest,andherfingerssplayedoutoverthetattooIhaddonetoremindmeofher.
It’smyfavoritetattoo.
Formyfavoriteperson.
Icanstillfeelthewayherbodyclenchedaroundmyfingerslastnight.ThewayshegotwetterwhenImadeheradmitshethoughtaboutmewhileshewaswithsomeoneelse.
There’sdefinitelyapartofmethatgotoffonthattoo.Watchinghercomeapartwithhisringonherfingerwassatisfying.
Fucked-up.
Andsatisfying.
Aquietchucklerumblesinmychest,andSloanestirs.IswearIwatchawarenessovertakeher,everylimbcomingbacktolife,herhandjerkingoutfromundermyshirt.
“Ugh,”isthefirstthingshesaysasshepullsawayfromme.
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.“Nicetoseeyoutoo,Sunny.”
“Youandyourmultiplepersonalitiesarealreadygivingmeaheadache,Gervais.”Sheshootsmealookthatmightmakesomemenwither,butIjust…Idon’tthinkthere’sanythingshecoulddothatwouldscaremeoff.
“Ihearorgasmscanhelpwiththose,”Ivolleyback,refusingtobediscouragedbyhermood.
Shescoffs.Ormaybeit’salaugh.I’mnotsurebecauseshe’salreadygettingupandwalkingawaytothebathroom.Myeyestrailoverhertighttorsoandtheblackcottonshortsthatweresoeasilypulledtothesidelastnight.
MycockthickensasIwatchherroundasswalkaway.
ThismorningI’mfeelingeveryyearofourpent-upfrustrationandwonderingwhyIbotherresistingwheneverythingaboutusfeelssodamninevitable.23Jasper
Jasper:Anynews?
Harvey:Stillnothing.
Shedoesn’ttalktomeaswepackourthings.Shedoesn’ttalktomeinthecar.Shedoesn’ttalktometheentirewayoutofthemountainstoViolet’sfarminRubyCreek.
Sloaneturnstheradioupandstaresoutthewindow.RightnowIcanseeherdoingthesamethinginherheadshealwayssaysshecanseemedoing.She’sfreakingoutandIcan’tblameher.Ilaidalotonher.
Herdadbeingapieceofshit.
Mehidingmyfeelingsforher.
ThenImadehercomeonmyfingerswhilehavingheradmitshethoughtaboutmewhileshefuckedherfiancé.
Imighthavegonetoofarwiththatpart,butI’mirrationallypleasedaboutit.
Myjealoussidecameouttoplay,andIdidn’tholdhimbackatall.Ilethimdighisclawsin,andnowI’mworriedImighthaveembarrassedherintheprocess.
Shetoldmesomuch,andIgavehersolittleinreturn.
LikeIalwaysdo.
WhenweturnontotheroadthatleadstoGoldRushRanch,Icatchhercheckingherphonesinceneitherofushadreceptioncomingdowntheconnector.
Iwanttopeekoverandseewho’stextingher.Woodcockhasn’tstoppedandherdadhasn’teither.Butshe’splayingmadatmerightnow,soIdon’task.
Aswepulluptothesprawling,fancyracehorsetrainingfacility,Ichanceanotherlookather.Allthebloodhasdrainedfromherface,andhereyesarestucktothescreen,fingersuspendedaboveit,shaking.
Iglancebackattheperfectlypavedcirculardriveway,carefultoturnwideenoughthatIdon’tcatchacornerwiththetrailer.Thisplacelooksexpensivetofix.
WhereWishingWellRanchisallwoodposts,dirtroads,andrusticfinishings,thisplaceisglass,whitevinylfenceposts,moderntouchesallovertheplace.
There’safuckingchandelierhungovertheentrywaytothebarn.
AndbelowitisViolet.
Smiling.
Andsobbing.
AssoonasIputthevehicleinpark,sherunstothetruck,blotchyfacepoppingupbesidemeasshewrenchesthedooropen.
I’vebarelyputmyBlundstonesontotheasphaltwhenthewordsburstfromherlips.“Theyfoundhim!He’ssafe!”Safecomesoutasasob,andshelauncheshertinybodyatme,armstightonmyneckasIliftherofftheground.
Theyfoundhim.He’ssafe.
Theyfoundhim.He’ssafe.
Theyfoundhim.He’ssafe.
Thewordsechoinmybrain.IfIrepeatthemenoughtimes,theymightactuallysinkin.
IfeelthewetnessfromViolet’stears.ThelittlesisterIstillhave.Mychestcracksopen.BecauseI’vebeensofocusedonhowBeau’sdisappearancefelttome,Iforgottothinkabouteveryoneelse.
I’vebeenselfish.Sofuckingselfish.
“Theygothim.Theygothim,Jas.”
Myarmslockaroundherasshecriesintomyshoulder,myowneyesfilling.“Where?How?”Imurmuragainstherhair.
“Idon’tknow.We’veallbeentryingtocallyou,butitgoestovoicemail.Noreception,I’mguessing.AllIknowistheyfoundhimandhe’sgettingmedicalattention.I’msuredadwillhearmore.”
Webothsigh,andIslowlydrophertotheground.She’ssosmall,butsomehowlookseventinierrightnow.
Herheadturns,andsheseesSloanestandingatthefrontofthetruck,watchingus,tearsstreamingdownherface.“He’sokay?”Hervoicebreaksandherhandfliesovermouthtoholdbackthesob.
Violetnods,holdingherarmsopentohercousinforahug.Sloanefliestowardher,thetwowomenholdingeachotherandcrying.
Iwipemynoseandtipmyheaduptothesky,hopingthetearswellingmightleakbackintowherevertheycamefrom.
Theskyisperfectlyfuckingblue,likeSloane’seyes.Notacloudasfarastheeyecansee.Notforthefirsttime,IwonderwhatBeauislookingatrightnow.Brighthospitallights?Anaircraftcarrierofsomesort?Thebackofhiseyelids?
IseeCole,Violet’shusband,approachingus.Appearingalldarkandforeboding—butheisn’t.Well,unlessyou’rethedumbsuckerwhoslightedhiswife,thenhehasthesameswitchBeaudoesasamilitarymember.
Theswitchthatflipsandtheyturnintothemanwhocankillyouwiththeirbarehands.
HegivesmeanodashishandslidesoverthebackofViolet’shead,andIitchtotouchSloanewiththesamecomfort,thesamepossession.
Whenhiswifeturnsintohimanddisappearsintothecageofhisarms,it’sSloanewhoturnstolookupatme.
“He’sokay,”shesaysagain.
Inod,feelingmythroatgothickandthebridgeofmynosesting.
ShereachesformeatthesametimeIreachforher.Allthetensionbetweenuswashedawaybyhowdesperatelyweneedeachother.Oneofherhandsgripsmyshirtwhileherrightoneslidesinsidemyjacketandflattensoverthetattoo.Isqueezehertight,andwhenherforeheadpressestomychest,Idropmylipstothecrownofherhair.
Likealways.
“We’reallokay,”Ireplyroughlyagainstherhair.
Purereliefcoursesthroughmyveins.
Shenuzzlesagainstme,andInuzzleagainsther.Welatchontoeachotherlikewehaveforthebetterpartofourlives.
Becausenomatterwhatelseisgoingonintheworld,everythingisbetterwithherinmyarms.24Sloane
Sloane:Giveyourboyshugsfromme.Andyourselves.Ican’tbelieveit.
Summer:Ican’tstopcrying.I’msorelieved.We’resendinghugsbacktoyou.
Willa:I’llhugCadeforyouifyoubangJasperforme.
Sloane:WhenIbangJasper,I’mbanginghimformyself.
Summer:Ooooooo!
Willa:Possessive.Ilikeit.
Willa:Wait.DidyousayWHEN?!
I’mhappyandrungoutallatonce.I’mbackinahugetruck,butthistime,Violetisbehindthewheel.I’msittinginthefrontpassengerseat,andallthreeofherclosestfriendsareintheback.
Billie,whohasaknackformakingusalllaugh,proclaimedthatunloadinghayisa“boy”jobandweshouldallgogetwinetodrinkstraightfromthebottle.She’sabitscaryifI’mbeinghonest.
She’slikeWilla.
Oncrack.
Thenthere’sMirawithherblackhair,keeneyes,andaknowingsmirk.Ifeellikesheknowsallmydeepest,darkestsecretsjustbyglancingatme.
AndNadia,who’salittleyounger,issobeautifulIcan’tstopstaringather.It’slikeshestruttedrightoffaVictoria’sSecretrunwayandontothefarm.
TheychatterhappilyinthebackwhileVioletandIsitinacompanionablebutstunnedsilenceupfront.It’slikeIdidn’trealizehowmuchtensionIwascarryingoverBeauuntiltheweightlifted.
NowI’mhitwithafull-bodyexhaustionthatstretchesfromthetipsofmyfingerstotheendsofmytoes.Icouldsleepforaweek.
“Youokay?”Violetglancesatme,highponytailflippingoverhershoulderasshedoes.
“Yeah.”Isigh.“Justso,sotired.”
“Youguyshadalongjourney.”
“Thatwedid.”
Longdoesn’tevenbegintocoverit.
Asmiletugsatthecornerofherlips.“Ialwayswonderedwhenyoutwowouldnoticetheother.”
Myheadflipstoher.“Pardon?”
“YouandJasper.You’vebothbeensoinlovewitheachotherforsolong.Isawthathug.Plus,IsawthelookonhisfacethatdaywhenIfirstspilledthebeansaboutyourengagement.Andonyourweddingday?”Shesnorts.“Ithinkhewaslookingforareasontobargeinthereandbreakyouout.Pooremotionallystuntedidiotthatheis.”
Ijustblink,mindwhirring.“He’snotemotionallystunted.”IalwaysjumptodefendJasper,nomatterwhat.
Violethitsmewithasidelongglance.“Yeah,heis.Imarriedoneofthose,soIknowthemwhenIseethem.”
“Wait,”Nadiasays.“Aren’tyouguyscousins?”
Mira’sfingerwavesbackandforth.“No.He’stheadoptedbrother.”
IseeNadia’ssmileintherearviewmirror.“Fuck.That’shot.”
Igroanbutdon’tgetawordinedgewisebeforeBilliepipesup.“Youshouldfuckhim.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.Mybodyshakeswithitbecausethisscenarioisjusttoomuch.Emotionsaretoohigh.I’mdelirious.
Violetlaughstoo.“Billie,that’salwaysyouradvice.”
“Itried,”IsayfrombehindmyhandsbecausehidingwhileIadmitthisfeelseasier.“Hesaidweneededtotalkfirst.”
“Butsomethinghappened?”Violetcan’thidehercuriosity.Shealwayswasthechattygirl-talktype.
“Yes.”Ilowermyhands,staringattheroofofthetruck.“Somethinghappened.”
Billiehumsthoughtfullyfrombehindme.Likeshe’sabouttoofferprofoundadvice.“Youshoulddemandhefuckyou.”
Isnort,andadifferenttypeoftearswellinmyeyes.They’rethegoodkindthatcomefromlaughingandtryingtoholditback.Iglanceattherearviewmirrorintothebackseat.
“Itworkedforme,”Mirasayswithafelinesmileonherlips.
“Ew.Don’ttellmethesethingsaboutmybrother,please.”Nadiaturnsawayandstaresoutthewindow,alookofexaggerateddisgustonherface.“YoucoulddowhatIdidandjustdrivehiminsaneuntilhesnaps.”
Billiepipesupagain.“No.PullaViolet.Justsendhimnudes.”
Violetdoesn’tshyawayfromBillie’sstatementlikeshemighthavewhenshewasyounger.Instead,aproudsmiletouchesherfaceasshedrivesdownthesnowyroaduntilwepulluptoNeighbor’sPub,themostrun-downbarandliquorstoreI’veeverseen.Aflashingsignadvertises“COLDBEERANDWINE!!!”
Exclamationmarksandall.
ItfeelssuitablydingyfortheupdatedversionofmeI’mworkingon.
Ilikeitalready.
“OrjustdowhatIdidandmakehimsojealousheloseshismind,bangsonyourdoor,andthenbangsyouonthekitchencounter,’’Billieadds.
Ilaughharder,sodoeseveryoneelse,andwarmthflickersinmychest.I’dlovefriendshipslikethisinmylife.IthinkIcouldhavethemwithWillaandSummer.
Whenwepileoutofthetruck,moodslighterfromcrackingjokesaboutmyhotmessofapersonallifeandflamingdumpsterfireofafriendshipslashrelationshipslashlifelongcrushturnedwhothefuckknowswhat,Iask,“DoyouthinktheysellBuddyzBestBeerhere?”
“Fuckyes,theydo,”Billiecallsoverhershoulderassheheavesthewoodendooropen.
SuddenlyIdon’tfeelsobadabouteverythinganymore.EveryoneIloveissafeandcontent.Violethasahappylittlecrewhere.TheyfoundBeau.ThingsbetweenJasperandmearemessyrightnow,but…it’sus.
Wealwaysendupbacktogethersomehow.
Wejustneedtostopfightingit.
Mira’shusband,Stefan,cookedusamassive,gourmetmeal.OverdinnereveryoneinBillieandVaughn’sexpansivehouseclearlysharedmyfeelingofrelief.
Vaughncrackedjokesthatlightenedthemoodconsiderably.ColeandGriffinwerequietbutfriendly.Thesenseoffamilybetweenallthefriendswarmedmyheart.Wineflowedeasilyandsodidtheconversation.
Thediningroomwindowslookoutoverthepristinefarm,andallthekidshavecrashedoutintheenormous,sunkenlivingroomwhileaDisneymoviestillrollsonthescreen.
It’scozyandcomforting,andIcantellthisgroupofpeoplegetstogetherlikethisoften.There’salevelofcomfortbetweenthemIwanttocurlupin,butIstillfeelslightlyremovedfromitall.I’mstillaninterloperhere.
Itjustisn’tChestnutSprings.
IkeeppeekingatJasperacrossthetablefromme,wantingtoseehimsmile,wantingtoseehimlookingrelievedandhappyafterweeksofseeinghimlookdevastated.
He’snotwearingacaptonight,anditmakesitsoeasytoseeeveryexpressionthattoucheshisface.Iwanttoknowhe’sokay,butIstillquicklyglanceawaywhenhiseyeslockonmine.
Mycheeksheatandmyspinetingles,andmybrainplungesmebackintolastnightwhenheslidhisfingersbetweenmylegsandmademecomeharderthanIeverhave.
Itoldhimsomuchandhetoldmesolittle.Hestillheldbackandthatstung.I’vealwaysfeltlikeI’mhisperson,hissafeplacetoletitallout,butinthepastcoupleofdaysit’scometomyattentionthathestillkeepssomuchlockeduptight.
Hehasn’ttoldmeeverythingandthatshouldn’tmatter.Weallhavethosesecrets,Iguess.
Butitdoes.Iwanttoknow.Ialwayswanttobethepersonwhoknowsthemostabouthim.That’salwaysbeentheonethingI’vehadwithhimthatnootherwomancanclaim.
Imightnotknowhisbody.Imightnothavememorizedallhistattoos.ButIknowhisheart.I’mintimatelyfamiliarwithallthepiecesofithe’sgiventomeovertheyears.
Buttheyaren’tenough.
Iwanttherestofittoo.
Whenalullintheconversationhits,Istifleayawn.
Violet,sittingbesideme,patsmyknee.“Tired?”
Inod.“Yeah.ThinkI’mgoingtopackitinforthenight.”
“Okay.ItookyourbagstothelittleA-framecottagenearthecreek.Thatwaythekidswon’twakeyouatlikefiveinthemorning.”
“Perfect.”
Billieleansoverandwhispersinmyear,“ThatcottagehasbecomeknownastheLoveShackaroundhere.”
Violetgivesheranunimpressedlook.“That’swhatwecalleditwhenyouandVaughnlivedthere.”
Billieholdsherhandsupinsurrender.“Right.I’mjustsayingthere’sgood‘fuckme’jujuinthere.”
Ipushtostand,smilingattheirantics,butfreezeandglancedownatthesassybrunette.“Wait.Isthisthekitchencounterplace?”
Sheshrugswithaknowinggrin.“I’macleanfreak.Don’tworry.Isanitizedit.”
Irollmylipstogethertokeepfrombarkingoutalaugh,butJasperdrawsmyattentionfromacrossthetable.“I’llgowithyou.”Henodstothemenattheotherendofthetable.“Thankyoufordinner.Itwasexcellent.”
Therearehugsandgoodnights,buttheyallblendintotheheavypoundingofmyheartbecausewithinminutesit’sjustJasperandmewalkingonaquietfarmunderthedarknightsky.
We’vebeenherebefore.
Inthedarktogether.
Butit’sneverfeltquitelikethis.
Jasperentersthecodeintothelockonthedoor.Thetensionbetweenusissothickrightnowthatneitherofusevenlaughsaboutthatcodebeing6969.I’mtiredandwoundupallatonce.
WestepinsideandItoemyshoesoff,keepingmyeyestrainedonthefloor.Ishoweredandchangedatthemainhousewhenwearrivedbuthaven’tbeenintothiscottageyet.
It’sacozyopenconceptwithexposedwoodbeams.Iassumetheflightofstairsleadstoabedroom.Orbedrooms?I’mnotsurebecauseitdoesn’tseemlikethere’senoughspaceformorethanone.
Butnooneevenaskedusaboutthat.SoeithertherearedefinitelytwobedsormycousinandherfriendsareplayingmatchmakerinthefuckingLoveShack.
“Cutecottage,”IsayabsentlyasIlookaround.
Jasper’stightlycordedbackstrainsagainstthenavyT-shirthe’swearingashepourshimselfaglassofwaterfromthedispenseronthefridge.Itakeamomenttooglethebroadexpanseofhisshoulders,hisposturealwayssoimmaculate,andthewayittapersdowntohiswaist.
Tothatroundhockey-boybutt.
Itipmyheadupandstareattheceiling,allwoodenplanksandcrossbeams.Industrialwroughtironlightfixturesandafanhangaboveme,afunkycontrasttothePersianrugbeneathmyfeet.CushyleathercouchesfacethetallA-framewindows.
“YoumustbefeelingrelievedaboutBeau,”IsayrightasJasperturnsandleansagainstthekitchencounter.Iabsentlywonderifit’sthatcounterbutdecideagainstbringingituprightnow.
“Yeah.Willbegoodtoseehim.Hopefully,we’llgetmoreinformationfromHarveyoncehegetsthere.”
Inod.WefoundoutlaterinthedayHarveywasflyingoutEasttoamilitaryhospitalwheretheyhadtransferredBeausohecouldbewithhim.
“Arewegoingtostickaroundhereatall?Orheadstraightback?”
Hisheadtilts,andtheexpressionhegetswhenhe’sheadingoutontheicepaintshisfeatures.Thefocus.Theedge.Thenarrowedgaze.
“Idon’tknow,Sloane.Whatdoyouwant?”
Isighheavily,rollingmyshouldersbackandholdingmyheadhighwhereIstandnearthefrontdoor.“Foronce,Iwouldlikeyoutotellmewhat’sgoingoninyourhead.I’mtired,Jasper.Tiredofguessing,tiredoftiptoeingaroundeveryoneelse’sfeelings,tiredofgivingsomuchandgettingsolittleback.Andnotjustfromyou,fromeveryone.Canyoujusttellmesomethingrealforonce?Whatareyoufeeling?Whatisourplan?Arewestayinghere?Orarewedrivingback?It’sreallynotcomplicated.Andsinceyou’retheoneonatimelinewiththeteam,I’mgoingtoassumethatyouhaveaplan.Becauseyoualwaysdo.”
HeglaresatmesoIkeepgoing.“Youjust,asusual,don’tfeeltheneedtotalkaboutit.”Iwaveahandinfrontofme,frustrationbleedingintomytone.“Oranything,forthatmatter.Iguessit’smuchbetterforyoutokeepeverythinglockedinsideandthenblind-sidemewithallofyourshitatonce.So,like,canIhaveaheads-uporsomething?”
Iwatchhisjawpop,fingersclenchedaroundtheglassofwater,forearmripplingashesqueezesit.Westareeachotherdown,andIdiveintothoseeyesIknowsowell,willinghimtosaysomething.I’vespentyearsmonologuingwhilehelistens,butI’mdonewithplayingthatroleforhimnow.Frustrationsimmersinmychestbeforeleapingout.
“Ohmygod,Jasper!Fuckingsaysomething!”
“IfeellikeIcouldcrumbleundertheweightofnotwantingtodisappointyou.I’mparalyzedbymyfearoflosingyou.
Hiswordssuckalltheairoutoftheroom.Likeapunchstraighttothegut.Irememberfallingoffthetireswingontheranchasachildandgaspingforbreath.
Hewasthere…rubbingmybackandtellingmetostaycalm.
Iopenmymouthtorespond,buthecutsmeoff.
“Thethoughtofneedingyouthisbadlyandlettingyoudown.”Hedropsmygaze,shakinghishead.“Itfuckingkillsme.”
“You’renevergoingtoloseme,”Iwhisperback,itchingtorushforwardandtouchhimbutwantingtogivehimspace.Idon’twanthimtocornerhimorsmotherhim.
“Ialmostdidloseyou.”Hetakesacoupleofstepsforward,andIthinkhe’sgoingtocometome.Butheplacestheglassofwateronthemarbleislandbeforeproppinghishandsthere,likethatislandistheonlythingkeepinghimfrommovingacrosstheroomtowardmeagain.
Asthoughhe’sfightingtokeephimselfawayfromme.
“Onthatmountainrunawaylane.Toyourdad’smaneuvering.Tohim,”headds,eyesdroppingtotheringonmyfinger,theonethatclearlydidnotpreventmefromcrossingthatlinewithJasperatall.
“Thenfuckingtakemebackalready!I’vebeendreamingofyouforliteralyearsandneverknewyousawmeasanythingotherthanafriend.”HeflinchesbutI’mdoneholdingback.“I’vebeenlickingthosewoundsforsodamnlong,Jasper.Andyou’vebeentoochickenshittosayanything.Sosayitalready.Tellmewhatyouwant!”
Hegroansanddropshisheadforabeatbeforelevelingmewithhismidnightstare.“That’swhatIwant.That’swhatIgetoffon.Tellingyouwhattodoandhavingyoulisten.Control.”Hischeeksflushbrightunderhisstubble.“I’vetriednotto.Butwitheverythingthat’shappenedinmylife,it’sjustbecome…”Herunsanagitatedhandthroughhishair.“Partofme.ButIdon’twantyoutodosomethingthatmakesyouuncomfortablejusttogivemethat.That’snotwhatyouneed.It’snotwhatIwantforyou.Iseeyou.Iseewhatyou’vebeenthrough.I’veseenthesemeninyourlifetellingyouwhattodo,usingyouasapawn.AndIdon’twanttobeanotherassholetellingyouwhattodo.”
Arousalunfurlsinmygut,heatleechingoutintothetipofeverylimb.“Don’tyougetit,Jas?I’veseenallthedarkestpartsofyouandI’mstillhere.Istillwantmore.Stoptryingtoscaremeaway.Itisn’tgoingtowork.”
Helookspainednow.
“Idon’twanttobeanothermanwho—”
Myhandslashesoutinfrontofme,andIcuthimoff.“Youtalkaboutnottellingmewhattodo,thatyoudon’twanttoletmedown,butI’msickofbeingtreatedlikeI’mtoofragileortoopristine.Idon’twanttobeadamselindistress!Sostoptreatingmelikeone.I’mnotatrophy.Youaren’ttellingmetodoanything!I’mtellingyouIwantyoutotakeme,andyou’resittinghere,pattingmyheadlikeI’mstupid,tellingmeIdon’tknowwhatIwant.IfIdon’tlikesomething,Iwillfuckingtellyou.Butfortheloveofgod,stopdecidingwhatIlikeordon’tlike.WhatIcanorcannotendure.Whatfeelsgoodordoesn’t.Stopholdingbackwithme.”
MybreathingislaboredbythetimeIfinish.Sayingwhat’sonmymindfeelsgood.Ifeelempoweredandfrustratedand…alive.
“HowmanytimesdoIneedtotellyouforyoutobelieveme?BeforeIgettohearitback?”IshakemyheadindisbeliefatthismanIknowsodamnwell,yetnotatall.“It’salwaysbeenyou,Jasper.Itwillalwaysbeyou.”
Isighheavily.“Pleasetellmewhattodowiththat.”25Jasper
IlistentoSloane,allfierceanddetermined,layingintomeandbeingsodamnright.
She’stellingmetotakewhatIwant,takingwhatshewants,andthere’snothingholdingmeback.They’vefoundBeau.I’llbeabletogetbacktotheteam.TheonlythingleftunfinishedisSloaneandme.
TherestraintinsideofmesnapsasIstarebackather.Chestheaving.Cheeksflushed.It’slikeashoelacetuggedtoofuckingtight.I’vebeenpullingbacksohardthatmysteadyhandfliesbackwiththeweightofmyresistance.
Fair,unfair.Appropriate,inappropriate.Itallfadesawayunderthesimmeringrageandarousalofsomanymissedyearswiththiswoman.Wecameclosetomissingsomuchmore.
Idon’twanttomissanothersecond.Andshetoldmetostopholdingback.
MyvoicecomesoutharshandgravellywhenIsay,“Takeyourclothesoff,Sloane.”
Shestartleseversoslightly,buthertopteethsinkintoherbottomlip,andIknowshewantsthisjustasbadlyasIdo.
IpushmyselfbackintothecountertopbehindmesothatIhaveabetterviewacrosstheopenlivingspace,feelingthebiteoftheedgeagainstmypalms.Ifthisiswhatshewants,Iplantotakemytime.
Iplantosavorher.
IfSloanesaysshecanhandleme,thenshe’sright…WhoamItotellhershecan’t?
Sheflicksopenthetopofherbaggyjeansanddropsthemaroundherslenderanklesbeforesteppingoutofthem.Thosecrystalblueeyesdon’tleavemineforasinglesecond.Holdingmygaze,sheunbuttonsthesoftflannelshirtshe’swearing,lightpinkandcreamplaidfallingopentoexposetheunpaddedpinklacebralettehuggingherbreasts.
Irakemyeyesoverherlong,leanlimbs.PinkscrapsofnothingcovertheplaceswhereIplantospendtheentirenight.
Whentheshirtclearsherwristsandfallstothefloorbehindher,asmirktouchesherlips.Shestandstherenotlookingtheleastbitself-conscious.
Infact,thewayhertongueslidesoverherlipstellsmeshe’snothingshortofeager.
There’sanalluringblushtoherpalecheeks,andherskin,litonlybythefloorlampinthecorner,hasagoldenglow.
“Allofthem.”Igestureahanddownherbody,watchingtheflushcreepoverhercollarbonesandtowardhernipplesthatarepushingagainstthedelicatefabric.
Whensheremovesthebralette,Idon’tbotherpretendingI’mnotstaringatherbody.Herbreastsareperfect,smallandperky,withpale,duskynipplespointingstraightatme.Beggingformyattention.
Igroanatthesightandwatchherthighsclamptogether.Herstomachclenches.
“Ibetyou’refuckingsoaked,”Imurmur,watchingherthumbshookintothewaistbandofthematchingpanties.
Shetiltsherheadandgivesmeacoyshrug.Mydicktwitches.
Whenherpantiesaredownaroundherankleswheretheybelong,Iperusemywaybackupherlegs,pausingonherpussyandtheglimmerofwetnessbetweenhersoftlips.“You’reperfect.”
“Thankyou,”shewhispersback,breathless.
Ilickmylipsandadjustmyselfinmypants.Thisispuretorture,butIthinkwebothlikeit.We’rebothabouttheanticipation.Thetenfeetthatstillseparateuspracticallyhumwithit.
“Useonefinger—onlyone—andshowmehowwetyouare,Sloane.”
Herchestrisesandfallswhilehereyesremainlatchedontomyface.Arousaliswrittenalloverher,andthelittlevoiceinmyheadthattoldmeshemighthatemeifIrevealedthisdomineeringsideofmyselfstaysblissfullyquiet.
Iseeasparkleinhereye.Nohesitation.Instead,achallenge.
Herhandslidesdownherstomach,andwithaquietmoan,shepushesoneslenderfingerintoherpussy.
Itslipsrightin,confirmingwhatIalreadyknew.Secondslatersheholdsonetremblinghandup,indexfingersoakedwithherarousal.
“Areyounervous?”
“No.Godno,”isherresponse.
“Good.Nowputthatfingerinyourmouthandcleanitoff.”
Alight,disbelievingchuckleescapesher,andIcan’thelpbutcrackasmile.Onlyshewouldlaughrightnow.Assheturnsherpalmtowardherface,showingmethebackofherhand,thesmilemeltsfrommyface.Becausemyeyescatchonaflashoflightattachedtoherfingerassheslidesitbetweenherlips.
Myfingersgripthecounterbehindme,tothepointofpain,whileItrytoholdbackthegreen-eyedmonster.
ButIfail.
“Sloane.”
“Mm-hmm,”shehums,stillsuckingonherfinger,givingmebluedoeeyes.
Iwanttoaskherhowittastes.
Instead,Isnap.
Ipointatthefloorbeneathmyfeetandsay,“Losethatfuckingringandcrawl.”
Hermouthpopsopen,handfallingdown,andherlashesflutterafewtimesassheprocesseswhatIjustsaid.
Butshedoesn’thesitate.Shesmirks.
Sheyankstheringoffherfingerandtossesitacrosstheroombeforedroppingtoherknees.Ithoughtshe’dfalter.Ithinkthere’sapartofmethatthoughtIcouldprovetomyselfIwasrightandshe’dhatemeforthis.ThatIcouldpushhertoofarandshe’dtellmetofuckoff.
Butherhandscometothefloor,andshecrawlsforme.Thesmallhouseisdeadsilentasherbodymoveswithsuchinherentgrace,likethere’smusicplayinginherhead.
“Likethis?”Herheart-shapedlipscurveupseductivelyastonedarmsstretchoutbeforeher,andIhavetoblinkafewtimestobelievewhatI’mseeing.She’sfelineinhermovements,notshyatall.Butshe’sspentyearsperformingonstage.
Softandquietdoesn’thavetomeanshy.
Andmygirldoesn’tlookshyatfuckingallrightnow.
“Yes,”Igrowl,mybodycoilingtighteratthesight.Whenshegetscloseenoughtokneelatmyfeet,myentirebodyshakeswithrestraint.
Andforwhat?
She’sstilllookingupatmelikeIhungthemoon.
Likeshealwayshas.
“Fuck,Sloane.”Thesightofherstrippedbarebelowmefeelssogoodit’salmostunbearable.Iletgoofthecounteranddroptoacrouch,grippingherchinandsearchinghereyesforanyglimpsesofdiscomfort,butallIseeisneed
Myoppositehandslipsbetweenherthighs,fingerspushingthroughherwetfoldsgently.She’ssoaked.
Shewhimpersbutdoesn’tdropmygaze,soIcontinueplayingwithhercunt.Idon’tpushin,justtease.Iwatchhersquirm,herhipstryingtobuckagainstmyhand.
Butsheplaysthegamesoperfectly.Shejuststaysthereandletsmeexplore
“Didyoulikecrawlingforme?”Iask.
Shesmiles,butthere’saflashofsadnessinhereyes.Aninstantshottomychest.“Jasper,itfeelslikeI’vebeencrawlingafteryouforyears.Thisisnothingnewforme.”
HerwordsstrikeablowIdidn’tseecoming.
MyfingersstopmovingandIcupherhead,whisperingthewords,“I’msorry,”inacrackedvoice.Ipressmylipstohers,fallingtomykneesforher.“God.I’msofuckingsorry.”
Itakehermouth,clutchinghernakedbodytome,wishingIcouldgobackintimeandtellhereverythingwhenIfirststartedfeelingit.ButI’llsettleforrightnowsinceit’sthebestI’vegot.
Thekissstartsoffwithusclampingourmouthstogether,needingtobejoined,butquicklyturnsfrantic.Ittakesonanedgeoffrustrationasherteethnipatmybottomlipandherhandsgrapplewiththehemofmyshirt.
It’spulledoffanddiscardedwithinseconds.AndthenI’mstanding,liftinghersmallbodywithmeandtakingacoupleofstepsacrossthekitchen.
Withoneswipeofmyarm,everythingontheislandfliesontothefloorwithaloudclatter.Fruit.Abowl.Amagazine.Myglassofwaterlandsontheoppositesideoftheroomandshattersintoathousandtinypiecesagainstthehardwoodfloor.Theperfectlycleancottageturnedupsidedowninmereseconds.
Noneofthatshitmattersbecauselegswraparoundmywaist.Lipspepperkissesallovermyface,downmyneck.Fingerstugatmyhair.She’sattackingmewithafervorI’veneverexperienced.
OneI’veneverfeltinclinedtomatchuntilher.
Sexhasalwaysbeenagame.Anothereventformetocontrol.Butthere’snothingincontrolaboutusrightnow.
AndIdon’tevencare.
Ilieherbackontheisland,wantingtoexploreher.Shehissesandherbackarchesawayfromthecoldmarble,pushingherperfecttitsupintheprocess.
Idon’tknowwheretolookfirst,butlikealways,it’shereyesthatcatchmyattention.Allthoseblues.Mygazetravelsdowntheslenderlineofherneckanddetourstothestraystrandsofsoftblondehairthatareplasteredtoherwet,puffylips.
Myhandsslideoverherwaist,shapingit,andIrevelinhowbigmyhandslookwrappedaroundher.Icupherbreasts,theperfectsizetogrip.
Isqueezeandflickathumboverherpointednipples,notingthewayherbackarchesagainwhenIdo.“Youlikethat?”
“Yesss,”shehisses,eyesclosednow,tonguedartingoutoverherlipsinthemostdistractingway.Ican’twaittoseehowtheylookwrappedaroundmycock.
Butfirst,Ikeepslidingmyhandsupherbody,notingthewaygoosefleshcropsupinmywake.WhenIgettohershoulders,Itracefingersoverthelineofhercollarbonewhiletheotherhadcontinuesmovingupandwrapsaroundthatpretty,slenderthroat.Thewayshecarriesherselfisalwayssoregal.
I’vedreamedaboutwrappingahandhere.
SoIdo.
Isqueeze,butnottoohard,leaningdownoverher,givingthelobeofherearaquicknipbeforeasking,“Whataboutthat,Sloane?Doyoulikethat?”
“Yes.”
Hersureresponseisashotofelectricitystraighttomycock.Myfingerspressabitharder,andIwatchhercheeksturnasoftred.Herlegsclamptighteraroundmywaist.Ieaseoffanddropmylipstohers,strokinghernecksoftlybeforeIkissmywaybackdowntoherbreasts.Hernailsslideupmyback,overmyshoulders,anddownmyarmsreverently.
Istartsoftwithonenipple,lickingandkissing,gettingoffonthewayshemoansandsquirms.Thewayhernailsdigintomyskin—justalittlebitferal.
AndthenIgiveitonehardpull,grazingmyteethasIgo.It’sthewayshegaspsandbucksthatreallygetsme.
“Sosensitive,”Imurmur,movingtotheothersideandgivingherthesametreatment.Igethercomfortableandthenlayinwithalittlepressure.Alittlebite.
Hernailstangleinmyhairandscratchatmyscalp.
ThenI’mlickingmywaydownherstomach.ShesquirmsasIslidemytonguejustbeneaththelineofherhipbone,soIspendextratimeexploring.WhenIdragmyteeththere,shemakesawhiningnoise.
Iplantapalminthemiddleofherchestandpressherdown.“Liestill,Sloane.Letmeenjoymyself.”
“Fuckyou,Jasper,”shehuffsandwigglesharder.
Ichuckleandmovemyhandbackaroundherneck.“Youwillbe,Sunny.JustnotuntilIsayso.”26Sloane
Imakethatsamedamnnoisewhenhemovestotheoppositehip.Ineverknewthiswasasensitivespotforme,butJasperhomedinonitinstantly.Mypulsethumpsunderthepalmofhishand.Itspeedsupwhenhisteethdragovermyhipbone,andhisgriparoundmythroattightenseverytimeImove.
Heatsuffuseseverylimb.Mypulsethrumseverywhere.I’veneverfocusedentirelyononethingexceptforwhenI’mdancing.ButIamnow.Myminddoesn’twandertomyto-dolistorthenextepisodeofmyfavoriteshow.ItstaysonJasperandthewayhe’splayingmybodylikeaninstrumenthe’sknownhisentirelife.Likeavirtuoso.
AsmuchtimeasI’vespenthavingsexwithJasperinmyhead,Ididn’texpecthimtodothingstomeI’veonlyreadabout,orwatched,butneverhadthenervetoaskfor.NotsuretheboysIdatedwouldhaveindulgedmeanyway.
ButJasperisn’taboy.He’saman.
Hishandmovesawayfrommythroat,andIalmostwanttobeghimtoputitback.Hetrailsitdownthecenterofmybody,thentapsonmyhipboneandsays,“Nowspreadtheseprettythighsforme.”
MyheartrateratchetsupwhenIcatchhiseyeinthesoftlylitkitchen.
He’snotbroodingJasperrightnow,andhe’snotsweetJaspereither.
He’s…Idon’tknow.Idon’trecognizethislook,butIlikeit.Iloveit.Iespeciallylovebeingonthereceivingendofit
Withoutanotherthought,Iunlatchmylegsfromaroundhiswaist.I’dbeenholdinghimtomeforfearhemightpullawayagain,butitfeelslikewe’vemovedpastthatphasetonight.
Itfeelslikehe’sseeingmeinadifferentlight.
Ipushawayanyshredsofshynessandopenmylegs,baringmyselftohim.Pantinganddripping.
I’mreadytobeghimtotouchmewhenhisbig,warmpalmslandonmyinnerthighs,smoothinguptheinsidestowardmykneesandpushingmefurtheropen.
“Sofuckingflexible.”Histhumbsbrushagainstmyskin,andIswearIcouldcomejustfromhimrunninghishandsalloverme.
I’mreadytoexplodeandwe’vebarelydoneanything.
“Sofuckingpretty.”Hisdarkblueeyesdragovermybodylikefingertips,theirsmolderingweightgrazingovermyskinashepullsmeuptositting.“Areyouonbirthcontrol,Sloane?”Heholdsmythighsopen,staringbetweenthem.Makingmesquirm.
“Yes,”Ihiss.“Yes.IUD.”Apparently,I’mmonosyllabicrightnow.
“Anythingelseyouneedtotellme?”Iknowwhathe’sasking.He’stryingtoaskitdelicately.He’sbeingresponsible,butithitsanerveallthesame
Isitup.“Idon’tknow,Jasper.Whydon’tyoutellme?You’retheonewho’salwaystraipsingaroundwithdifferentwomen.”
Hisfingerspulseonmylegs,andhiseyessnaptomine.Aknowinggrintoucheshislips.“Ilikeyouwithyourclawsout,Sloane.”Hepicksmyhandsupfromwherethey’replantedagainstthecounterandplacesoneoneachofmyknees.“Isthisuncomfortable?Sittinghere?”
Uncomfortable?Ishekiddingme?Idon’tevenknowwhatcomfortisanymore.AllIcanthinkaboutiscomingwithhishandsonme.“No.”
“Good.”Helickshislipsashestaresdownatme,bitingdownonhisbottomliptostifleagrin.“Staylikethat.”
Andthenheturnsand…walksaway.
Iflipmyheadtowatchhim.Readytosnapathim.“Whatthe—”
“IwasabouttotellyouI’veneverhadsexwithoutacondom,Sloane.”Hebendsdownandpicksthebowlupoffthefloor.“Iwasabouttotellyoutheonlywayyou’dlookprettierwaswithmycuminthattightlittlecunt.”
“Jesus,”Imutter,feelingablushovertakemyentirebody.
Hecasuallypicksupabananaandputsitinthebowl,followedbyacoupleofapplesthatmustbebruisedtoshitnow.“Butyouhadtomakethatsnarkylittleremark.Ajealouslittledig.Sonowyoucanwait.”
Heshakeshishead,andmyhandstrembleonmyknees.Whoknewsittinghereexposed—waitingforhimtofuckme—couldactuallymakemehotter.
Istarttopant,andhepicksupabroomanddustpanfromthecorner,carefullysweepingupthebitsofglassbehindwhereI’mseated.
“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”Iask,almostlaughingathowinsanethisis
“Can’thavemygirlsteppingonglass,canI?”Heswoopsdownandsucksonmyneckwhileheadingtothegarbage.HardenoughIknowitwillleaveamark.
Ithoughtmyheartwasracingbefore.Butnow?Nowitmayhavestoppedaltogether.
Hewasheshishandsinthekitchensinkbeforehecomesback,toweringoverme,allshredsofplayfulnessgone.
Hebendsdownandkissesthetopofmyshoulder.“I’vespentalongtimethinkingIdon’tdeserveyou,”hewhispers.Bendingfurther,hislipsmovetothetopofmyhandthat’sstillclaspedovermyknee.“Thatyou’retoogoodforsomeonelikeme.”
“Jasper.”Ireachoutandcuphischeekwithmyhand,oneleghookinghimbacktomeashestandsupstraight.Whenhe’ssayingthingslikethisIwanttoseehiseyes.Idon’treallygiveafuckaboutfollowinghisorders.
There’snoreproachthough.Instead,hetiltshisheadintomytouch,andhisbig,warmbodyfoldsaroundmine.
“Idon’tthinkIsufferfromthatwayofthinkinganymore.SuddenlyIdon’treallycareaboutdeservingyouwhenit’ssodamnclearyoubelongtomeandalwayshave.”
Heturnshisheadandpressesakissintothecenterofmypalmandmovesbackdownmybodyashemethodicallylaysmeflatonthecoolcounteragain.Myrock-hardnipplesriseandfallasIbreathehard.Heleansdowninfrontofmyspreadpussy,pushingmefurtheracrossthecounterashepullseachofmylegsoverhisshoulders.
Darkbluesstillonbabyblues.
“But,Sloane?”
“Yeah?”Ireplyinstantly,pushingupontomyelbowstobetterseehim.
“I’mdonesharing.”
Thenhisheaddropstomypussy,andhemakesmeseestarswitheveryperfectlyplacedlick,everygrowlvibratingthroughmybody.Eventhepadsofhisfingersdiggingintomythighsmakemewild.Hishandsneverstopmoving,exploring—drivingmeinsane.
Ithrashagainstthehardmarblewhenhesucksmyclitintohismouthfirmly.Histongueworkingsoftly,andthenflickingsharply.Slidingstraightintomeashefucksmewithit.Headdstwofingers,curlingthemupintoaspotI’veonlyreachedwithatoy.ButJasper?Hefindsitonthefirsttry,shovingmetowardrelease.Justasteamtrainbarrelingdownatracktoecstasy.
Therushofitallflushesthroughmybody.
“Jasper,I’mgoingto—”
Hepullsaway.Mouthgone.Handgone.Bodyaching.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iwhine,tippingmyheadbackinfrustration.
Hesmirksatme,lickinghislipspurposefullyashepushestostandaboveme.Hishandsareatthebuttononhisjeans,casuallypoppingitopenanddroppingthezipper.Iseewhatlookslikeapainfulerection,readytobustthroughthedarkdenim.
“Makingyouwait,”herespondsasheshucksthemoffandrubshiscockthroughthefabricofhisboxers.
Iclenchandreleaseatthegravelinhistone,andhisgazedropsbetweenmylegs.
“Why?”MyvoiceisbreathywhenIreachdowntotouchmyself.HiseyesflareasIcirclemyclitshamelessly.
Heallowsmetogetawaywithitforafewsecondsbeforeheliftsmyhandandsucksthatnaughtyfingerintohismouth.Withaloudpop,hepullsitout.“BecauseIliketowatchyousquirm.Iliketomakeyouwait.”
Hetugshisboxersoffand…myeyesarestuck…latchedontohislong,hardlength.
IwishIhadsomethingcoolandsexytosayaftereverythinghe’stoldmetonight.Buthisdickhasquiteliterallyrenderedmespeechless.
“Somethingyouwannatellme,Sunny?”
“You’resofuckinghot,”iswhatIblurt.
OnlyJasperGervaiswouldhaveabodylikeatitan,afacelikeamodel,andacocklikeapornstar.
Withadeepchuckle,herunsthefatheadupanddownmyslit,takingafewextrasecondstopresshardagainstmyclit.Ibitedownonmyliptokeepfrommoaning,fromsoundingtoodesperate.
Iwatchhimrunhiscockallovermypussy.Fistingitfirmly.Teasingmewiththetip.Pushingitin,watchingmybodystretchforhim,andpullingitbackout.
“Youwantmetofuckyou,Sloane?”
“Yesss,”Ihissout.
Heliftshisthickcockupandslapsitbackdownlewdlyonmywetcore.“Askpolitely.”
“You’vegotsomenerve,Gervais,”Isay,goinghotallover.
Hequirksabrowasiftosay,Goon.AndIdidn’tmakeitthisfartobackdownnow,sowithouthesitationIsay,“Yes,please.”
Myentirebodyisonehugeheartbeat.Justapulsecoveredbydesperateflesh.I’veneverfeltsowantonandI’veneverfeltsodesired.
Likewe’retwooppositeendsofamagnet,there’snoresistingthepull.Thereareforcesbeyondusatworknow,andwe’reattheirmercy.
Maybeit’sscience.
Maybeit’sfate.
ButwhenJasperslideshimselfinsidemeandmurmurswithaplayfulsmile,“Suchapolitegirl,”allIknowisthatit’sright.
We’reright.
MylashesflutterdownasIstruggletoaccommodatehissize.Mylegsshakeastheywraparoundhiswaistandlatchtogetheroverhisfirmass.
Hishandsstartonmythighsandslidesensuallyupovereverycurvewhilehe’sseatedinsideofme.Fingerspulseovermybreasts,andhishipsshoveforwardeventhoughhe’sasfarinashecanget.Hisarmswraparoundmyribcage,andhepullsmeuptohim,handssplayingpossessivelyovermybackasthefullnessinsidemeshifts.
“Jasper,it’stoomuch,”Imurmur,droppingmyforeheadagainsthischest.
Heplantsakissagainstmyhairandpullsout,likehe’sgoingtograntmesomereprieve.Hisheaddropsbesidemyear,andhewhispers,“Youcantakeit,”rightbeforedrivingbackin.
“Ohgod!”Icalloutasheworkshimselfinandout.Nottoofast,butnottooslow.Everymovementismeasured—controlled—andwithhim,ofcourse,itis.
Hiscareer.
Hismentalgame.
Hisprotectivestreak.
Histrauma.
Itallmakessomuchsense.
“Fuck,Jasper!”Igaspasheworksmeover.Hekissesmehard.Hebringsmetotheedgeandpullsusbothback.Ilethimtakecareofmethewayheneedsto,andIrevelinit.Itrusthimsoimplicitly.Itcomessoeasily.
Ibaskinhisattention,inthewayhishandsmoveovermyskin,thewayhislipsfitsoperfectlyagainstmine,thewayhechantsmynameinmyearashemovesagainstme.Hipsslammingroughlymakingaslappingnoiseagainstmyassforseveralsecondsbeforeeasingoffandrenderingmesenselesswithslow,deepstrokesthatkeepthepressureinmycorebuildinginthemostdeliciousway.
“You’resofuckingperfect,”hemurmurs.“Sofuckingtight.”
ItfeelslikeI’mridingwavesintheocean,mybodysoftandrelaxed,thewhitenoiseofwatertumblinginmyearsaccompaniedbyhisdeep,rumblingsofworship.
Mybodyfeelsmorehisthanmine,andI’mentirelyatpeacewiththatnotion
Icanfeeleveryridge,everyvein,everypulseofhiminsideme.Anditmakesmewild.Iscratchathim,mynailsrakingagainsthisback.Urginghimtogivememore.Ibiteathim.I’mdownrightferalwithmyneedforhim.
“Closer.Deeper.More,”Ibeg,andhegivesmeeverythingIaskforandmore.Eyesalwayscomingbacktomine,watchingmesodamnclosely.Cataloguingeverylittlemotion,everygaspofpleasure.
LearningmeasIlearnhim.
“Jasper…”Imoanashecarefullyliesmebackdownonthechillymarble,handsroamingreverently,flutteringovermythroatforamomentbeforeshiftingdowntomyhips.“Pleasedon’tstop.I’msoclose.”
Myhandswraparoundhisveinedforearms,andmyeyessweepoverhisperfectlydefinedtorso.It’sdottedwithperspirationandgoestauteverytimehishipsflexforwardintome.
Heglancesdownatmylefthandbeforehittingmewiththatintenseeyecontactofhisagain.“Tellmeyou’remine,Sloane.”Histhrustsslow,andthelookhegivesmeshowsaflashofinsecurity.
Onethatdoesn’tneedtobethere.
WithouthesitationIsaythewords.“I’myours,Jasper.Ialwayshavebeen.”
Satisfactionflaresinhisdarkirises,andheunleashesonme,onehandslippingdowntorubmyclitwhilehefucksmehardenoughtomakemybodyslideandstickagainstthemarble.
“Andyoualwayswillbe,”hegruntsoutaswecombust,eachofusbelongingmoretotheotherthantoourselvesasIfeelhimjerkandspillhimselfinsideme.27Jasper
Idropbackdownoverherperfectfuckingbody,draggingsoft,messykissesoverhersweat-slickedchest.Iworktogetmyvisionstraight,blinkingandwillingmyheartratetoevenout.
AllmyhottestsexualfantasieshavefeaturedSloane.
Andnoneofthemwereashotastherealthing.
Herfingerscombthroughthebackofmyhair.“It’sashamethatI’vepeakedatonlytwenty-eight,”shebreathesoutraggedly.“I’msureeverysexualexperiencewillbedownhillafterthat.”
Ichuckleagainstheranditvibratesthroughherbody.Ilovefeelingthisconnectedtoherrightnow.LikeIcouldsendhersubliminalmessagesandshe’djustknow.
“Sunny,we’reonlygettingstarted.”Ipullaway,andmycockslipsfromherheat.Arushofcumfollows,spillingout.Holdinghergazeforabeat,Ireachdownanduseonefingertoslideitbackin.MycockhardensasIworkher,practicallyreadytogoagainwhenshewhimpersandclenchesaroundme.
Istand,wantingtoseeherrightnow.Notjustbeingmine,butreallylookinglikemine.
Myeyesrakeoverherbody,allsplayedoutforme.Mystubbleburnonherchest.Mycuminsideher.AndIsmirk,feelingincrediblysatisfiedwiththemesswe’vemade.
“Fuck,”shehuffsout,eyesflutteringshut,asIcontinuetoslidemyfingerinandoutofher.
“Isthatarequest,Sloane?”
Herlipsquirkup,hermesmerizingblueeyestakingonadreamy,farawaylookthatIwanttogetlostin.“No,Jasper.It’sademand.”
Iimmediatelyreachforher,pullherintome,andliftherupinmyarms.“Whatevermygirlwants,”IrumbleagainstherhairasIcarryherintothelivingroom.
ThenIdrophertothecouch,putheronallfours,anddragherassupintopositionbeforegivingintoallofherdemands.
Repeatedly.
IexpectedtowakeupwithSloane’sheadpressedtomychest.Instead,Iwakeupwithhernakedandstraddlingme,runningherhandsallovermychest,herperfecttitswiththisalluringlittleC-shapebeneaththem.
“Eyesuphere,Gervais.”Herfingerspinchandgivealittletugtothehaironmychest,drawingmyattentiontoherface.
“Wasn’ttryingtofindyoureyes,Winthrop.”Ishootherawickedgrin,onethatdoesn’tcomeouttoplaymuch.
ItdawnsonmethatIdon’tsmilemuch,period.Don’tusuallyfeelinclined.ButwithSloane,theycropupoutofnowhere.There’saspecialpowerinbeingabletomakeapersonsmilejustbyexisting.
“Pig,”shehuffs,droppingherchinshylyandgoingbacktotracingthelinesofmytattooswithherfingers.
“I’vespentyearsgettinglostinyoureyes,Sloane.Therestofyouthough?It’sallnew.IimaginethisiswhatgoingtoDisneylandforthefirsttimeislike.Overstimulating.”
“Myboobsare—”
“Perfect,”Icutheroff,catchingtheself-deprecatinglooksheshootsdownatherself.
Sloanerollshereyesandpauses.“Wait,you’veneverbeentoDisneyland?”Onehandshootsuptocoverhermouth,andhereyesgowide,likeshespokebeforethinkingabouthowmychildhoodplayedout.Evenbeforethatday,expensivefamilyvacationsweren’tinthecardsforus.“Shit,I’msorry.”
“Don’tbe.ImuchpreferthisversionofDisneyland.Nowaitinginline.Therideisallmine.”Ireachup,gentlypalmingherbreastsbeforeslidingonehandunderthesheetsandlandingaslaponherass.“DoesCinderellahaveanasslikethis?BecauseunlessshedoesI’mnotinterested.”
Ashysmilegracesherlips,andhersofthairbrusheshercollarbonesasshestaresdownatme.Sunblazesinfromtheskylightaboveher,makingherglow.
Notforthefirsttime,I’mstruckbythefeelingthateverythingfeelsdifferentbetweenus.Andyetthesamesomehow.There’snoawkwardness.There’snotthatsensationthatusuallyhitswhereIwanttobealone.
I’dratherjustliehereandstareather.
“Hi,Sunny.”Myhandslandonherhips,holdinghergently,fingerstrailingoverthedipsatthebaseofherspine.
“Hi,Jas.”Herfingerssplayovertheballerinatattooonmyribs,andwestareateachotherforafewbeats.“Whatarewegoingtodotoday?”
“Whateveryouwant.”Myhandspulse,andhercheeksturnpinkasmycockhardensbeneathher.
“Areweleavingthiscottage?”Herheadtiltswhensheasksmethequestion
“Wouldprobablybemostpoliteifwedid.”
“Sincewhendoyoucareaboutbeingpolite?Youusuallysitinthecornerwiththebrimofyourcappulledlowsonoonetalkstoyou.”
“Yeah,butitdoesn’twork.Youtalkatmeanyway.”
Sheslapsmychestplayfully.“Okay,fine.We’llgoseeeveryone…”Hereyesdroptomychest,fingersmovingtolandaquickpinchonmynipple.“Butnotyet.
Ihum,takingmyhandsoffofherandputtingthembehindmyheadlikeI’mlyingonabeachsomewhere.“Definitelynotyet.”
Hereyessnaptomineandshesearchesmyface.“Tellmewhattodo.”
“Yeah?”
Shebitesherlip,tryingtokeepfrombeamingatme.“Yeah.”
“Areyousore?”
“Haveyouseenyourdick?”
“Answerthequestion,Sloane.”
Shescoffsandrollshereyes,lookingallbrattyasshedoes.“Yeah.Imean,I’mabitsore—”
“Good.Getuphereandsitonmyface.”
WhenIshootforwardandgrabher,shesqueals.
AndwhenImakehercome,shecallsoutmyname.
“Thisisn’tfair!”Sloanecallsfromtheoppositesideofthepond,warmbreathpuffingoutinlittlecloudsinfrontofher.“YouguyshavealiteralNHLplayeronyourteam!”
Vaughn,Billie’shusband,hollersbackfromourend,“Tobefair,histeamdoesn’tbelongintheNHLthisyear!”
Colegroansandrollshiseyes.
Griffin,Nadia’shusband,whoIalsorecognizeasaretiredfootballplayer,puncheshimintheshoulderwithagrumbled,“Dick.”
“Sorry,man.”Vaughnchuckles.“LifelongVancouverTitansfan.Nothingpersonal.”
Itapmystickagainsttheiceandofferhimasmirk.“It’salright.Igetit.There’snoaccountingfortastewhensomeoneisaTitansfan.”
Achorusof“oooohs”soundaroundus.
Everyoneagreedadayoffwasinthecards.Agameofshinnyonthefrozenpondiswhattheydecidedondoing,andI’mnotmadatit.
WiththeweightofBeaumissingoffmyshoulders,I’mcravinggettingbackontheice.Butinsteadofto-prategear,dullskatesonbumpyiceandworkgloveswithanold,heavystickandantiquepadsarewhatI’vegot.
“Okay,enoughshittalking.”Stefan,themostrefinedlookingofthebunch,skatesoverandgesturesallthementowardhim.
“Whatareyou?Thecaptainnow?Justbecauseyou’retheevilmastermindofthegroup?”Vaughnrollshiseyes,clearlytheplayfulone.
“It’stheturtleneck.”Griffinpointsattheperfectlypolishedman’ssweater.“Onlyamanwithbigenoughballstobeacaptainwouldbecaughtdeadwearingone.”
“Youguys!”Stefanlaughs.“Myneckiswarmsoleavemealone.WorryaboutMira.”Heangleshischinovermyshouldertowherethewomanwithlongblackhairflowingoutfromunderacreamhatisgrinningathim.“She’sgotthatcrazy,competitivelookonherface.Weknowthesewomen.Theyareinsane.”
“Here,here!”Vaughnnodsenthusiastically.
“Theycan’tbetrusted.”
Colestraightens.“Watchyourfuckingmouth,Dalca.”
“Whatever,G.I.Joe.”Hewaveshimoffandcontinues,“Weneedtowin.Orriskthewomencompletelyemasculatingus.”Stefancan’tevengetthatlastpartofhisridiculouspeptalkoutwithoutchuckling.
“You’realreadywearingaturtleneck.”Griffinshakeshishead.
“Youlittlebitchbabiesready?”Billiecallsfromtheotherendofthepond.“Orareyoualljustgonnastandaroundinacircletalkingaboutyourfeelingswhilewewait?”
“Baby,you’redead!”Vaughnshoutsbackather.
Shesmilesandgiveshimawink.
Theshit-talkingcontinuesastheymaketheirwaytocentericetodropthepuck.ButI’mnotwatchingthat.
I’mwatchingSloane.
Sloanewhojusttookhercoatoffandiswearingmyjersey.Thegoldhighlightsonthemaroonbasematchherhair,andthebiggrizzlyonthefrontmakesherappearmoreviciousthansheis.
Somehowshetakesanoversizejerseyandmakesitlooksodamngood.Toodamngood.
AndwhensheturnsaroundwithGervaiswrittenacrossherback?Ismilebehindthecageofmyhelmet.
Mynamelooksgoodonhertoo.
ThegameisamateurenoughthatIcouldstopeveryone’sshotsinmysleep,butIletsomein…justtokeepthingsexciting.
It’sthejokingandcamaraderiethatIenjoythemost.
It’swatchingSloanedartaroundontheicewearingmyjerseythatgivesmeasemitheentiregame.
Andit’swhensheskatesuptomeandwhispersinmyear,“Jas,whenwegetbackinthatcottage,Iwantyoutoshovemeonmykneesandshowmeexactlyhowyoulikeyourcocksucked,”thatMiraslipsaroundmeandmyone-trackmindtoscorethegamewinninggoal.
“Gotyaaaaaaaa!”Sloane’shandsflyupoverherheadasshecheerswiththeotherwomen,celebratingtheirwinofwhatBilliecoined“TheKindergartenCup”because“onlyabunchofman-childrencouldcomeupwithagamethat’sboysagainstgirls”.
Sloanelaughs.She’slightandbright.She’sSunny.Shemakesmesmilesohardmycheekshurt.
Ican’ttakemyeyesoffofher.28Sloane
Willa:LoopingVioletinonthischattogetthefullpicture.What’stheover-underonsweetlittleSloaneandmoodyhockeyboyhookingupbeforetheygetbacktoChestnutSprings?
Summer:Whyareyousoinvestedinthis?
Willa:NoonedeservesthelastnameWoodcock.He’dhavetolooklikeHenryCavillandfucklikePeterNorthformetooverlookthat.
Violet:Ew.HaveyouseenPeterNorth?Sotanned.Sogreasy.
Willa:That’swhyIsaidhe’dhavetolooklikeHenryCavill.
Summer:Hold,please.GooglingPeterNorth.
Violet:Lmao.Careful.
Summer:Well,hedoesseem…talented.I’mnotmadatit.
Willa:I’monlymadatSloanefornotresponding.
Violet:BasedonthewayherandJasperhavebeenstaringateachother,Ithinkshemightbebusy.
Sloane:Y’allareabunchofnosy,dirtybitches.
Summer:Where’sthelie?
Willa:Justtellus!OnascaleofonetoPeterNorth,howbigisJasper’sD?
IstepoutoftheshowerforwhatfeelslikethehundredthtimesinceJasperandIstartedfucking.Itwouldseemthatmakingamessofmeishisnewfavoritepastime.AndI’mdefinitelynotcomplaining.
“Getonthebed,”Ihearfrombehindme.
AshiverrunsdownmyspinebeforeIeventurntofacehim.Thebiteinhisvoicehasmycoretwistingwithanticipation,andwhenIturntolookathim,Igetwetinstantly.
Heismouthwateringinboxersandanopenflannelshirt.Icanseemytattoopeekingoutoverhisribs,andI’mhitwithablindingflashofjealousy,onethatscratchespainfullyatthebackofmythroatasIwonderhowmanywomenhaveruntheirhandsoverthattattoo.
“AmItheonlyone?”Iblurt,ignoringhisordertogetonthebed.
Hisheadtilts,andheappearsalmostpredatorynow.“Theonlyonewhat?”Icantellhe’snotinthemoodforthisconversation.Icantellwhenhe’slethisheadwandersomewhereitshouldn’thave—andthislookisthat.
Jasperisonedge,probablyaboutthedrivehome,andI’mpushinghimanyway
“Inyourlife.Thatyou’rewith.”IclutchtheplainwhitetoweltighteraroundmelikeitmightkeepmesafefromthisveryunsafeconversationIstarted
“Getonthebed,”herepeats.“Now.”
Iwanttodemandheanswerme,butIalsowanttopretendInevermentionedthisatall.Iwalktowardthebedandsitdownontheedge,probablylookingaspoutyasI’msuddenlyfeeling.
Maybeit’sbecauseourstayhereisalreadyoveraftertwoshortdays.Thismorningwepackedandhehookedthetruckbackuptoanemptytrailer.
Maybeit’sbecauseIhadtosaygoodbyetoVioletandeveryoneelsethismorningbeforetheygotbacktowork.Imissseeingmycousin.She’smyclosestandmostconstantfemalefriend.
Ormaybeit’sjustthehotfuckingmessoftheselastcoupleofweekspilingupandmakingmefeelalittleemotionallywrungout.
“Liedown.Butturn.Iwantyourheadatthesideofthebed.”
Idoashesays.Thethrillofthewayhecommandsmeedgingawaythedoubtinmymind.He’sstillJasper.MyJasper.TheboywiththesadeyesandtheheartofgoldwhoI’vetrustedforyears.
Lyingherewaiting,Ihearhimwalkover.Withinsecondshe’sinmylineofvision,toweringaboveme.Eyesserious,jawclenched.
Hebendsdownandkissesme,tuggingmywethairtoanglemyhead.Thiskissisn’tsoftorsearching—it’sclaiming.
Whenhedecidesit’sdone,hepullsawayandgrowlsinmyear,“You’retheonlyone,Sloane.Don’teverdoubtthat.”
HistonehedgesnodebatebutIblurtout,“Iknowtherehavebeen—”
Hecutsmeoffwithadismissiveshakeofhishead.“We’rebothadults,Sloane.Let’snotpretendwehaven’tlivedourlives.We’vebothbeenwithotherpeople.Buttherealquestionis…”
Histhumbstrokesmyjawlineashetugsthetowelaway,exposingmybodytohimwhilehiseyesdevoureveryinch.
“Therealquestionis,doanyofthoseotherpeoplematterwhenIonlyeverseeyou?WhenIonlyeverthinkaboutyou?WhenI’vedonenothingbutbecomemoreandmoreobsessedwithyousinceIwastoldtostayawayfromyou?”
Iwhimper.Ormoan.Ormakesomesortofnoiseyoumightmakewhensomeonepunchesyouinthegut.
“Dothey,Sloane?Dotheymatter?DoesanyofthatseemlikeitmattersinthefaceofwhatyouandIhavehappeningrightnow?Inthefaceofeighteenyearsoffriendship?Inthefaceofwantingeachotherforsolong?Isasingleotherpersonevenafactor?Evenablipontheradar?”
“No,”Iwhisperinstantly.Whenheputsitlikethat,no.
No.No.No.No.No.
“Noneofitmatters.”
“That’sright.”Hisfingerstrailovermylips.“Theanswerisno.Noneofthatshitmatters.Becausewe’remeandyou.We’reus.Unlikelyandinevitableallatonce.We’reforever.”
Inod,willingawaythesuddenstinginmyeyes.BecauseJasperisn’tanoverlyemotionalman,andthatmightbethefirsttimeI’vereallyheardhimadmitwhatthisallmeanstohim.
WhatImeantohim.
Withaquicksqueezetomythroat,hemurmursagainstmyhair,“Nowhangyourheadofftheedgeofthisbedandopenyourmouth.”
Iwatchinraptfascinationashisimpressivecockbobsoverme,hisboxersdiscarded.Lastnightheshovedmetomykneesandtoldmehowtosuckhiscock,justlikeIaskedhimto.IcamefromhisdirtywordsandthepressureofmythighssqueezingtogetherwhileIsuckedhimoff.Itwasdefinitelythefirsttimeanyonetalkedmeintoanorgasm.
Ilickmylipsashedropshiscocktomyfaceandgentlyadjustsmypositioning.Thenhe’sproppedovermybody,handsbracedonthebedoneithersideofme.
Thepanelsofhisbutton-downshirtfalllikecurtainsoneithersideofmyface.Iopenmymoutheagerly,andhissmoothlengthslidesbetweenmylips.Hisfreshandearthyscentswirlsaroundme.It’saheadycombination.
“Playwithyourtits,Sloane.IwannawatchyouwhileItakeyourmouth.”
Imoanonhislengthandstartplumpingmybreasts.Tweakingmynipples.Losingmymindashesetsaslowrhythmbetweenmylips.
Thisangleisnewforme,andmyeyeswaterfromhowfarbackhe’sabletopush,buthe’salwayscarefulwithme.Carefulnottopushtoohardortoofar.Carefulnottohurtmeoralarmme.
Andyethepushesmefurtherthananyoneeverhas,whichIlove.AtschoolIpushedmyselfharder.Withballettoo.
“Sofuckinggood.Thishotlittlemouth,Sloane.Suckingdicklikeyouwerebornforit.Youhavenoideahowgoodyoufeelwrappedaroundmycock.It’sfuckingaddicting.”
Hethrustsinhard,andImakealightgaggingnoise,tearsblurringmyvisionasIpinchmynipples.“Thattoofar,honey?”
Ishakemyheadvigorouslyandhumonhislength,squeezingmylegstogetherandfeelingthewetnessbetweenthemslip.Imean,itistoofar—logisticallyspeaking.
ButI’mintoit.Really,reallyintoit.
Hechuckles,handshapingmywaist.“Sofuckinghungry.”Hisfingersraplightlyonthetopofmythigh.“Openforme.”
Hishandpressestotheinsideofmythigh,guidingitbacktothebedsothatI’mcompletelyexposedtohimashesteadilyfucksmymouth.Far,butnotsofarthatIgagagain.
“Whosepussyisthis,Sloane?”
Heslapsit,andIcanhearhowwetIamovermymoans.Iofferamuffled“yours”fromaroundhiscocksincehedoesn’tpullbacktooffermeareprieve.
“That’sright.”HisvoiceissolowIalmostdon’thearhim.There’stoomuch.Ifeeltoomuch.
He’stoomuch.
Hisexpertfingersrunthroughmycore,andmyhipsbucktowardhim,liftingfromthebed.I’mreadytocome,readytolethimpullmeapartpiecebypieceandwatchithappen.
IfI’velearnedanythinginthelastcoupleofdays,it’sthatJasperenjoystellingmewhattodoandwatchingmedoit.
Thatalonecangethimhard.Thatalonecangetmewet.SoIguessitworksforus.Justlikethispositiondoes.
Hiscockisinmymouthandhe’smatchingthatrhythmbetweenmylegswithonlyonefinger.It’snotenough.Iwantmore.IwantthatfullnesswhenIexplode.AndI’msodamnclose.
Mybodymustgivemeaway,thearousaldrippingdownmylegsaperfectmatchforthesalivaonmycheek.
“Doyoulovemestuffingyoufull,Sloane?Itseemslikeyoudo.”Heleansforward,pressinghiswickedmouthtothetopofmybarepussy.“Seemslikeyou’vebeenspoiledthough.”
Hisscruffhitsalltherightnervesashedustshismouthovermylowerstomachandmakesmewrithebeneathhim.“Aspoiledlittleprincesswhoneedstolearnsomepatience.”
Withonelastkisstomynavel,hewithdrawsfrommybody.
Fromthebed,frommyspace,frommymouth.
Heleavesmeempty,throbbing,andsofuckingneedy.
“Jasper!”Iwhimperhisname.“Areyoukiddingmerightnow?”
Iheartherustlingofclothesbehindmebeforehesays,“Let’sgo,Sunny.Weneedtohittheroad.”
“Ijustneed—”
“Sloane.”Thecooltoneinhisvoicestopsmyhandfromslidingfurtherdownmybody.“IknowIdon’tneedtotellyouthatyou’reonlyallowedtotouchmypussywhenIsayso.”
Ican’thelpit.Ilaughandthrowmyhandsovermyfaceinexasperation.“Lordhelpme,Gervais.IwishIcouldgobackandtellmyteenageselfwhatshe’sinfortenyearsdowntheline.She’dhavekeeledoveronthespot.”
Ihearhisdeepchuckle,theonethatwarmsmetomybones.Theonethatremindsmeoftheadolescent,bashfulversionofhim.Theonethat’sstillafacetofthecomplicatedmanheistoday.
“Ifyougoback,makesureyoutellhershe’sgotdroolonherfaceandthatit’stimetogetherfineassoutofbed.”
“Ihateyou,”Ilaughbackathim.
ButIalwayslaughatthewrongmoment.AndrightnowIlaughbecauseIdon’thateJasperatall.
Ilovehim.Ilovehimlikethatgirltenyearsagonevercouldhaveimagined
“Areyoumissingdancing?”
OurconversationstartedoffstiltedonourlongdrivehomebecauseallIcouldthinkaboutwasholdingJasperdownandridinghiscockuntilIgotthispeskyconsumingorgasmoutoftheway.Eventuallyhiserectionsubsidedandhisjeansbecamelessstrained.Sadlyforme,Ithinkmyunderwearmightnotbesalvageable.
Butthenwestartedtalkingabouthockey,andIgotinterestedinsomethingbesidestheachebetweenmylegs.HetoldmeabouthisplansforwhenhegetsbacktoCalgary.Thetraining.Thesportstherapy.Heeatsspecifictypesofmeals,whichsoundlikeanawfullotofturkeyandsalmon.
Hisexcitementisinfectious.It’ssoeasytogetcaughtupinhimwhenhe’sanimatedandcarefreelikeheisrightnow.
Thesunisshiningandtheroadsareperfect.
Icherishthesemomentswithhim.
“NotlikeIthoughtImight.Orwell,IshouldsaythatIwas,butIthinkIwasonlymissingitbecauseIwouldhaveratherbeenrunningthroughthesamemindlesschoreographyrepeatedlywhilegettingyelledatinRussianthanplanningaweddingtosomeoneIdidn’twanttomarry.”
Oof.Ireallyknowhowtokillarelaxedmoment,don’tI?Jasper’shandsconstrictmomentarilyonthesteeringwheel,andthesilenceisthick.ItrytokeepmyselffromlaughingathowIjustwaltzedinanddroppedanA-bombonourhappydrivewithouteventrying.
Butanamusedlittlegiggleslipsoutallthesame.
“Goodlord,Sunny.”Jasper’slipsquirkandhisheadshakes.
Ilaughintomyhandsforaminutebeforeregainingmycomposure.“Anyway,forthelastcoupleofweeks,Ihaven’tmisseditthesameway.I’vebeensadbutnotstressed,ifthatmakesanysense?Iwantedtodancetogetalltheanxietyoutofmybody,totiremyselfoutenoughthatIwouldn’tthinktoohard.ButdancinginSummer’sgymwas…relaxingsomehow.Noonewatched.IplayedwhatevermusicIwanted.IdidwhateverchoreographyIwanted.Ijustgottobemyself,andthatwastherapeutic,Ithink.NoonetellingmewhatIcanandcan’tdo.”
“UntilIrolledaround,”Jaspergrumblesdarkly.
Ilaughlightlyandreachovertheconsole,hopingIcanpassoffaccidentallyrubbinghisdickasareassuringpatontheleg.
Myhandlandsonhismuscledquad,slidinginward.“Yeah,butthedifferenceisIlikeitwhenyoudoit.Iwantitwhenyoudoit.Itoldyoutodoit.”
Hischeektwitchesunderthestrainofhidingasmile.Myfingersinchfurtherdownbetweenhislegs,mypinkyshiftingouttotraildownhisimpressivelength.
“Sunny.”
Ipeekupathim,plasteringanexpressionoffauxinnocenceonmyface.“Yeah,Jas?”
“Whatdoyouthinkyou’redoing?”
“Pattingyourleg?”Irollmylipstogether,keepingmyeyesaswideaspossible.
“ThisinnocentlookonyourfaceisadorablewhenonlyafewhoursagoIhungyourheadoffthatfour-posterbedandwatchedyouchokeonmycock.”
Warmsplotchescropuponmyfaceimmediately.Placingonehandovermychest,Ileanawayfromhimdramatically.“Iamscandalized.”
“Yeah.”Hechuckles,peekinguptotherearviewmirror.“You’reabouttobe.Getbackinyourseatandlosethepants.”
Myheartbeatthrumsinmyears.“Whataboutyou?”
“Whataboutme?I’mdriving.”
“Aren’tyouuncomfortable?”
“I’vebeenfightingoffgettinghardaroundyouforyears.I’llbefine.Pantsoff.I’malreadytiredofwaiting.”
Iblinkonce.Years.HowdidInotnotice?DidIconvincemyselfsothoroughlyhewouldneverbeinterestedinmethatIstoppedreallylookingathim?
Theanswerisyes.Itgottothepointwhereitalmosthurttolookathimthatclosely.Tothinkaboutthingsthatspecifically.
“Sloane.”Hisvoiceisauthoritative,andthat’s“TheDaddy”voice,Idecide.There’saswitchthatgetsflickedandhegoesfromquiet,aloofJaspertothat.
Whateverthevoiceis,itcatapultsmeintoaction.Mybootsarealreadyoff,andIpullawaythesoftthermalsocks,droppingtheminthefootwellbeforeliftingmyheavywoolsweater’shemandpeelingtheblackleggingsfrommybody.Hiseyesstayontheroad,butwhenIgotodiscardmypanties,hesays,“No,thosestay.”
“Butthey’re—”
“Anuncomfortablereminderofhowdesperateyouare?”
“Ha.”Ilaughburstsfrommylips.“Yeah,that’sonewaytoputit.”
Asmugsmirkgraceshislipsashepeeksoveratmebriefly.“Good.”
Igroanandtipmyheadbackagainsttheseat,barethighssqueezedtogetherwhileIwait.Whennofurtherdirectionscome,Iglanceathim.“Whatnow?”
“Now,yousitthereandtellmeaboutwhatyouplantodowhenwegetbacktothecity.”
“But…that’snothot.”
Helaughs.“No.Butit’sanecessaryconversation.”
“WhydidIneedtotakemypantsoffforit?”
Heshrugsashecasuallylooksoverhisshouldertoswaplanes.“Justliketowatchyousquirm.Tellmeyourplan.”
Withaheavysigh,Ipluckatmylipandturntostareoutthepassengersidewindow.“Well,I’mduetogotoSterling’spenthouseandpackupthestuffIkeptthere.”
Jasperisdeathlystillbesideme.“I’llgowithyou.”
“Yeah.”Isnort.“Thatshouldgooverreallywell.Icanmanage.”
“Iknowyoucanmanage.ButI’mstillcoming.”
Ibreatheoutslowly,lettingthatgofornow.
“AndI’mgoingtohavetocallmydad.Facethemusiconthatfront.”
“Heshouldbeapologizingtoyou.”
Inodsolemnly.“Thatmightbetrue.ButRobertWinthropisn’tbigonapologizing,soIwon’tholdmybreath.MostofthestuffImovedoutofmycondowhenmyleasewasupattheendofAugustisatmyparent’splaceinboxes.SoI’llhavetofigureoutwhatI’mgoingtodo.WhereI’mgoingtogo.”
“Myplace.”
“Doyouthinkmovingstraightintogetheristhebestidea?”
God.Ireallyhatethisconversation.
“Whynot?Nowspreadyourlegs.Pullyourpantiestothesidewithonehandandrubslowcirclesonyourclitwiththeother.”
Ibarkoutadisbelievinglaugh.“Areyoujokingrightnow?”
“No,Sloane.Youlooktense.Taketheedgeoff.”
I’mshakingmyheadathimwhileIdoasheinstructed.Heleftmeseriouslyriledupthismorning,andasmuchasIsecretlylikeplayingthisgame,Iwillnotturndownanorgasmtohelpwiththat.
Plus,he’snotwrong.Igofromtensetobuzzingwithanticipationinstantly.Withtwofingers,Ihookthewetfabricoutofthewayandfindmyswollenclit.
Ipressdownfirmlybeforecircling,bitingdownonmyliptokeepquiet.
“IhavehousesinChestnutSprings,”hesays,likecarryingthisconversationonwhileIplaywithmyselfisperfectlynormal.Ihavetobitebackmysmile.IneversawthissideofJaspercoming,andIamfuckinglivingforit.HelikesbeingincontrolandchoosingthiswithhimmakesmefeellikeI’mtakingbackpartofmyselfIneverindulgedeither.Myowncontrol.“Multiple.You’dhavetocommute.OryoucanspendthenextfewmonthsdancingatSummer’sgym.Butyoucanhaveone.”
“Multiplehouses?”
Henods,clearinghisthroat.“Keeprubbing,Sloane.Iboughtanentireblock.Arowofbusinessesononeside—includingSummer’sgym—andhousessetontheother.IfiguredI’dneedsomethingtodowhenIeventuallyretire,andfixingupabunchofoldbungalowsinatownIlovewouldbeafunpassionproject.Somethingtokeepmyhandsbusy.”
Atthatmention,heglancesdownatmyhand.Hisjawpopsbeforehelooksbackupatmyeyes.“Plus,Ifoundoutyourdadwantedtobuythatblockandputinastupidmallorsomething.Ruinthetownwithhisshinycookie-cutterbullshit.SoIfuckedhimintheprocessbygoingtotherealtorpersonally.That’sthethingaboutsmalltowns.Theytrustandlikewhotheyknow.Andsheknewme.”
I’malittleflooredbywhathe’sjusttoldme,butI’mnotthinkingstraightwithmyfingersbetweenmylegs.Plus,he’spushedthesleevesofhissweatshirtup,givingmeasexyviewoftheveinsthatrunfromhishandsintohistattooedforearms.“Butyoucouldhavespentallthatmoneyonhuntinglions,”Iquip,watchingthemusclesunderthatblackinkflex.
“Putonefingerin,”hebitesoutinstantly.
AndIdo.
“Nowtwo.”
Imoanandeasilyslideasecondfingerintomyself,pressinginandoutafewtimes.
“Feetuponthedashboard,”heclips,reachingdowntoadjusthiscockinhisjeans.
“Ohmygod,”Imurmur.Theblushfrommycheeksinstantlyblazesoutovermychest,mybreasts,mystomach.Myentirebodyisonfireforhim.
Imovemyfeetupontothedash,makingthefitthatmuchtighter.Imoanatthesensation.
“Youlovethis.Iknow.”Hejutshischinatme.“KneesopensoIcansee.”
“Yousurethisissafe?”Iteasebreathily.
“There’snothingsafeabouthowbadlyIwantyou,Sloane.Neverhasbeen.Nowaddathirdfinger.Iwannawatchyouworkforit.”
Hisheadflipsbacktotheroad.It’sastraight,quietstretchonaperfectlysunnyweekdayafternoon.Jasperwouldnevertakeunnecessaryrisks.
AsIslideathirdfingerinandfeelthebiteofmybodystretching,Idecidethisriskisverynecessary.Comingisverynecessary.AndfollowinghisorderslikethissetsmybodybuzzinglikeI’veneverfelt.
“Howdoesthatfeel,Sloane?”
Iclosemyeyes,imaginehisbodyovermine,andmoan.“Sogood.”
“Youpretendingit’smestuffedbetweenyourlegsratherthanyourfingersrightnow?”
MyeyessnapopenandIglareoverathim.
“Fuckyourfingersandanswermyquestion.”
Myhandmovesinandoutslowly,feelingsofuckinggood.It’sdirtyandkinkyandsounlikethereservedversionofme.Ibecamesomeoneelseunderthethumbofalltheshitaroundme,soIletmyselfluxuriateinfeelingdirtyandfreetotakewhatIwant.
“Yes.Iwasthinkingaboutyou.I’malwaysthinkingaboutyou.”
Asoft,satisfiedsmiletoucheshislips.Everythingabouthimissohypermasculine,hardanddomineeringbutdotingallatonce.Jasperalwaysmakesmefeellikehe’llcatchmewhenIfall.Healwayshas.
“Doyouwanttocome?”
“Yes,”Ipantout,stillworkingmyfingerswantonlyintomyself.
“Toobad.”Hechuckles.Hefuckingchuckles.“Putyourpantsbackonandwait.”
IloudgroaneruptsfrommythroatasIbangmyheadagainsttheseat,instantlycrossingmylegstoeasetheswellofpleasurecoilinginmycore.
LikeImightstrangleit.Snuffitout.
Butitdoesn’twork.Everynerveendingisfiring.EverythingIseeisJasper.
I’veneverbeensofuckingworkedupinmylife.
“Thatisjustcruel.Aren’tyousouncomfortable?”
Heshrugs,lookingaltogethertoopleasedwithhimself.“Yeah.It’snotworsethanwatchingyoudatelosersforyearsthough.”
Iscoffatthat.“You’reamasochist.”
Hedoesn’tevenflinch.“Ibelieveatherapistsuggestedthatonce.”
“Oryoujustsecretlyhateme.”Withashakinghand,IreachformyleggingsthatIsobadlydonotwanttoputon.Evenrunningfabricovermyskinisgoingtodrivemeinsane.It’sjustgoingtomakemehornier.
“Trustme,Sunny.Idon’thateasinglethingaboutyou.ButIdohateyoutalkingabouthimwhileyou’retouchingyourself.”
“Ididn’t—Oh.Thelionhunting.”
Hegivesmeawink.Aplayful,handsome,fuckinginfuriatingwink.
“Ihateyou.”
Heclickshistongueandgiveshisheadthislittledipthatmakeshisthickhairflop.Nohattoday.“Youmentionedthatthismorning.SomehowI’mnotallthatworriedaboutit.You’lltakeitbackwhenImakeyoucomesohardyoucan’tevenwalk.”
Isigh,wantingtopushawaythereminderthatIdid,infact,alreadysaythattoday.Isaiditandimmediatelythoughtitwasn’ttrue.
ThatIlovedhiminstead.
IknowIlovehim.
ButI’mstillhavingatoughtimebelievinghe’lleverbeabletolovemebackinquitethesameway.
“It’sdark.Let’sstophereagainforthenight.”JasperflicksthesignallighttoturnintoRoseHill,hisvoicebleedingexhaustion.We’reonlyafewhoursfromhome,buthe’sright.It’sdarkandourconversationhasfallenintoaquiet,tiredlullaftertenhoursofdriving.
AllIcanthinkaboutissex.
HowIwentfromdancingsorigorouslyandworkingsuchlonghoursthatitbarelyevercrossedmymindtobeingferalforitisreallyawondertobehold.
IdecideIwillnowrefertothisphenomenonasTheJasperGervaisEffect.
He’lledgeyouforadayandturnyouintoahappydesperateho!Thatcouldbehistagline.
I’mliving,squirming,tenseproofofthatatthispoint.
WhenwepullbackintotheRoseHillInn,weparkalongthetree-linedsideoftheparkinglottoaccommodatetheemptytrailerbehindus.
SuddenlyI’mdesperateforfreshair.Thetrucksmellstoomuchlikemintandeucalyptusbodywash.I’malsojitteryandagitatedand—
“Wheredoyouthinkyou’regoing?”Jasper’svoicecutsmeoffasIreachforthedoorhandletoescapethesuffocatingsexualtensionbetweenus.
Istartleandlookbackathim.“Out.”Ihikeathumbovermyshoulder.
“Notachance.Ithinkwe’vewaitedlongenough.”Hecrooksafingeratmeandthenfistsmysweater,gentlytuggingmetowardhim.Withaheavysigh,Iscrambleoverthecenterconsoleandstraddlehislap,justlikethatdayontherunawaylane.
Hisfingersstrokeupthesidesofmyface,overmycheekbones,hookingintomyhairandpushingitbackbehindmyears.“Youhavenoideahowlovelyyouare.Howdistractingyouare.HowmuchI’velovedwatchingyoufollowmydirectionsallday,”hemurmurs,eyestracingmyeveryfeaturewhilehisrock-hardcockdrivesupintomyass.“Iwanttotrythisagain.Norush.Nowheretobe.Nonearmisscarcrash.Justyouandme.”Hisvoiceissosoft,hishandssotender
“Justyouandme,”Iwhisperback.
“Iwantyoureyesonminewhenyoucomeinmylap.”HecupsmyheaddelicatelyandIdropmylipstohishungrily.Hissteelyarmswrappingmeup.Somehowfittingaroundmesoperfectly.Makingmefeelsosafe.Socherished.
Imeltagainsthim.Myhandsroamhischest,histhroat,hishair.Touchinghimfreelyissuchapleasure.
Whenhepullsawayheremovesmypants,onelegatatime.Followedbymyunderwear.Heundressesmeandsoaksinthesight,litonlybytheglowoftheheadlights.Everybrushofhisfingersisreverent,everylookisloaded.
Hekissesmefirst,andmychestacheswiththesweetnessofit.Hislipsarefirmandsoftallatonce.
AshereclineshisseatIhelphimgetridofhispants,rubbinghiscockandcuppinghisballs,makingsureIsneakahandunderhisshirttorunmyfingersovertheballerinahegotjustforme.
“Idon’tknowhowIwentsolongwithoutyou,”hemurmurs,pushingmyhairbehindmyearandcradlingmyskull.“Ineverwanttogowithoutyouagain,”headds,fistinghimselfandswipingthethickheadofhiscockthroughmycore.
“You’llneverhaveto,”IwhisperasIkisshimback,tryingtomatchhisrawnesswithmyown.
“Promiseme.”Hiseyesboreintomymine,andInod.
“Ipromise.”
Thenhenotcheshimselfinsideofme,pushinginjustaninchandstillmybackbowstowardhim.Mybodybendssowillinglyunderhistouchasheholdsmeinposition,andwhenIslowlypushmyselfdownhissteelygirth,feelingeveryinchofhim,hewhispers,“Sloane,”withahitchinhisvoice.
Ourbodiesmeldtoeachotherinthedarktruck.Westartoutlazily.Lovingly.Butsoonourhandsandkissesbecomefrenzied.Mybodyfeelsreadytoburst.
“Jasper,I’mgoingto—”
Hegripsmychinandpullsmyfaceahairbreadthapartfromhis.“Rubyourclit,honey.Comeforme.”
Whenheexhales,Iinhalehisbreath.He’sinsidemeinsomanyways.Idon’tevenknowifherealizes.
Hiscockhitsthatspot,Ibrushmyfingersovermyswollenbundleofnerves,andIshatter,eyeslockedonhis.“Ah!Fuck.Jasper.”
“Sloane,”hegrowls,rightashishanddropstomythroatandhekissesmefiercely.
Mynameisonhislipsashespillshimselfinsideme,soundingjustalittlebitundone.
Justalittlebitoutofcontrol.
AnditgivesmejustalittlebitofhopethatJasperGervaismightlovemethewayIlovehimtoo.29Jasper
Jasper:We’rehomesafe.HowisBeau?
Harvey:Oh,good.Relievedyoutwoareback.Beauisingoodspirits,allthingsconsidered.Hewantstocallyou.He’ssleepingrightnowthough.
Jasper:We’rehere.Anytime.Whenwillhecomehome?
Harvey:Itmightbeawhile.He’singoodhandshere.
ThefirstthingIdidwhenwegotbacktothebigemptyhouseatWishingWellRanchwasdragSloaneuptomyteenagebedroomandfuckherwhilesheworemyjersey.
It’sallI’vethoughtaboutsinceshewaltzedoutofthatdressingroomwearingitwithateasinglittlegrin.Harderforhertogrinwithmydickinhermouth.Majorfanofthesatisfiedsmilesheshotmeafterthough.
Thenwepassedout,limbstangledinthetinybed.Deadtotheworld.Itseemslikeithasbeenmonthssinceheralmost-weddingday.
Nowwe’reunpackingourbagsandenjoyinganicecoldBuddyzBest,Sloaneisdownstairsstartingthelaundry,andI’mfeelingreallyfuckingdomesticandhappyabouttheentiresituationasIfoldthebasketshejustbroughtup.
Icanseeusdoingthisforever.Takingtripstogether.Nappingtogether.Doingchorestogether.Mewalkingupandpressingasoftkisstohercheek,justbecauseIcan,andthencarryingonwithmyshit.EvendoingboringstuffisinfinitelylessboringwithSloanebymyside.
“Jas!HarveyisFaceTiming!CanIanswer?”shecallsfromdownstairs.
IfreezemidwaythroughfoldingtheuglyT-shirtCadegavemeshitforwearing.
“Yes!”Icallbackbeforedroppingtheshirtandstridingoutoftheroom,coveringasmuchgroundaspossiblewithoutrunning.We’vegottentheoddtextupdatefromHarveybutnotalotofinformation.Iknowhe’stryingnottoworryus,buttheless-is-morestrategyreallyisn’treassuringwiththewaymybrainworks.
“Hiiiii!”IhearSloane’ssunnyvoicecomingfromthekitchenasIapproachherfrombehind.“Lookatyou,Beau!God,it’sgoodtoseeyou.”
WhenIgetcloseenoughtoseethescreen,mychestcrackswideopen.HarveyissittingbesideBeauandthey’rebothgrinningbackatSloane.
ThecloserIget,IcanseehowthinBeaulooks,thathisexpressionisabitdrawn.Buthe’sthere.Breathing.Talking.Alive.
“Oh!Thereheis!”SloanecanseemeinthelittlerectangleatthetopofthescreenasIapproach.Ipushupclosebehindher,andwithouteventhinking,Iwraponearmaroundherstomachandtakemyfriend—mybrother—in.
HeandIaretight,butwearen’tsappy.Beauisn’tasappyguy.SometimesIthinkhe’sjustasdarkasIamandjusthidesitbetter.Aka,heisn’tasullendickwhenhehasabadday.
ButI’mme,soIopenwith,“Hey,asshole.Youlooklikeshit.”
Beauchuckles,awrygrintwistinghismouth.“WhenIgethome,I’mgonnakickyourass,Gervais.Nohelmetsandpadsallowedthough.”
“Ifthat’swhatittakestogetyouhome,I’llallowit.Missedyou,man.”
Heforcesasmilenow,hiseyesafamiliarbrandofhaunted.“Missedyoutoo.”
Sloaneglancesoverhershoulderatmyface,likewhatsheseesreflectedonthescreenjustisn’tenough.Oureyescatchforamoment.Shesmilesatwhatsheseesthere,andjustassheturnsbacktothephonescreen,Harveyletsoutaloudwhistle.
“Well,I’llbe…”Hisheadshakes.
Beausnorts.
“What?”Iask,steppingawayandcrossingmyarmsovermychest.BecauseI’mnotstupid.Iknowwhattheyjustsaw.
Harvey’sgrinisjustalittletoowidewhenhesays,“Y’allwentandmadethatkissingcousinssayingareal-lifething.”
MyeyescloseandItakeadeepbreath.I’veneverhadimmunityfromHarveyandhisbadjokes,butI’vealwaysflownundertheradarenoughtonotbehisprimetarget.ImomentarilywonderifthisishowCadefeels.
Sloanegasps.“We’renotcousins!”
Beauelbowshisdad,playingoffofhimlikehealwaysdoes.“Ithinktheymightbedoingmorethankissing.Lookhowredsheis.”
Iglanceupatthecornerofthephonetoseeherface,andsureenough,Sloane’sdoingherbesttomatoimitation.
“We’renotcousins.”Ibackherupbutmylipstwitch.We’regoingtogetthisjokeforalong-asstime,mightaswellrollwiththepunches.
“Imean…sure.Notthetypethat’llmakeababywithatailorsomething,”Harveystartsin,gainingmomentumthemoreweallreact.He’slikeanover-grownchild.“Butstillcousin-yifyouaskme.”
“Literallynooneaskedyou,Harv.”
“Hey,Dad.”Beau’sheadinclinestowardHarvey,andhereachesouttopalmthebackofhisson’sneck.Harveylooksbothexhaustedandrelieved.Itwitchmynosealittletochaseawaythestingthatcropsupthere.
“Yes,son?”
“Onascaleofonetotail-baby-cousins,wherewouldyouputJasperandSloane?”
“Ohmygod.”Sloanecollapsesontothecounter,holdingthephoneoverherhead,shakingitlikeIshouldtakeitfromher.
“Likeafive,probably.”
“Beau,”Icutthemoffwithanamusedshakeofmyhead,takingthephonefromSloane’shand.“Howbadlyinjuredareyou?BecauseI’mgonnamakeyoupayforthatjoke.”
Imeantitinateasingway,butIcantellmycommentsobersthemboth.Ihavearealknackforbeingabuzzkill.Sloanestandsbackupandleanshershoulderintomychesttoappearbackonthescreen.
Beauclearshisthroat.“Someminorburns.”Hegesturestohislegs.“Imightneedafewmonths.ThenI’llbeabletotakeyou.”
InoticetheIVlinethatdisappearsatthetopofhishand.“What’sthedeal?”
“Gottastayhereforabit.Thenthey’llbeabletotransfermehome.AllyoucomplainerswillbehappytoknowthatmydaysmoonlightingasJamesBondhaveended.”
Sloane’sheadnodsinunderstanding.Hedoesn’tseemkeentodisclosemore,andI’mnotonetopushwhensomeonewantstokeepthingsunderwraps,soIdon’t.Idefaulttoourregularfriendship.
“Yeah,butBondgetspussy.”
BeaubarksoutalaughandIsmileatthesound.Fuck,it’sgoodtoseehim,andhearhimlaugh.
“Dude,you’rehookingupwithyourcousin.Don’teventalktomeaboutthat.”
Sloanepushesuponhertiptoesinfrontofme,likeafierylittledragon,allprotectiveandshit.“BeauEaton!NevermindJasper.I’mgonnakickyourasswhenIseeyou.RightafterIhugthehelloutofyouandtellyouhowmuchIloveyou.”
Beausmiles,morenaturalthanI’veseenonhisfaceforthisentireconversation,butIcanseehe’sgettingtired.“I’dliketoseeyoutry,Sloaney.ButI’lltakethehug.”
HarveymustnoticethewayBeauisfadingtoobecausehecutsin,“Okay,we’regonnagiveCadeandWillaacallnext,soI’mgonnajumpinhere.Youtwolovebirdshavefun.It’saboutdangtimeyoutwofigureditout.Jasper’sbeencreepingonyafromunderthebrimofthatdanghatforyears.Sojustbesafe.KnowthatGrandpaHarveywilllovethebaby,tailandall.”
“Harvey!Areyou—”
BeauislaughingwhenHarveycutsmeoff.“Weloveyoutwohooligans!Bye!”
Andthentheimagecutsoutwithamonotonewhoosh.
WhenIglancedown,Sloaneislaughinghardenoughthattearsaregatheringinhereyesasshewipesthemawaywiththebackofherhand.“Goddamn.Harveyisabeast.”
“NevermindBeau.Harveyisdead,”Ijoke,knowingI’llneverfollowthroughonit.
“Hey,Jas?”
“Yeah?”Itipmyheadandlookdownatthewomanwhohasrotatedtopressherbodyagainstmine.
“Haveyoureallybeencreepingonmefromunderthatcap?”
Ishrugandpullherheadagainstmychest.InthesamespotIalwaysdo—pressinghertomyheartanddustingmylipsoverherhair.“Imean,Sunny…haveyouseenyourass?”
“You’renotsupposedtobehere,Gervais.Hasn’tbeentwoweeks.I’mgonnapretendIdidn’tseeyou.”Romandropshisattentionbackdowntothepapersinhishandsashetriestoedgepastmedownthebackhallwayofourpracticefacility.
“Well,Iam.Andyouneedme,Coach.”
“Don’ttellmewhatIneed,Jasper.That’snotyourjob.”
“We’vebeenonalosingstreak.”Likehedoesn’tknow.He’stheonewhositsonthebench,watchingitallhappen.Forme,Ihaven’tbeenabletobringmyselftowatch.Toohard.Toomaddening.
“Yup.”Hepopsthep,stillnotgivingmehisattention.“Andwewerelosingwhenyouwereplayingtoo.”
“Ineedtoplay.Youneedmetoplay—”
Theoldermanstopsrightinfrontofme,hisbrowquirkingspeculativelyashecutsmeoff.“No,Ineedthebetterversionofyouwhohashisheadscrewedonstraight.Andyouneedtheselastfewdaysonyourtimeouttodoit.”
“Timeout?WhatamI?Aseven-year-old?”
Romanshakeshishead,glancingbackdownatwhateversuperinterestingshitmustbeonthepaperinfrontofhim.“Sometimesitfeelslikeallofyouarejustabunchofseven-year-olds.”
Ialmostlaugh.
“Theyfoundhim.He’salive.”
Atthat,Coach’sheadsnapsup.“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”Ican’tstopthebashfulgrinthattwistsmylips.
“Well,heckyes,Jasper.”Romansmiles,crinklingtheskinatthecornersofhiseyes.“That’sthebestfuckingnewsI’veheardinages.”
Heclapsmyshoulderonce.Twice.Andtugsmeinforagruffhugbeforepullingaway,onehandoneachshouldertoreallylookmeintheeye.
“Iwanttoplay.”
Henods.“Youbeentraining?”
IdoubtRomanwouldconsideraboysversusgirlsgameofshinny—plusarecordamountoffucking—training,butexerciseisexercisesoIsay,“Yeah.”
Heeyesmespeculatively,andItrainmyfacetonotgiveanythingaway.It’snotthefirsttimeI’vebentthetruthwithmanagement.
Theytellmenottoridehorsesinmycontracttoo.Doesn’tstopmefromgettingupandhelpingwiththebrandingeverysummerandworkingcattleforthefamilyreunioninthefallthough.
I’mnotasgoodasRhettorCade—orViolet—butI’mstillacountryboyatheart.Icansaddleahorseandherdacow.
“Alright.Youcometopracticeandtrainingforthenextthreedays.ShowmeyourfocusisbackandI’llletyouplay.”
“Yes,Coach.”Isteelmyfeatures,tryingnottogiveawaythatIreallywantedtoplaytonight.Rightnow,ifpossible.Ihadhockeypushedoutofmymind.Didn’tfeellikeIneededit,didn’tmissit,becausemybrainwastoofullofgriefandself-pity.Butnow?Nowmyfingersitchwithit.
Withanod,IturntowalkbackoutthedoorstowhereSloaneiswaitingsafelyinmySUV.
“Hey,Gervais?”
Roman’swordsturnmearoundrightasInearthemetalpushbarontheexitdoor.“Yeah?”
Hegesturesathishead.“Where’syourhat?”
Iblinkonce,puttinghisquestiontogether.Ireachupandrunapalmovermyhairtocheckforit.Wearingmyteamhathasbeenapartofmyidentityforthebetterpartofmylife.
“Idon’tknow.IguessIforgottoputiton.”
Themanquirkshisheadatmeandsmilesbeforewalkingaway.
Itoldhimthetruththattime.Whenwegotready,Ididn’teventhinkaboutputtingmyhatonthismorning.
IguessIdidn’tfeellikeIneededit.30Sloane
Cade:Wanttocomeoverforadelicioushome-cookedmealtonight?Wouldlovetoseeyou!
Jasper:Whyareyoutalkingallweirdlikethat?
Cade:Likewhat?
Jasper:Nevermind.I’llaskSloane.
Cade:Areyouguysbangingyet?
Jasper:Jesus,Willa.GiveCadehisphoneback.
“No.”IcrossmyarmsovermychestandglareatSloanefromthedriver’sseatofmyVolvo.
“Yes.”Shetipsherchinup.
“I’mnotstayinginthefuckingcarlikealittlekid,Sloane.”
“Listen,yougottodealwithyourshit.Ineedtobetheonetodealwithmine.”
Igroanandrunahandovermyface.“You’remakingmesoundlikesomesortofdomineeringasshole.”
“Iftheshoefits,”shesaysandflattensherlips,givingmealittleshrug.
Itipmyheadback.“Ijustwantyoutobesafe.Idon’tlikeWoodcock.Idon’ttrusthim.”
“He’sprobablynotevenhome.”Sheglancesoutthepassengerwindowatthetallglassbuildingoverhershoulder.“It’sthemiddleoftheafternoonandhe’saworkaholic.”
“Andifheis?”
“Andifheis,thenthat’saconversationI’llhavewithhim.Idon’tneedyoustandingtheresnortinglikeanangrybullbehindme.”
“I’llwaitoutside,”Iconcede.
“Outsidethebuilding?”
“No.”Iunbucklemyseatbeltandroundthevehicletoopenherdoor.“I’llbeoutsidethedoorofhisunit.”
WhenIlookdownintothecar,Sloanesighs.ButIseeherlipstwitch.I’dneverforgivemyselfifhelaidahandonher,andIdon’ttrustthefuckerasfarasIcanthrowhim.
“Fine,”shehuffsout,takingmyhandasshestepsout.
Withoutlettinggoofherhand,Iopenthebackdoorandpulloutthecardboardboxwebroughtwithus.Weentertheritzybuildingandheadstraightfortheelevator.Asthedoorsclose,IcatchsightofusinthemirroredwallofthesmallspaceandreadSloane’sbodylanguage.Thewayshe’stuckedherselftightbesideme,thewayherlongbangshavesweptdownoverherface,thewayherteetharescrapingoverherbottomliprepeatedly.
Thewomancandanceonstageinfrontofthousandsofpeoplewithalltheconfidenceintheworldbutthishashernervous.Thesepeoplewhoweresupposedtocareabouther—supposedtoloveher—havebeatenherdown.
Theymakeherfeelinsecure.
AndIhatethemforit.
Ipulsemyhandaroundhersreassuringly,andherheadsnapsup.
Shecatchesmygazeinthemirror.“Hi,Jas,”shewhispers.
“Comehere,Sunny.”Itughergentlyintome,turningherintomychestwhereIcanfeelherbreathonmyshirt,feelherheartbeatagainstmyribs.
Italmostdoesn’tseemrealhowweslippedsoeffortlesslyintothisnewrelationship.Itfeelslikewe’vebeentogetherallalong,andIguessinsomewayswehave.
“I’llfeelbetteronceIgetallmystuffout.”
“Youshouldletme—”
“Jasper,stop.Ineedtodothisformyself.Reclaimmylifeonmyown.Yougetthehallway,dealwithit.”
Isqueezeherheadagain,restingmycheekagainstherhair.Iwatchusagaininthemirror.
Herbrightblonde,mywarmbrown,herporcelainskin,minetanner.Thewayshefitsagainstmeandcomplimentsme.Itjustdoesn’tseemlikeitcanbeacoincidence.
Itseemslikesomethingsomuchbiggerthanus.
“You’regonnadealwithmepeelingthosejeansoffandeatingyourpussyinthiselevatoronthewaybackdown,”Imutteragainstherhead.
ShelaughsassherollsherforeheadacrossthedarkgrayT-shirtthatstretchesovermychest.“You’resuchacavemansometimes.”
Shetenseswhentheelevatordingsandcomestoaslowstopatthethirty-firstfloor.Thedoorsslideopentorevealasmallfoyer.Therearenootherdoorsoffofit,justthebigsleekonebeforeus.
Asecuritycameraresidesintheuppercorner,theredlightblinkingatmelikeadare.
ItosstheboxtowardthestatelyentranceandcupSloane’shead,pushingherupagainstthewall,crushingmymouthagainsthers.
Thefirstnoiseshemakessoundssurprised,thesecondisamoan.Herhandsrakeupmychest,nailsscrapingwhenshedragsthembackdown.Herlipsgosoft,andherjawrelaxesinmygrip.
Ihaveneverbeenabletoscareheroff.She’srelentlessandloyal.
Nomatterhowmanypeopleleaveme,sheneverdoes.
Itdoesn’tmatterwhatIsayorwhatIdo—whatIlike.Shejustrisesuptomeetme.TurnstoputtyinmyhandswhileIkisshersenselessbeforesendingherintothepenthouseshesharedwithherexmereweeksago.
I’vestoodouthereforthirtyminutes,tootensetoevenscrollthroughmyphone.Instead,Ilistenatthedoorlikeatotalcreep,tryingtomakeoutifIcanhearvoicesornot.Icanhearshuffling,possiblyevenhumming,comingfromtheunit.
I’massumingifWoodcockwereinthere,I’dhearalotofbitchingandmoaning.
KeepingmyselffrombarginginthereisaHerculeanfeat.Andit’snotevenjealousyatthispoint,orconcernforhersafety,becauseI’malmostpositiveshe’saloneinthere.
It’sthatI’mfindingIdon’tlikebeingawayfromheratall.Idon’tknowifit’stheneedtomakeupforlosttime,orifI’mjustbeingaclingybastard,butI’dratherbeintherehelpingpackherstuffthanstandingouthereoverthinkingeverysmallparticleofmylife.
Andhers.
Iheartheknobjostleandherpetiteformpopsoutthroughthedoor.She’sstrugglingundertheweightoftheboxandstillmanagestolooklightersomehow.“Hi!”Hervoiceisbright,alittlebreathy.
Rushingforward,Isnagtheboxoutofherarmsandpressaquickkisstoherlips,feelingdesperateforher.Relieved.Iwanttowhiskheraway,backintothebubblethatwasjustthetwoofusontheroad.
Yeah,everythinginourpersonalliveswasshitatthetime.Butitwasus,alone.Notallthisotherstufftodealwith.
“Allokay?”Iask.
“Yeah.”
“Hewasn’tthere?”
“No.”Sheshakesherheadbriskly,reachingforwardtopresstheelevatorbutton.“Justme,burningthroughtheretofindmystuff.It’sfunny…”Sheglancesoverhershoulderatthedoor.
“What?”
“Ijust…IthoughtIwasgoingbacktheretogetmystuff.ThatIneededmystuff.ButassoonasIwalkedinthere,Iwantedtobebackouthere.Withyou.Hell,Ididn’twanttobehereatalltoday,andItoldmyselfI’donlygrabthethingsthatwereimportant.Thethingsthatmeantsomethingtome.SoIwalkedaroundlookingforthembut…Ididn’tfindthem.”
“Didthatassholedosomethingtoyourstuff?”
“No,no.It’sjust…nothingintheremeansanythingtome.I’velivedthereforafewmonthsandI’mattachedtonothing.Therewasnothing…important.NotasinglememoryofmytimewithhimthatIwanted.PeoplesayI’moverlysentimental,butIcouldn’tfindasinglethingintheretofeelsentimentalabout.”
Fuck,that’ssad.Idon’tlikeSterlingbutSloaneisadifferentstory.Andtohearshewaslivingalifethatheldsolittlemeaningtoherfuckinghurts.Islidemysparehandoverthesmallofherbackreassuringly.“SowhatamIholdinginthisbox?”
“Oh,that?Yeah.Iendedupgettingeverysinglethingthatwasmineandcrammingitinthere.”
Isnort.“Ithoughtnoneofitmattered?”
Sheliftsherface,lookinglikeroyaltyasshetipsherchinallhighandregal.“Itdoesn’t,butI’mnotleavingasinglepieceofmyselfinthere.Notmyfavoritechips.Notatoothbrush.Iwanttodisappearfromhislife.Justpoof,”—shesnapsherfingers—“gone,likeIneverexistedinthatpenthouse.Forawhile,Ifeltlikehedeservedanexplanation.ButIdon’tthinkhedoesanymore.ThatwastheonlyclosureIneeded.”
Shetakesasmallstepclosertome,whichisalltheconfirmationIneed.DeepdownIknowitwasneverreallyachoicebetweenthetwoofus.
Butitfeelsgoodtobechosenallthesame.
ItalsofeelsgoodwhenIslidemyhanddownandtakeabighandfulofherLevi’s-cladasswhilewinkingovermyshoulderatthatredblinkinglight.BecauseIknowSterlingWoodcockwillcheckthesetapes.31Jasper
Jasper:How’smygirl?I’llbebacktonight.Meetyouattheranch?
Sloane:Yes.Reallygood.Especiallywhenyoucallmethat.
Jasper:Mygirl?
Sloane:Yeah.Haha.NeverthoughtI’dhearthat.
Jasper:Sunny,you’vealwaysbeenmygirl.
Sweattricklesdownmybackinthequietstudio.There’snobar,andthefloorsaretoosoftforpointeshoes.
AndIcan’trememberatimewhenIloveddancingsomuch.
Possiblyasachildbeforeitgotcompetitiveandcamewithcriticismsaboutmybody.BeforeitmademyfeetsosoreIcouldbarelywalk.
Foroveramonth,I’vedancedhowIwanttodance,ignoringeverysingleresponsibilityandenjoyingeverymomentofindependence.
IstandintheskyboxandwatcheverysingleoneofJasper’sgames.
Iwaitattheexitandfeelmyheartracewhenhistall,broadformappearsinthedoorway.
Irevelinthewayhecomesstraightforme,kissesme,andsqueezesmeagainsthischest.
ImakelovetohimwheneverIwant.
IdancewhenIwant.
IeatwhatIwant.
IonlytakethephonecallsIwant.
IsleepinuntilwheneverIwant.
Ispendmyhard-earnedmoneythewayIwant.
I’mfinallylivingformyselfandfeelingempoweredaboutit.
Ifeelreborn.
JasperandIhaveholedupinthehouseattheendoftheblockheowns.It’srightbehindSummer’sgym,soIcaneasilyhavesocialtimeandgetmydancingintoo.
WhenJasperheadsoutforawaygames,Ihavegirls’nightswithWillaandSummer,orIhavedinnerwithHarvey,orIhelpCadecheckalltheelectricwaterersontheranch.OrIstayuptoolateputtingfreshcoatsofpaintinthebungalowsJasperowns.
I’vewatchedYouTubevideosonhowtoinstallnewfaucets,andJaspernevertellsmeIcan’torIshouldn’torthatit’ssomethingamanshoulddo.
Noonedoes.
Instead,hewalksin,givesthehousealittlesmirkwithhishandsslungcasuallyinhispocketsandtellsmehowfabulousitlooks.WhatagreatjobI’vedone.HowcapableIam.
Hemakesmebelieveinmyself.
Thenhebossesmearoundinbed—butIlikethatpart.
TherestofitmakesmerealizehowpowerlessI’vebeentrainedtobemyentirelife.Itstirsanunfamiliarrageinsideofme,onethatkeepsmefromansweringanyofmydad’sphonecalls.
ImisshimandyetI’mfuriouswithhim.ImisswhoIthoughthewas—therelationshipIthoughtwehad—andyetthisnewperspectiveI’vegainedmakesmeloathehimatthesametime.
I’vehadthetimeandspacetoreflectonthecontrollingwayhetreatsmymom,thewayhe’salwaystreatedher.Thewayhetalkstoservingstaff,thewayhewalksalloveranyonehedeemsbeneathhim.
Whichisalarminglysimilartohowhe’streatedme.Theonlydifferenceisthatwithmeheusesasugaryvoiceandcallsme“darling”whilehepushesmeintotheplaceshewantsme.Theplacesthatbenefithimthemostwhilesuckingthesoulrightoutofme.
Withoutthisdistance,I’mnotsureI’dhaveevennoticed.I’dstillbeaprettylittlemannequin,bornandbredtomakeappearancesinhisworld.
Butthaterahasended.Idoplantofacehimatsomepoint,todemandtherespecthe’snevergivenme.AndeverydayIgetcloser.EverydayIgrowstronger.
Distancehasbroughtperspective,butalsoanall-newprideinmycapability,inmyintelligence.WomenlikeSummerandWillasurroundingmebolstersmyinnerfortitude.
AndthesupportofmenlikeJasper,Harvey,Rhett,andCademakesmefeellessself-consciousaboutthisnewversionofmyself.Theonewhodoesweirddancesinthebackroomofagymanddrinkscoffeeat11p.m.soshecanripoutvomit-greenshagruguntiltwointhemorningandadmirethehardwoodfloorsbeneath.
Ifeel…found.IenjoyhelpingCadeandHarveyattheranch.Ienjoydoingoddjobs.IstilllovedancingbutI’vereclaimeditformyself.Mybodydoesn’triotwhenIdancenow,itsingswithit.
Idon’tknowhowthisalllooksformelong-term,butIamtentativelyhappy.Tentativelyoptimistic.
Isitonthefloorandfoldmyselfovermylegs,sinkingintothestretch.MybodyisallwarmandbutteryandIfeeladeepsenseofaccomplishment,likeI’veflattenedanotherlittlecornerofmyscrunched-uplifemapinmyheadwhileIdancedaroundtoday.
Jasperisheadingbackfromanawaygameandwe’redoingaholidaydinneratWishingWellRanch.Christmasisaweekaway,butthere’savibeattheranchthatalwaysmakesitseemlikeChristmas.
Warm.Cozy.Family.
Awholesomemovie-styleChristmas,notaballgownorcaviarcanapéinsight.
Iwrapmyfingersaroundthearchesofmyfeetandpressmybreastsdownintomylegs,mysitbonesintothefloor.
Whenmyphonebuzzesacrosstheroom,Iignoreit.ItbuzzedwhileIwasdancing,cuttingoffthemusicinmyearbuds,butIdidn’tfeellikestopping.Whoeveritisdoesn’tgiveupthistime.Itjuststartsupagain.Withasigh,IdecideI’mdoneenoughwithmyworkoutthatIcanabandonit.Isitbackup,walktothetableinthecornerwiththebigstereosystem,andpickthephoneup.
RoyalAlbertaBalletCo.flashesacrossthescreen.They’reprobablywonderingiftheprimaballerinathey’vedumpedyearsofdevelopmentandmoneyintoisdonefuckingaround.Ihaven’tgottenbacktothemaboutspringseason.IsawtheemailandIjust…didn’tfeellikeresponding.
Islidethegreenphonesymbolacrossthebottomofthescreenandtakethecall.
EveryonewasjealousofthehockeygameJasperandIrecountedwhenwereturnedfromRubyCreeksoIspenttheafternoonhelpingRhettclearoffashallowandveryfrozensectionofthecreeknearBeau’sstillemptyhouseforafewChristmasgamesofshinny.
FromwhatIgather,Beauwon’tbebackuntilthenewyear.Hetoldus“minorburns”butsinceHarvey’sreturn,it’sbecomeclearthatminormightbeanunderstatement.
AllIknowisthathe’sgoingtobeokayandhe’scominghome.Jasperisitchingtoseehim.I’mjustnotsurethemanhe’llseenowwillbethesameasbeforehedeployed.
Rhettdroppedmeoffatthemainhousetenminutesago.It’ssnowyout,butthebenchbesidethewishingwellisclearedoff.TheskyissofullofstarsthatIstakeaseatinallmysnowgear,tipmyheadback,andstareupatthechipsofbrightlightasIwaitforJaspertoarrive.
Constellations.Planets.Satellites.
EverythingiscleareroutinChestnutSprings.Notjustthestars.
IrememberJaspersittinginthisexactspotonarainysummernight.Itwasthenighthetoldmeeverything.ItwasthenightIdancedhimbecauseIdidn’tknowwhattosay.Itwasthenightwebecameirrevocablytiedtooneanother.
Ihearthebrittlecrunchingoftiresagainstthepackedsnowonthemaingravelroadfollowedbythesoftrollingsoundofthemhittingtheasphaltdrivewayuptothemainhouse.Whenbrightwhitelightsturntowardthehouse,myheartpitchesinmychest.
EighteenyearsI’veknownJasperGervaisandIstillgetexcitedwhenI’mabouttoseehim.Stilllookforwardtohimcominghomeeveryday.Stillsmilewhenatextcomesin.
I’llnevertireofhim.OfthatI’msure.
HisSUVrollsrightupinfrontofme,andhegrinsatmethroughthewindow.
Helookshappy.
HappierthanI’veeverseenhim.AndIcan’thelpbuthopeI’mplayingapartinhishappiness.
Thatwemakehimhappy.Becausewemakemesofuckinghappy.
Hejumpsout,dressedallclassyinacamel-brownpeacoatoveracharcoalsuit.Browndressshoesonhisfeet.Heispuresex.
“Icamestraightfromtheairport,”hesaysasheroundsthefrontofhisvehicle,eyesrakingovermelikeI’mhisfirstmealindays.
Ishiverundertheintensityofhisstare.Hisirisesareaperfectmatchforthenavywinterskylyinglikeablanketoverus.Hislonglegseatuptheground,dressshoescrunchingonthepackedsnow.
“Icanseethat.Youlookallshmancy,Gervais.”Ismirkandtwirlafinger.“Doaspin.Letmeseethatass.”
Hechuckles,alowrumblethatIswearvibratestheairbetweenusbeforehescoopsmeupandswitchesplaceswithme.“I’dratherbegrabbingyours,”hebreathes,pressingachastekisstomylipsasheeasilyflipsmeontohislap.
Mylegsstraddlehis,andhisbroadpalmsfirmlygrabeachasscheekashegazesupintomyfaceandwhispers,“Imissedyou,Sunny.”
Irollmyeyes.“Itwasonlytwodays.”
“Toolong,”hegrumbles,givingmehissignaturebroodylook.
“Allyoudidwasflyout,playhockey,andthenflyback.”
“Yeah,butIlikeitwhenyou’reatmygames.”
“YouhaveplayedbettersinceyouandI…”Iwigglemyeyebrowssuggestively,andhisfingerspulseonmyass.
“Youtryingtotakecreditforourwins?”
“It’sscience,Gervais.Youcan’targuewithit.Youweresuckingandnowyou’renot.Yourwinningstreakisgoingtobreakrecordsatthisrate.Mypussyisgoodluck.Thekingmaker.No…”Iholdahandup.“TheStanleyCupMaker.”
Jaspergivesmeaflatexpression.“I’mnotcallingyourpussyTheStanleyCupMaker,Sunny.”
Igiggle,feelingallgirlishandgiddysittinginmychildhoodcrush’slap,inthesnow,underastarlitsky,likeit’sthemostnormalthingintheworld.AndthenIdropmyheaddowntokisshim,thecoldtipsofournosesbrushingtogether.Thestubbleonhischeekspokesthroughthethinknitofmygloves,scratchingagainstmypalmsasIholdhishandsomeface.
WhenIpracticedmychoreographyouthereasachild,Idreamedofkissinghim,hishandsonme,hiswarm,surebodyundermine.
IthoughtIlovedhimthen,butI’mnotsosureIdid.Iwasinfatuatedwithhim.This?Now?
It’sdifferent.We’redifferent.
“Imissedyoutoo,Jas,”IwhisperagainsthislipsasIpullawaytorunmyhandsoverhishair,tryingtorememberthelasttimehe’swornacap.Maybewhenheworksout?Orwhenweworkonthehousetogether.Hiscapfunctionsmoreasawaytokeephishairoutofhisfacenowthantohidebehind.
Itseemslikemaybehe’sdonehiding.
Maybewebothare.
“Igotacalltoday,”Icontinue,takinginhisheavybrowsandthefinelinesacrosshisforehead.
“Yeah?”Hishandsrubfirmcirclesovertheglobesofmybuttcheeks,warmingmebetterthanmythermalleggings.
Lightsnowfalls,andIwatchacrystallineflakelandonhisdarklashes,suspendedthereforamomentuntilheblinks.
“Yeah.ThebackupdancerfortheSugarplumFairyinTheNutcrackerisoutwiththefluandtheprincipaldancerfortherolehasAchillestendinitisthatneedsarest.TheyaskedmetostepintomorrowforthefinalshowbeforeChristmassinceIdancedthepartlastyear.”
“And?Areyouhappyaboutthat?”
Thepersonyou’rewithaskinghowyoufeelaboutsomethingshouldn’tseemlikeabigdeal.Butitstrikesmehereandnowthatnoonehaseverreallyaskedmethis.
Thisisnewforme.Hedoesn’tjumptotellmewhetherIshouldorshouldn’tbehappyaboutsomething.HejustasksmehowIfeel.Likewhat’sgoingoninsidemyhead—insidemyheart—isworthyofhisnoticeandrespect.
AndIthinkIlovehimevenmoreforthat.
“Yeah,”Iwhisper,goingallmushyasIstareathim.“IthinkIam.”
AsoftsmiletouchesJasper’slips,stillglisteningwithmylipglossfromthesloppy,happywelcome-homekissesIplantedonhim.Hisdimplespeekoutfrombehindhisstubble,andIalmostswoononthespot.
Thewayhe’slookingatmerightnowmakesmycheeksheatdespitethechillyair.Unabletowithstandthesaccharinesweetnessofthemoment,Idropmyfaceintohischest.Isuckinhissignaturescentandnuzzleagainsthimashewrapshisarmsaroundme.
Wesitlikethisuntilwecarsrolldownthedriveway.Iturnmyheadatthelightsthatcropupastheydrawnear.ThevehicleinfrontisapearlwhiteAudisedan,andbehinditisamassivesilvertruckwithchunkywintertiresandaloudengine.
TheAudiscreechestoahaltatthetopoftheroundaboutdriveway,andatinyblondewomanfliesoutofthedriver’ssidewithherfingerpointedatthetruck,keychainjanglingbeneathherhand.Shehasherkeysshovedbetweenherfingerslikeclaws.Likeshe’sreadyforafight.
“Areyoufuckinginsane?”sheyells.
Jaspersitsuptallbeneathme,clutchingmeprotectivelyagainsthischest.Icanfeeleverylimbgotaut,likehe’sreadytospringintoaction.Aftercuttingtheengine,ahandsome,dark-hairedmanhopsoutofthehuge,loudtruck.Andnotregularhandsome,thekindthatwouldturnheadswhenhewalksdownthestreet.
Thepatiolightsilluminatethegrinonhisface,andwhenJaspercatchessightofhim,hisbodyrelaxes.
“Easy,Tink,”themansaysgood-naturedlybutalittleteasing.“You’regonnapopabloodvesselstompingaroundlikethat.”
“Tink?”sheshouts,pullingupaboutsixfeetfromhim,notatallaffectedbyhisgoodlooks.
Hewavesahandoverhercasually.“Yeah.You’vegotthiswholeangrylittleTinkerbellvibehappening.Idigit.”Hiseyesrakeoverherbodyappreciativelybutnotlewdly.
“You’refuckingnuts,youknowthat?Youdrivelikeanassholebehindmeforasolidtenminutes,andnowyoufollowmehere?To…to…checkmeoutandcomparemetoaDisneypixie?”Thewomancontinuesreaminghimout,herdoll-likefeaturestwistedinafuriousmask.“Thatwasdangerous.Youcouldkillsomeone.”
Myheadwhipsbetweenthemastheyvolleybackandforth.
“Ithinkshe’sactuallyafairy.Andfortherecord,drivingtwentybelowthespeedlimitisalsodangerousandcouldkillsomeone.Mostlyme.Fromboredom,”hequips,leaningahipagainstthetruckandcrossinghisarmsoverhischest,notlookingtheleastbitconcerned.
“It’sdarkandsnowy!Idon’tknowthearea.Therecouldbewildlife!Drivingslowlyissafesolongasaback-fortyhillbillyisn’tridingmyassinhissmall-dicktruck,flashinghishighbeamsatme.”
Jasper’sbodyshakeswithlaughter,andItossahandovermymouthtocoverthesnort-laughthat’sreadytoburstout.“Whoisshe?IthinkIloveher.”
“That’sSummer’soldersister,Winter.”
Myeyesshiftbacktotheinteractionnearthefrontdoor.We’reobscuredbyJasper’sSUVbutstillhaveagoodvantagepointfortheunusual,butsuperior,holidayentertainment.
“Ohh.ThatWinter?”
“Yeah.ThatWinter.”
Theman’sdarkbrowsshootuponhisforehead,andIcantellhe’stryingnottolaugh.“Ihearthatifyouwantyourassridden,asmalldickisthewaytogo.SomaybeI’myourguy.”
Winter’smouthdropsopencomicallywide,andIcovermyentirefacewithmyhandstosmothermygiggles.“Andwhoishe?”
Jasperwheezesalaugh,clearlyenjoyingthisexchangejustasmuchasme.“That’sTheo.”
“Idon’tthinkIknowhim.”Ipeekbackoverattheclean-shavenman.Hiseyessparklelikepolishedonyx,eyelashessodarkandlongtheymakemejealous.“He’scute.”
Jasperpinchesmybutt.Hard.AndIsquealintohischest.
“TheoSilva.Bullrider.Rhett’sbeenhismentorforawhilenow.”
Winterholdsupherlefthandandcocksahip.“I’mmarried,youfuckingpig.Nowleave.”
Theoshrugsandsmiles.“Marriedfornow,maybe.”
Rhett’svoicedrawsmyattentiontothefrontdoor.Idon’tknowhowlonghe’sbeenstandingtherewatching.“Yeah,don’tworry,Winter.We’redefinitelygonnafreeyoufromthathusbandandburyhiminthebackfield.It’llbelikethatDixieChickssong.RobisthenewEarl.”
Winterpressesherfingerstohertemples.“You’reluckyyoumakemylittlesistersohappy,Eaton.”RhettchucklesandsuddenlyWinterlooksexhaustedandverywrungout.Shelookslikeshecouldcrumple.Iwanttomarchacrossthedrivewayandhugher,butIalsodon’twanttooutoureavesdroppingposition.
“Theo’sjustababythough.Youcan’tcorrupthim,Winter,”RhettcarriesonwhileWintershootshimanexasperatedglare,sighingheavily.
Theorollshiseyes.“I’mnotababy.I’mtwenty-six.”
Rhettscoffs.“No,youaren’t.You’retwenty-two.”
“Dude.Iwastwenty-twowhenIfirstmetyouonthecircuit.I’vegottenolder.You’redoingthethingmymomdoeswithherpets.Theyhitacertainageandthenshesaysthey’rethatsameageuntilonedaytheyjustdie.”
Rhettchuckles.“Well,I’llbe.You’relikethatstorewiththeskimpydresses.Forever22.”
“Yeah.You’redefinitelygettingold.ThatstoreiscalledForever21.”
Rhettswipesahandthroughtheairasthoughbattingawayafly.“Whatever.Ionlyknowabouttheskimpydresses.”
“Areyoutwodone?IneedadrinkifI’mgoingtostayhereallnight.”Winter’sarmscrossoverherstomachprotectively.FromwhatIknow,sheandSummerhavebeenmostlyestrangedalltheirlives,andforgoodreason.Butinrecentmonths,they’vebeentryingtomendthatbridge.
“Ah,yes,Winter,meetmyprotégéTheoSilva.Theo,meetDoctorWinterHamilton,myfuturesister-in-la—”
“WinterValentine,”shecorrectsstiffly.
“Fornow,”Theoreiteratesandwinksather.Sherollshereyesdramatically,whichmakesTheosmilebiggerashestickshishandouttoshakehers.
ShewalkspastTheo’soutstretchedhandwithoutasecondglance,andherollswithitbyswipinghispalmthroughhishair,jokinglikehewasn’ttryingtoshakeherhandatall.
“Callyourdogoff,Eaton,”shemuttersasshepassesRhettandentersthelogranchhouse.
“Woof!”Theomakesadeepbarkingsoundintothesnowynightair,andRhettlaughsathimasWinterdisappears.
“You’reanidiot,Theo.”
“Dude.IthinkI’minlovewithyoursister-in-law.She’ssofiery.”
Rhettshakeshisheadasheturnstogobackintothehouse,Theoonhisheels.“LikeIsaid,man,you’reanidiot.”
Thedoorcloses,andJasperandIsnuggleupintoeachotheronthequietbenchagain.
“Well…”hestarts,armsswipingupovermyback.“Shouldwegoin?Idon’twanttomissthisdinner.It’sgonnabeagoodone.Icantellalready.”
“Yeah.”Ichuckle,kissinghisbristlycheek.“Let’sgo.”
Igotoextricatemyselffromhislap,buthishandsclampdownonme,keepingmewhereIam.
“First,canIcometoTheNutcracker?Iwannaseeyoudance.Iwannabethere.Frontrow.Bigbouquetofroses.Thewholething.”
“Youbetterbethere,Gervais.”Igrinathim,heartswellinginmychest.HavingthepeopleIloveintheaudienceisthebestpart,andsuddenlymyhearttwangsatthelossIfeelwheremyparentsareconcerned.
Theymightnotbethere,andI’llbespendingChristmaswithoutthemforthefirsttimeintwenty-eightyears.
Mybirthdayisthisweektoo.IabsentlywonderifI’llmissthatwiththemaswell.
Butaswestand,Jaspersqueezesmyhandanddrawsmeclose.Andnothingintheworldhaseverfeltmoreright.
Ican’thavethembutIhavehim.AndthemoretimeIspendlivingmyownlife,themoreIthinkthat’sanokaytradetomake.
Jasperisworthit.32Jasper
Beau:DadjusttoldmeyoupaidfourtimesfacevalueforafrontrowtickettoseeSloanedance.Theypayy’alltoomuchtorunaroundonicewearingblades.
Jasper:It’saninvestment.
Beau:Inwhat?
Jasper:Us.
Beau:Oh,dude.You’resofargone.
Jasper:You’resuchadork.
Beau:Onlyyouwouldhavewaitedthislong.Ialmostfeelbadshehadtofallforsomeoneasslowtoprocessasyou.DotheygiveOlympicmedalsforpatience?Youcouldgiveheryours.
Jasper:Youknowwhatherdickheadofadadsaidtome.
Beau:Yeah.Butthatwasthen.Thatguyain’tshitsharpnow.You’reJasperfuckingGervais.Olympicgoldmedalist.FutureStanleyCupChampion.SportsIllustratedcovermodelmaterial.Cousinfucker.
Jasper:Iamreallygladyou’realive.ButIalsohateyou.
Beau:Hateyoutoo,bro.
Sloaneisincredible.Sheweavesmagiconstage.
I’vecometoknowherbodywelloverthelastcoupleofmonths,butI’mstillinaweofthewayshemoves,theattentiontodetail.Fromthetipsofhertoestotheveryendsofherfingers,she’sinperfectcontrolofeverymovementwithouteventrying.
She’ssteppedintothisroleandmadeitlookeffortlessbeyondcompare.Sheleapsacrossthestageandlandssosoftly,andfromthefrontrow,IfeellikeI’mrighttherewithher.
Inthemoment…oblivioustotheornatetheaterandeverypersonaroundme.
Butshe’salwayshadthiseffectonme.Theabilitytopullmeoutofmyheadjustbychatting,ordancing,orrestingahandonmyshoulder.
It’slikesheandIaretetheredtogether,butshe’sthestrongone.Thepillar.Andwhentroubledwaterswashmedownstream,allIhavetodoisfollowtheropethattiesmebacktoher.
Italwaysleadsmebacktoher.
Gettingtowatchherdosomethingshelovesfromthefrontrowratherthanbackinthenosebleedsissomethingspecial.Thespotwherehertattoositsitches,andIpressmyarmagainstit.
Imissedherfirstone,butIwouldn’tmisstherestifIcouldhelpit,evenifitmeansagrown-assmansittingbyhimselfinthefrontrowattheballet.
SeemsliketheleastIcouldendureforher.
BecauseIlovehavingheratmygames,andIknowshemustfeelthesame.Whenthedancerslineuptotaketheirfinalbows,hereyesfindmineandaheart-stoppinggrinspreadsoutoverhercaptivatingface.
AndIrealizeitthen…I’ddoanythingtoseethisgirlsmile.
Theminutethevelvetcurtaincloses,I’mup,stridinglefttowardasidedoorthatleadsbackstagewhereshetoldmetowaitforher.ExceptIdon’twait.
Ican’twait.
Ipushrightthroughthatswingingdoor,fingersitchingtotouchher,chestachingtohaveherheadrestagainstit,andcockswellingaftersolongstuckwatchinghertightfuckingbodyglidearoundonstage.
It’sagoodthingIdidn’twatchherdancemuchwhenshefirstjoinedthiscompany.Iwouldn’thavebeenabletokeepmyhandsoffher,andnowIjustdon’tcare.
NowIknowmyhandsbelongonher.
“CanyoutellmewhereSloaneWinthropis?”Iaskawomanwalkingdownthedimhallwaywithaclipboardinherhand,glassesshoveduponthetopofherhead.
Shelooksmeupanddownwithablankexpressiononherface.“Who’sasking?”
Ihesitatebutonlyforaminute.“Herboyfriend.”
Shelooksmeoveragain,thistimemoreslowly,butwithalittletwisttoherlips.“Huh.Well,goodforher.She’sdownthatway.”Thewomanturnsandpointstotheareafromwhichshecame.“Leftwhenyouhittheendandthenallthewaydownthathallway.Lastdoorontheright.”
Iofferherachagrinedsmile,knowingtheremusthavebeentalkwhileSloaneandIwereaway.TheyannouncedherweddingtoSterlinginthenewspaper.Hercolleagueswouldhaveknown—maybetheyevenknowhim.
“Thanks.”Inodmyheadandpassthewoman,sensinghergazeonmeasIheaddownthehallway.Backstageisaflurryofactivity.Dancersareeverywhereinthehallways,laughingandchatting.IhearthepopofachampagnebottleastheyunwindforaChristmasbreak.
Turningleft,Ifeelthetug.ThepulltoSloane.Afteryearsofdenyingmyselfthepleasureofherproximity,mybodyhaslostallpatiencewithmeanddesperatelywantstobeclosetoher.
MyknucklesrapagainstthedoorlabeledwithSugarplumFairy.
“Justasecond!”Sloane’svoiceonlyratchetsupthetensioninmybody,andwhenshefinallyswingsthedooropen,I’monher.
Myhandlandsonherthroat,mylipscrashingagainsthersasItoweroverher.Shetensesmomentarily,clearlycaughtbysurprise,butitdoesn’ttakeherlongtocatchup.HerhandsslideupthearmsofmysuitjacketasIwalkherbackwardintothedressingroom,kickingthedoorshutbehindus.
Iturnherinstantly,shovingherupagainstthewallbesidethedoor.Becausewe’rejustnotgettinganyfurtherthanthisrightnow.
Shelookedtoogood.Thereweretoomanyeyesonher.Morethanjustmine.AndI’mfeelingalittleuntetheredandalotterritorial.
“Hi,Jas,”shehuffsoutplayfullyagainstmylips,butallIofferbackisalowgrowlasItakehermouthagain.Myhandsslideintothethincottonrobeshehaswrappedaroundherslenderbody.Afterafewwellplacedtugs,it’sgone,poolingatherfeetonthefloorwhereitbelongs.
“Youwereperfect,”Ibreathe,gazerakingoverher.Wideeyesandheavingchest.Flimsybodysuitovertights.Slippersoff.Ornatecostumegone.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”Ithumbthethinstrapofherbodysuitbeforetuggingitdown,lettingithangoffhertonedarm.“Youstoletheshow.Everyeyeinthehousewasonyou.”
Shelaughs,andmythumbshootsuptopressagainstherlips,silencingher.“I’mnotjoking.Everyonewasstaringatwhat’smine.”
Hermouthpopsopenunderthepadofmythumb.Ismileandtiltmyheadintoherneck,runningthetipofmynoseuptheslopingcurve.“AndnowIwanttotakeitback.Remindyouwhoyoubelongto.”
SheletsoutasmallgaspasIdroptomykneesinfrontofher,jerkthebodysuittotheside,andusemyfingerstoripaholeintheflimsytights.
Ipushafingerinandherpussyclenchesinsurprise.
She’snotreadyyet,butshewillbe.
Iteartheholeopenwiderandthentugonelegupovermyshoulder,watchingherspreadformeasshewhimpersanddropsherfingersintomyhair.Idiveinwithonelong,slowlick.Shesquirmsagainstmytongue.
“Whodoesthisbelongto,Sloane?”
“You,you,you,”shechantsbreathlessly,andwhenIglanceup,she’stossedherheadbackinecstasy.Alreadysofuckinggoneforme.
Me.
Iliftheroppositelegtomyshouldersoshe’sstraddlingmyfaceasIpushherintothewall—onehandsplayedacrossherstomachtoholdherinplace,andtheotherwrappedaroundherrightthigh,fingersdigginginhard.
Imakeafeastofheragainstthatwall.Istartoffslowly,lickingherupeachsideandthenstraightthroughhercenter.Hittingeverywhereexceptherclit.GettingoffonteasingherandfeelingherwritheagainstmeasshedesperatelytriestoshiftherhipssoIhitthatspot.
ButIdon’tgivein.Itasteherarousalbuilding,feelthetensioninthewayherlegsclamparoundmybody.Idragmyhanddownandslidetwofingersintoher.Theygosofuckingeasynow.I’vegotafrontrowseatforthesecondtimetonight.HertightlittlepussypartsandsqueezesaroundmydigitsasIscissortheminsideherunderthebrightlightsofherdressingroom.
Wetnessleaksout,makingafuckingmessofus.
“Jasper.”Shemoans.“More.Please.”
“Sofuckingpolite,”Imurmurback,glancinguptoseeherwatchingmewithshiny,heavyeyes.Myfingersbrushoverherclit,andshejoltsaroundme.“Sotightandreadyandneedyforme.Andyoudancedsofuckingprettyforeveryone.Ithinkyoudeservemoretonight,don’tyou?”
Shenods,topteethpressingintoherpillowybottomlip.Howdesperateshelooksrightnowmakesmegrin.
JustasdesperateformeasIamforher.
SoIrewardherforthat.
Islidetwofingersbackintoheranddropmymouthallatonce.Myteethgrazeherclitasmyfingersworkher,andsheletsoutalittleshriek.Ilatchon,suckingherintomymouth,stillworkingmyfingersandtongue,gettingoffonthewayhershriekmorphsintoaloudmoan.
Amoanthatendswith,“Oh,god.Jasper.I’mgoingtocome.”
Myfingerstakeonatwistingmotion,andIdon’tletup.Shethrashesaroundme,legsshakingandfingersyankingalmostpainfullyinmyhairasshecomesapartaboveme.
Andnotquietlyeither.Shecallsoutmyname,louderthansheshould,butIdon’tcare.Igetoffonpeopleknowingwhatwe’redoinginhere.
Afteryearsofkeepingitasecret,itfeelsgoodtoletitout.
Whenherlimbssoften,Iglanceup,fingersstillstuffedinsideher.
Hereyesshinedownatme.“Well,thatwasunexpected.Betterthangoingforanothertattoo?”Shequirksabrow,andImatchtheexpressionasIwithdrawfromherwarmbody.
“SomuchbetterandI’mnotevendone.”Ipushtostand,takingherbodywithme,slidingherupthewallasmyfreehandgrappleswithmypants.
Belt.Button.Shirt.Boxers.
Iripthroughitallandshoveintoherasherlegswraparoundmywaist.“Fuckingthefancyprimaballerinaupagainstthewalllikethefilthygirlshereallyis?Much,muchbetterthangettinganothertattoo.”
MyhipsflexasIbuckintoheragain.
“Fuck,”hereyesflashandfluttershutasherheadrollsagainstthewall.She’ssogonerightnow,andwe’repastthepointofpretendingourbodiesdon’tdrivetheotheroneabsolutelyinsane.
“Eyesonme,Sloane.”Myfingersfindherthroatandgiveherawarningsqueeze.
Lashesflickopen,andshelooksmestraightintheeye.Nohesitation.Noshyness.I’msureI’vefuckedalltheshynessoutofherinthepastseveralweeks.
“Harder,”sheurges.
“Whichone?”Ipushmyhipsforwardhard,slammingherintothewall.“Pussy?”Thenpulsemyhandaroundherneck,“Orthroat?”
Heatsimmersinheraquaeyes,theyburnsofuckinghotwhenshetipsherchinatmeinchallenge.“Both.”
Isnap.
IfeellikeIunleashalifetimeofpent-uptension.
IfeelunhingedasIfuckherintothewallwithoutmercy,spurredonbyherloudcriesandnailsdigginginagainstthebackofmyneck.Myhandsqueezingjustalittlebitharderattheslendercolumnofherthroat—justhowshelikesit.
She’ssmall,easytomaneuverhowIwant,butthere’snothingfragileaboutSloane.ShetakeseverythingIhavetogiveandmeetsmewithequalfervor.
ThewetslappingofourbodiesmingleswiththerattleofthepaintingonthewalleverytimeIdriveintoherbody.
I’mhardandunrelenting.
Butaddedtooursoundtrackisherdemanding,“More,”and,“Harder,”andIdon’tholdback.There’snothingtenderorsweetaboutusrightnow,butwehavelotsofmomentslikethattogether.Wereachforeachotherinthemiddleofthenight,slowlymovingtogether.We’replayfulinthemornings,mystubbleagainstherinnerthighsmakinghergiggleandgasp.
Butrightnow?
Thisistherapeutic.Likewe’repunishingeachotherforsomanyyearsandmomentsmissed.
Ifshewantsmoreandharder,I’llgiveit.
I’llgiveheranythingshewantsatthispoint.
“Jasper,Ineedmore.”Hereyeslockwithmine.Mywildnessreflectsrightbackintohers.Idroparoughkisstohermouthandpullout,flippingher.I’mmanhandlingherandthrivingonthewayshemovesthewayIwantherto.
“Handsflatonthewall,Sloane.Bendover.Spreadyourlegs.”SheobeysandIreachdown,furtherrippingthewetholeinhertightsandtuggingthebodysuitwayofftotheside.
Shetiltsherassoutinoffering,andIstepclose.“Youwantmetofillyouup,Sloane?”
“Yes,”shemoans,pressingherselfbackintome.
“Sayit,”Ipalmherfirmasscheeks,spreadingherandteasingherentrancewiththeheadofmycock.
“Iwantyoutofillmeup,please.”
Ismirkandleannexttoherear.“Ofcourse,youdo.You’refuckingdesperateforit,aren’tyou?”
It’sherturntosmirkoverhershoulderatme.“Yeah,butsoareyou.”
Herhipsswivelinataunt,andIgrabthemhard,shovingintoher.ShebarelylastsbentoverbeforeI’veforcedherrightupagainstthewallasmydickdrivesinandoutofher,hittingthatspotIknowshelovessomuch.
Iknowbecauseofthenoisesshemakes.Thewayshepushesbackonme.Thewayshecriesout.
ShekeepsherhandsonthewalllikeIinstructedbutisstilllookingoverhershoulderatmewithsomuchfuckingloveinhereyes.MorelovethanI’veeverseen.MorelovethanIdeserveorknowwhattodowith.
ThekindofloveI’vebeenknowntosully.
Igripherchinandkissher.IkissherhardandfullofallthefeelingsI’mtoofucked-uptoputatitleon.
Andthenwetoppleovertheedgetogether,intosomethingI’mtryingnottoletpanicme.
Ifighttostayinthemoment,withherpressedtightlyagainstme.
We’resointune.
Soperfecttogether.
Soperfecttogetherthaticytendrilsslinkdownmyspine.BecauseI’mme.Andanytimesomethingisperfect,italwaysgoestoshit.
Theknockonthedoorisproofofthat.33Jasper
“Justasecond!”Sloanemeltsagainstme.
We’replasteredagainsteachother,breathingheavilywhenthere’sanotherhardknockatthedoor.
Ismirk,runningmynosealongthebackofherneck,dampwithsweatandlittleflyawaysloosefromthetightbuninherhair.“Someoneprobablyheardyouscreamingandwantstocheckifyou’realright.”
HershouldersshakewithlaughterasIpepperkissesoverthem.“I’mnotalright.Youmadeamessofme,andmylegsaregoingtogiveoutifyouletmego.”
Withadeeplaugh,Iswoopintoacrouch,pickingherrobeupoffthefloor,knowingitwillbethequickest,easiestwaytocoverherup.Withmeholdingitwide,sheslidesherarmsintotheloosesleeveswhileIsettleitaroundhershoulders.
Ispinhertofaceme,pressaquickkisstoherravagedlips,andstepbacktofixmyownpants.Idon’tbothertuckingmydressshirtin.IjustmakesureI’mclothedandshovemydickbackintohiding.
Sloane’sdeftfingersmakequickworkofthebeltaroundherwaist,andafteraonce-overofme,shenods.Andblushes,pushingthoselittleflyawaysbackwithadisbelievingshakeofherhead.
Shegivesmethatlookalot,likeshecan’tbelievewe’rehere,doingthis.SometimesIfeelthesame.Likeit’salljustadream.
Whensheswingsthedooropen,thatdreamfreezesinplace.Wewakeupfromitabruptly,likewe’vefallenrightoutofbed.
RobertandCordeliaWinthroparestandinginthehallway.Robertisred,almostvibratingwithfury.Sloane’smomisstandingafewfeetbehindhim,eyesdroppedtohershoeswithanembarrassedblushonhercheeks.
“Whatthefuckdoyouthinkyou’redoinghere?”Robertasks.
Sloane’sarmscrossandshegoesinstantlyrigid.“Icouldaskyouthesamething,Dad.”
“Iwasn’ttalkingtoyou,Sloane.Theballetcompanyannouncedinthenewspaperyouwerefillingin,andwewouldnevermissourlittlegirlonstage.I’mtalkingtoyou.”Hismeatypointerfingerjabsinmydirection.“Whatthefuckareyoudoinginherewithmylittlegirl?”
WhatIwanttosayis,IthinkyouheardexactlywhatIwasdoingtoyourlittlegirl,butIhavemorerespectforSloanethantogothere.
Ihithimwithablanklookandpushmyhandsintomypockets,whichjustdrawshisgazetomyuntuckedshirt.“WhatIshouldhavedonealongtimeago.”
Robert’shandtremblesashethrustshisfingermywaywithforce,rightoverSloane’sshoulder,likesheisn’teventhere.“Itoldyoutostaythehellawayfromher.”Hisloosejowlsjigglewiththeforceofhisanger.
“Itseemsyoufailedtoinformmeofthat.”Sloane’shandpropsagainstthedoorasthoughshe’sblockingherfatherfromgettingatme.Protectingmelikealways.
Toherowndetriment.
“Sloane,moveasidelikeagoodgirl.Thisdoesn’tconcernyou.We’llhaveplentytodiscussonceIhavetakenthetrashout.”
Goodgirl?Isheoutofhisfuckingmindtalkingtoherlikeshe’sadog?
Sloanegasps.I’vealwaysknownhe’sapieceofshit,butIthinkthismightbethefirsttimeshe’sreallyseeingit.
Withtwolongstrides,I’matherside,entirelyblockingthedoorway.
“Talktoherlikethatagainandseehowitendsforyou.”Theangry,fucked-upteenagerinmeflarestolife.I’veworkedhardtogetcontrolofmyselfovertheyears,andRobertfuckingWinthropjustundiditallwithonewell-placedtugonaloosestring.
“YouforgetwhatItoldyou,boy?Youwantthatcareer?Youwantthatpaycheck?Icanstillruinyou.Icantakeitallawayinasecond.”Hesnapshisfingersforemphasis.
Thelogicalpartofmedoesn’twanttobelievehim.ThelogicalpartofmeknowsI’mahouseholdname.Anationalsensationastheheadlineswouldsay.Indispensabletomyteam—atleastwhenI’mplayingwell.
Sloanestepsuptoherdad,dwarfedbyhissizebutholdingherheadhighlikeshedoesn’tnoticeatall.Herdaintyfingerpointsatherfather,steadyandstrong.“Talktohimlikethatagainandseehowitendsforyou.”
“Sloane,letthementalk.”Hewavesherofflikeshe’scompletelyinconsequentialtohim.
Sherearsbackasthoughhe’sstruckher.AndIguessinawayhehas.
HealsotalkedtoherlikethatagainwhenItoldhimnotto.
Withonegentlehand,Iusherherbehindmybody,protectivenesspouringoutofme.“Getout.”
“I’llruinyou,Gervais.You’renotintheplanforher.You’reanorphanwhoworksintheentertainmentindustry.She’spracticallyCanadianroyalty.”
Myheadtilts,andRobertWinthropmightaswellbeapuck.BecauseallIcanthinkisthatIneedtostophim.Stophisforwardmotionintothisroom.Andstophisstupidmouthfromrunning.
“IthinkSloanewillbethejudgeofthat.Ithinkwe’reallgoingtostepawayfromtellingSloanewhosheisandwhatsheneedstodo.IthinkSloaneisverysmartandverycapableofknowingwhatshewantsforherself.”
MygazeflitsoverhisshouldertoCordelia,whoseeyesareboringintomine.Shelooksangrybutnotatme.It’sthetypeofangerthatcouldbrimoverintohot,quiettears.
Iknowthatanger.Iknowthosetears.Theytastelikeregret,andthat’swhat’swrittenalloverherface.
Shelookssomuchlikeherdaughter,it’shardnottoseetheparallelsbetweenthem.It’shardnottoseeheraslivingthelifethatSloanecouldbeyearsfromnow.Havingtowatchherowndaughtergetpawnedofflikechattel.
Ishakemyhead.Whatfuckingyearisit?IguessIreallymustbefromthewrongsideofthetracksbecausethesebusinesstransactionmarriagesarejustnotapartofmyworld.
“Isthatso,Sloaney?”Robertpeersaroundme,bendingdowncondescendingly,lookingfartooamusedbyhisdaughter’sdistress.
Iwanttodeckhiminthefaceandwatchhimcrumpletothefloor.Butdespitemylowbrowupbringingandbeinganorphanwhoworksintheentertainmentindustry,I’mnotdumb.He’sthetypeofassholewhowillwaltzintohisfancylawyer’sofficeandfuckingcryaboutit.
Sloane’sfingerslinkwithmineasshestepsclosetome,holdingherchinup,refusingtocower.“Youneedtoleave.WhenI’mreadytospeaktoyou,Iwill.AndmynameisSloane.NotSloaney.”
Robertblinksonceashestraightens.Heexpectedhertorolloverandshowhimherbelly,notcurlherlipathim.
I’mproudofher.Ofhowmuchshe’sgrowninthelastcoupleofmonths.
Thebeefymantugsatthelapelsofhisjacket.“I’vemadeusadinnerreservationforyourbirthdayonWednesday.Ifyoudeigntograceuswithyourpresence,itwouldbelovelytohavethebirthdaygirlthere.”
Heslipsintobeingacondescendingassholesoeasily.Myteethgrind,andmyfingerscurltightlyaroundherswhiletheoppositehandballseasilyintoafist.
“Jasperhasagamethatnight,”shesaysmatter-of-factly.
Robertsmiles.“That’sfine.Heisn’tinvited.Notifhewantstokeepthatgig.”
Sloane’schindipsandhershouldersrollinward.Disappointmentpaintseverycreviceofherbody,butshedoesn’tofferaresponse.
He’salmostoutthedoorwhenheturnsbackanddelivershiskillingblow.“Thinkhard,Sloane.Ifyou’regoingtobemasterofyourowndestinyorwhateverthisnewphaseis,youhavetoconsidersomethings.DoyouwanttobethereasonJasperGervaisgoesbacktowherehecamefrom?That’salongwayforamanlikehimtofall.”
Withthatherapshisfingersagainstthedoorframeandstridesawaylikeheownsthefuckingplace.
Cordelia’shauntedeyesareashotstraighttothechest.Thelookofpleadingshehitsmewithisheavyanduncomfortable.
AlmostasuncomfortableasthesilencethatdescendsoverSloaneandmeintheaftermathofthatconversation.
IwanttotellherthatIloveher.ThewordspracticallyscorchthetipofmytongueasIholdthemback.Butit’snotenough.Ormaybeit’stoomuch.
Ofcourse,Iloveher.Ialwayshave.Butthis?Now?IlovehersomuchdifferentlythanI’velovedasingleotherpersoninmylife.
Atruck,ahotel,asnow-coveredrunawaylane,itdoesn’tmatter—she’shome.
She’stheairIbreatheandthatfuckingterrifiesme.
BecausenomatterhowfiercelyIlovesomeone,Iknowtheyalwaysleave.34Sloane
Dad:7p.m.WednesdayatTheFrontier.Makethesmartchoice.
Sloane:Smartforme?Orsmartforyou?
Wedriveintensesilence,clutchingoneanother’shands.Idon’tthinkI’veletJasper’shandgoforlongerthanafewsecondshereandthere.
Andhe’sbeentheonetoreachforme.Everytime.
Afteryearsofreachingforhim,he’sreachingback.Ijustdon’tknowiftakinghishandisthesmartmoveanymore.
Iwentfromelatedandhorny,burstingwithallthemushyfeelings,toworryingmylovemightruinthisman’slife.
MydadpulledtherugoutfromundermewithsuchforcethatI’mtoppling.I’mAlicedownthefuckingrabbitholeintoWonderlandwhereabsolutelynothingmakessense.
Exceptnothingaboutthissituationischarmingorquirky.
WepullupinfrontofthelittlebungalowI’veworkedthehardestonupdating.Theonewe’vebeenplayinghousein.Theoneheboughtjusttogivemydadasolidfuckyou.AndnowI’mseeingwhy.
Isitstunned,seeingthehouseinanewlight.Itfeltlikewewerebuildingahomehere.We’vemadeapointtomakeloveineveryroom.I’veputawreathonthefrontdoorandtwistedChristmaslightsaroundthepatiobanisters.
Mydadhasmanagedtotarnisheventhisforme.ChestnutSprings.Jasper.Mylovelife.I’monceagainplungedintothaticebathofrealizingI’vebeentheperfectlittlepawnandhaven’tbeensmartenoughtonotice.
“Ihavetogobackintothecityearlyforpracticeinthemorning,”Jaspersays.
Inod.WhenheaskedmewhereIwantedtobe,Isaid,“TakemetoChestnutSprings.”
Ihadzerodesiretostayinthesamecityasmydad.
“Youokay?”Hiswarmfingerssqueezemine,pulsinglikeaheartbeat.
Jasperhasalwaysbeenmyheartbeat,andIstillwonderifI’mhis.IfhefeelsthisasintenselyasIdo.
Ifhelovesme.
Hehasn’tsaidthewordsandneitherhaveI.Inaway,we’vefelttenuous,toounsettled.Fragile,likeastackofblocksthat’sslightlyaskew.Onebriefrumbleanditcouldallgotoppling.Webothhaveshitwehaven’tbeenbraveenoughtoface.We’vehadourheadsinthesand.
Couldhelovemeifitmeantlosinghiscareer,hispassion?It’stheonethinghe’sworkedsohardtoachieve.Heovercameeverythingforit.
“No,”Iwhisper.“I’mnot.”
“I’msorry,Sunny.”
“Yeah.”Isighraggedly,finallyturningtolookatJasper.Hiskeenmidnighteyesanalyzemeunderfurrowedbrows.Heissodamnhandsomeinhisexpensivesuit.He’samanofcontradictions.Ruggedandpolished.Hotandcold.Softandhard.Happyandsad.Brokenandmended.
ApatchworkquiltthatIlovetosnugglewith.
Juststaringathimcracksmyfuckingchestopen.Icouldgivehimthefreedomtokeepeverythinghe’sworkedsohardfor.Eventhoughitwouldripmeaparttodoit.
ButI’dratherhurt.
I’dratherhaveaJasper-shapedholeinmychestthandraghimoffthelittlechunkofhappinesshe’scarvedoutforhimselfjustsoIcankeephim.Thislifehasbeensounfairtohiminsomanyways.Overandoveragain.
Idon’twanttobeanotherthingthat’sunfairtohimbytakingmorethanhecanreasonablygivesomeone.
“Sunny…”Heturnsinhisseat,brushingcallousedfingersovermycheek.“Whyareyoucrying?”
Myfreehandwobblesuptomyfaceandcomesawaywet.Ididn’tevenrealizeIwascrying.Istareattheglisteningwateronmyhand,andittakesmebacktomyalmostweddingday,watchingthatlittledropletofbloodbeadonmyhand.
Jasper’shandcupsmycheek,thepadsofhisfingerstrailingoverthebackofmyneck.“Idon’twanttobethereasonyou’reestrangedfromyourfamily.Idon’twanttomakeyouchoose.BecauseIknowhowbadlyithurtstoloseyourfamily,nomatterhowterribletheymightbe.Idon’twanttotellyouwhattodo.Thisisn’taboutme.Ijustwantyoutobehappy.Gotothedinner.Mendyourfences,burnyourbridges.Whateveryouneedtodo.I’llgotomygame.Itdoesn’tmattertome.”Histhumbraspsacrossmycheek,andhisvoicecracks.“Justtellmehowtomakeyouhappy.”
“Idon’twanthimtoruinyourcareer.”Isniff,clearingmythroatasIlookupintotheeyesthathaveheldmecaptiveforeighteenyears.
Hewagshishead.“Youwon’t.”
“Hesaidhewould.”
Hecan’t.”
“Youdon’tknowthat!”Mywhispersturntoanagitatedshout.“Youdon’tknowthepullhehas.Theconnections.I’veseenitmyentirelifeandsomehowneverjudgedthewayhewieldsthatpower.I’vebeensostupid.Soblind.”
“Hecan’t.Andyouaremanythings,butstupidisnotoneofthem.You’regoingtostopsayingthatnowbecauseI’mnotlivinginfearofhimanymore,Sunny.Andyoushouldstoplivinginfeartoo.Ispentyearslosingsleepoverthatthreat.AndI’mdone.Blind,maybe?ButIcanrelate.We’reoftenblindtothepeoplewelovethemost.”
TheexpressiononJasper’sfacerightnowisoneofpurefocusanddetermination.Purelove.
ButIpushpastthat.Batitaway.Clampmyheartshut.Sometimeslovingmeanslosing,andIlovehimenoughtodothat.Ifheneedsmeto,Iwill.
“Butwhatifhecan?Whatifhecancutyouoffatthekneesandmakeitalldisappear?It’snotoutoftherealmofpossibilitywhereRobertWinthropisconcerned.Thenwhatwouldyoudo?”
Jasperblinksatme,goingstillinthequietSUV.
MyhandclencheshisasIputitallonthetable.ThequestionIknowwilleithermakeorbreakmyheart.“Areyouwillingtotakethatgamble?”
Irollmylipstogether,willingJaspertosayofcoursehe’lltakethatgamble.Butalsowillinghimtosayno.Iwanthimtokeepwhathe’sworkedsohardfor,notthrowitallawayoversomelovesickgirl.
ThesecondsstretchoutandJaspersaysabsolutelynothing.Hisexpressionisstricken,andhiseyesstareoffintosomefarawayplace.
Icanimaginewhere.Toadayalong,longtimeago.Onethatstillhauntshiseverydecision,oneIdon’tknowhe’lleverbefreeof.
Jasperfeelshisdecisionthatdaylosthimeveryoneheloved.
NowIworrythathe’llbeforcedtomakeadecisionthatwillputhimbacktherealloveragain.
Buthesaysnothing.Hedoesn’ttellmewhatIwanttohear.Andhedoesn’ttellmewhatIdon’twanttohear.
Hejustfreezes.Likethatdayontherunawaylane.
Andsomehowthathurtsworse.Myheartfeelsflayedinmychest,likeit’stryingtocrawlupmythroattoescapethepainofbeinginmybody.
Myheadunderstandshisindecision,butmyheartwantedhimtosay,“Yes!I’mwillingtotakethatgamble.”
Myheartneededhimtosaythat.
Isqueezehishandonemoretime,swallowinghardtoforcemyselfintoastateofcoolcomposure.IfIcandanceonbloodytoes,Icanmakeitoutofthisvehiclewithoutcrumbling.
“It’sokay.Iunderstand.ButIthinkyoushouldgobacktoyourplaceinthecitytonight.Makesureyou’rereadyforyourgamesthisweek.Takethetimeandspace.Webothneedit.I’llcallyou.”
I’llcallyou.IalmostlaughathowclichéIsound.Whatcouldbeworse?It’snotyou,it’sme?
Whenhedoesn’trespond,Ipeekathisface.Afamiliarfrozenexpressiongracinghisfeatures.
“Iknowyou’recrumblingrightnow.Icanseeyoufallingapartrightbeforemyeyes,Jas.ButIalsoknowyouneedtobetheonetoputyourselfbacktogether.Ifit’sme,I’llconstantlybetheonemendingyouwhenyoubreak.Pullingyoubackfromthatledge.AndIcan’tberesponsibleforthatfortherestofourlives.Thatneedstocomefromyou.”Myvoicecracks.“Icanbarelyputmyselfbacktogetherthesedays.”
AndwiththatIpathishandandpullaway,leavingthewarmthofhisvehicle,turningwithmyheadheldhightowalktothefrontdoor.Inanevenbutforcedtempo,Ibreatheinthroughmynoseandoutthroughmymouth.Ileanonmyyearsoftraining,walkinggracefullywithmyshouldersrolledbackandheadheldhigh.
It’snotuntilI’vesafelyclosedthefrontdoorthattheenginerevsandwheelscrunchonthesnowpackedstreetthatIletmycomposureslip.
ThenIcrumbletoo.35Sloane
Summer:Ithinkweneedtodoaboozybrunch.
Willa:I’m.Pregnant.
Summer:It’snotalwaysaboutyou,Willa.
Willa:Whoelsewoulditbeabout?
Summer:Winterjustshowedupandaskedifwecouldgetcoffee.Ireallywanttotalktoher.But…Idon’tknowwhattotalktoherabout.Ineedpeopletoruninterference.
Willa:Youcantalkaboutwhatapieceofshitherhusbandis?HowcuteTheois?
Summer:Nottouchinganyofthatwithaten-footpole.Also,Sloanemightbedead.She’sjustlyingonthefloorofmygymstaringattheceiling.
Willa:Sloane.Pickupyourphone.Deathisn’tanoption.You’retooyoungandhot.AndIstillhaven’tfoundouthowbigJasper’sdickis.
Sloane:Whydon’tyoujustaskhim?
Summer:Lmao.Yeah,Wils.Justdrophimacasualline.
Willa:You’realive!He’ssotall!HishandsaresoBIG.Pleaseconfirmthesize.
Sloane:Hisfeetarebigtoo.
Theneonlightsabovemeflicker,andIwatchonelongbulbburnoutentirely.Littlespotscropupinfrontofmyeyesfromstaringatthemforsolong.
IwashotwhenIfinisheddancing,butnowthesweatonmyskinhascooledanddiscomfortseepsintomypores.Istilldon’tmove.
Discomfortismynewdefault.
I’vebeeninthisstudioforhoursnow,dancinguntilIcan’tthinkanymore.Idon’twanttothink.Ilaidinbedawakeallnightthinking.
IeventhoughtaboutrespondingtoJasper’stextmessagethismorning.AndthenIdidn’tbecauseIdon’tknowwhattosay.
Goodmorning.
Actually,no.It’snotagoodmorning.It’sashitmorning.AndIlovehimsomuchIcouldeasilyslipintohatinghim.Icouldsaysomethingcruel.Icouldmakehimfeelbad.
Itmightmakemefeelbetterforaminutetolashout.TomakehimhurtasintenselyasIam.
ButdeepdownIknowhealreadyis.Iknowhim.Iknowhe’spanicking.He’slockedup.Frozensolidlikeonthesteeprunawaylane.
Iknowhe’ssufferingandthatfuckingkillsme.
What’sworseisIpushedhimaway.Ithoughtitmightbebetterforhimthisway.NowI’mnotsosurethat’strue.I’mnotsureofanything—myselfincluded.
ForyearsIwantedtogetintoJasper’shead.Untilnow.Now,Ithinkit’sbesttonotknowwhat’sgoingoninsidehishead.
Ithurtslessthatway.
“Okay,you’vebeenlyingherefartoolong.Mysisterisadoctor,soshe’sgoingtocomecheckonyou.”
MyheadrollsacrossthefloortopeeratSummerinthedoorwaytothebackstudioofthegym.She’sleaningagainsttheframewhileherequallyadorableblondesisterstandsbesideher,lookingnotablyuncomfortableinherscrubsandpuffydownjacket.
Shegivesmeanawkwardwaveandatightsmile,notnearlyashomicidalasthenightIfirstsawher.
Iliftahandbackintheirdirection.“I’mperfectlyfine.Nocauseforalarm.Butyoudoneedtoreplacealightbulbinhere.”Igestureuptotheceiling.“Actually,ifwe’reofferingdoctoradvice…isstaringatlightbulbsbadformyeyes?”
Wintershrugs.“Probablyisn’tideal.”
“Okay.”Isigh.“I’llclosethem.Doctor’sorders.”
Winterletsoutadrychuckle,butSummerdoesn’t.Herfootstepsapproach,andwhenshenudgesmyfootwiththetoeofhersneaker,Ipeekupather.
“Let’sgo,”shesays.“Iknowwhatyouneed.”
Inod,lettingmyeyesdriftshut.“Yeah.Atimemachine.”
“No.Aboozybrunch.”
“Summer,it’saMonday!”Wintersoundsalarmedanditmakesmelaugh.
“So?Youjustfinishedalongshift,andI’mdonewithmyclientsfortheday.Willaisboredandblowingupmyphoneaboutpenissizes.AndSloanelookshalfdead.Weallgotsomewheretobe?Importantthingstodo?Youeagertoheadbacktothecity?”
Winter’slipspursetightlyassheshakesherhead.
Ipointather,alreadyfeelingalittletipsy.Lackofsleepwilldothattoagirl.“Girl,same.Let’sjustholeupinChestnutSpringswithahotcountryboyandnevergobacktothecity.Thecityfuckingsucks,andsodoeseveryonewholivesthere.”
AsmallsmileplaysacrossWinter’simpassiveface,andsheshrugs,crossedarmsrisingandfallingasshedoes.“IsupposeIcoulddrinktothat.”
“Heckyeah!”Summerwhoops.“I’llgiveWilsacall,andwecanmeetheratLePamplemousse.”
“Here,haveanotherone.”Willapushesamimosaacrossthetabletowardmeinthecharming,sunlit,Parisian-stylecafe,drawingmyattentionoffofRosewoodStreet,themainthoroughfareinChestnutSprings.
“Ialreadyhaveone.”Itipmychampagnefluteather.
Shepointstomyoppositehand.“Yeah,butthathandisempty.AndI’mnotgoingtodrinkit.I’mpregnant.”SherollshereyeslikeI’mdumbandplacestheglasssoitbrushesupagainstthetipsofmyfingers.
“Whydidyouorderitthen?”Idon’tfightit.Icurlmyfingersaroundthestemoftheglassandbringitcloser.
Willashrugswithalightlaugh.“Idunno,wantedtobepartoftheboozybrunch.”
Winterarchesabrowfrombesideher.“You’reliterallyhere.Atboozybrunch.Whatmoredoyouneed?”
Willastareslonginglyatmydouble-fistedmimosas.“Booze.Obviously.”
“Whataboutsomeorangejuiceinachampagneflute?”Summerofferssweetly.
Willamakesagroaningnoise.“That’sjustoffensive.”
Myeyesbouncebetweenthethreewomen,andIrealizeI’malreadyfeelingmorehuman.Smilingisn’ttheHerculeaneffortitfeltlikeearlier.
Wintertakesadeepswig.“Thisdrinktastesfantastic.Ishoulddothismoreoften.”
Willa’selbownudgesherside.“Fuckyeah,youshould.”
Summernodsbeforeshylyadding,“Ilikehavingyououthere,Winter.”
Iliftmyglassacrossthetable.“I’llcheerstothat.IcouldusealittleWinterinspiration.IwatchedyoudressTheodowntheothernight,andIneedtochannelthatwiththemeninmylife.”
Sheclinksherglassagainstmine,butherheadtilts.“I’mnotsureI’msomeonetoaspiretointhemandepartment.”Iquirkabrow,eyesdroppingtotheringonherfinger.Shenoticesandjustsays,“Yeah.That.”
“Whenisthatending?”Willaasksitsocasually,likeendingamarriageiscutanddry.Idon’tknowallthedirtydetailsofWinter’smarriage,butIknowit’scomplicatedashell.IalsoknowthatsheandSummerareonfragilefootingandspendingtimetogetherlikethisisnewforthem.
Theyallcameoutforme,butit’sclearthathavingWillaandmeheregivessomeextrapaddingbetweenthesisters.
Wintertakesanotherdeepslug,drainingtheflute.“Whofuckingknows?Ithinkdraggingitoutmakeshimhardorsomething.”Summercoughslikehermimosawentdownthewrongtube.Winterdoesn’tseemtonoticethough.Thealcoholmusthaveherfeelingloosealready.Shetipsherheadtipsinmydirection.“Sloane’sideaofhidingoutinChestnutSpringsissoundingreally,reallyappealing.WheredoIsignupforthis?”
Ipushmysparemimosaacrossthetabletoher,andshetakesitwithoutsayingasingleword.ThecloserIlookatWinter,themoreIthinkshemightneedthedrinksmorethanIdo.
Ifeelwrungout,butsheseemsprofoundlytired,likemyonesleeplessnightishernorm.
“Wannarentahousehere?”Iask.“I’mintheprocessofupdatingafewacrosstheroadfromSummer’sgym.”
ThatlightsWinter’sfaceup.“Yeah?”
“Yeah.Icanshowyouafterthisboozybrunch.”
“Jasper’shouses,huh?”Summeraskscuriously.
“Yeah,whydon’tyoutellusmoreaboutthat,”Willaurges.
Ituckastraypieceofhairbehindmyearanddropmyeyes.“Well,heactuallyownstheentireblock.I’vebeenpaintingand—”
Willawavesahand.“No,no,no.TellusaboutJasper.”
“Yeah!”Winterholdsupherglass.“Telluswhyyouwerelyingonthefloorforlikeanhour.”
Summerreachesunderthetableandgivesmykneeasqueeze,alwayssosweet.
“Idon’tevenknowwheretostart.”
“CanyouatleasttellusifJasperhasahugedick?”Willaleansacrossthetable.
Inod.
Wintersnorts.
Summergasps.
“Iknewit!”
SummergivesWillaachidinglook,wideninghereyesatherbestfriend.“Whydon’tyoustartatthebeginning,Sloane?”
Iflopbackinmychairandstareatthethreewomensittingwithme.“Well,I’dhavetogobacktotheveryfirsttimeIlaideyesonhimwhenIwastenyearsold.”
Acommunalwhooshofairleaveseveryone’slungs.Iliftmyglass.“Yeah.Cheerstothat,right?Adecadeslongunrequitedcrush.ExceptIrecentlyfoundoutitwasn’tsounrequited.”
Willa’shandrollsintheair.“Hencethewholerunaway-bride-shacking-up-with-her-friendthing,yeah?”
Myheadtipsbackandforth.“Imean,yeah.It’salittlemorecomplicatedthanthat.”
“What’stheissue?”Willaseemsconfused.
“Yeah,what’dhedo?”BitternessbleedsintoWinter’svoice.
“Hedidn’tdoanything.That’stheproblem.Hejustfroze.Hehadthisperfectmomenttotellmeeverything.Andhejustfroze.He’ssobroken.Lockedupsodamntight.AndIknowthereasonswhy.Idon’tevenreallyblamehim.Ijust…Iwantedtobeenoughforhimtopushpastit.”
Iblinkrapidly,takingahugeswig.“Everythinghedoesformesayshecares.ButIneed”—Iclickmytongueandgivemyheadasharpbob—“Idon’tfuckingknow.Iguessafteryearsofbelievinghedoesn’twantme,Ineedmorethanjusthimfallingintoahappy,simplelittlerhythmwithme.Iwanttofeellikehecan’tlivewithoutme.Likehe’ddoanythingtohaveme.Ifhecan’tfindthewordstotellme,Iwantactions.Just…something.”
Headsnod,andIfeelspurredonbythereassurance,thelackofsleep,andthechampagneonanemptystomach.
“Attheriskofsoundingpetty,IwanthimtobejustaslovesickasIam.I’vewantedhimforsodamnlong.I’malmostangryhenevernoticed.Iwanthimtoprovehenoticesnow.”
“Soareyouguys…brokenup?”Summerasks,hervoicesmallandtentative.
“No.Idon’tknow.”AdarklaughbubblesupinmeasIshrug.“Ithinkwe’rebothjusttraumatizedbyourupbringings.Adultingishardwhenyourparentsfuckyouup,yaknow?”
SummerandWintergiveeachotheraloadedlookbeforeWintersays,“Yeah.Ithinkwecanrelate.”
“DeepdownIknowJasperwillneverleaveme.Notevenatmyworst.That’sthethingaboutus.Wecanbothbeonourshittiestbehaviorandwe’llneverholditagainsteachotherforlong.”
“Ugh.Ilovethat.”Willasniffs.
“Iwanthimtomakemefeelsecure.ButIhaven’ttoldhimanythingtomakehimfeelsecureeither,andIknowheneedsthat.Basically,Ihavenoplanbecause…Ireallydon’tknowwhattodowithmyself.”Isigh,lookingupatthelightsaboveme,feelingalittleresponsibleforpushinghimaway.“IneedtofacemydadsothatIcanproperlymoveon.Startfresh.Ineedtofindmyownsecurityfirst.IjusthopeI’mnottoolate.Butthenthethoughtofhimlosinghockey?Hiscareer?Hispassion?Allforme?I’mworriedIcan’tstackupagainstthat.”
“Haveyounotseenthewaythatmanlooksatyou?”Winterisgrinningatmeeventhoughit’sanoddtimetobegrinning.
“Iguessnot.
“Ionlyjustmetyoutwoatdinnertheothernight,buthehangsoneveryword.Traceseverymovement.I’mnotsureheevenknewwhatelsewasgoingoninthatroom.Itmademe…itmademe,well,itmademefeelbitterifI’mbeinghonest.Italmosthurttowatch.But,ha,that’samething.”Sheglancesoutthewindow.“Atanyrate,I’mgivinghimandhisbigdickmyvoteofconfidence.Trustme.Youstackup.Ithinkhe’llcomearound.”
“Butwhatifhedoesn’t?”
Wintershrugs,andtheothertwocontinuetostareatmeallwide-eyed.Idoubttheyknowwhattosay.Jasperisamysterywrappedupinanenigmatomostpeople.
“Thenyoumoveon.”
Moveon.
Itakeadeepswallowofmymimosa.Itsoundssosimple.Soeasy.So…obvious.
Andyet,soimpossible.
IfmovingonfromJasperGervaiswasanoption,I’dhavedoneitbynow.36Jasper
Willa:Hi.It’sWilla.
Jasper:Hi,Willa.It’sJasper.
Willa:Iwasgoingtomessageyouandaskhowbigyourdickis,butIdon’tthinkCadewouldlovethat.
Jasper:Iwonderwhy.
Willa:Instead,IthoughtIwouldtellyouthatnowisyourchanceto*prove*howbigyourdickis.
Jasper:Thanksfortheadvice.
Willa:Thatwasn’tadvice.Itwasmotivation.
Willa:Also,you’llneverdobetterthanher.Idon’tcarehowfamousyouare.
“So,sheaskedifyou’dgambleyourcareerforashotwithherandyoudidn’tsayanything?”HarveyisglaringatmeovertherimofhissteamingcoffeemuglikeImightbethestupidestthinghe’severseen.
“IwentstraighttoRoman’shouseandwecalledteammanagementtosortthingsout.Explaineditall.”
“Didyoutellherthat?”
IjustglarebackatHarvey.“MaybeIshouldhave,butIwantedtogotoherwithaplan.Proof.Iwantedtobeabletoassureherthatmycareerwassafe.Thatweweresafe.”
Harveymustthinkmyplansucksbecausehesays,“Allyouboysareidiots.”
IcalledSloaneonMonday.SheignoredthecallbuttextedmetosayshewasoutwithSummerandWilla.Didn’tstopmefromsleepingonanairmattressintheemptyhousenextdoorjusttobeclosetoher.
IwenttoourhouseonTuesdayafterI’dfinishedattherink,butwhenIwenttothefrontdoor,IsawSloaneandWinterwithasix-packofBuddyzBestBeerandChinesetake-outboxessprawledoutbetweenthem.Theywerelyingonthefloor,staringattheceiling,laughinguncontrollably.Itseemedlikeadumbmomenttoknockandinterrupt.
Ialsojustplainchickenedout.Gotstuckinmyheadandletalltheself-loathinggetthebestofme.Iwalkedaway,settlingforlayingmyeyesonhertogetafix.Sleptnext-dooragain.
TodayisWednesday,andIshouldbeinthecitygettingreadyformygametonight,butI’mgoingoutofmymind.Sloanehasdinnerwithherdadtonight,andIhaveadivisionalgamewithtwopointsonthelinethatwedesperatelyneed.
ButI’mhere,talkingtotheonlymanI’devercometoforrealadvice.Because,whileInevermethislatewife,Isabelle,Iknowhewasanexcellenthusband.Hehastoknowathingortwoaboutrelationships,whereIdon’tknowanything.Haven’texactlyseengreatexamplesinmylife.
“Ifroze.Ipanicked.”LikeIalwaysdo.
“Jasper.”Mynameisasadsighonhislips.
“I’mtryingtoberespectfulofherwishes,”Iexplain.
“Son,I’mgoingtotellyousomethingthatI’donlysaytoamanasgoodasyou.”Hepauses,eyesscanningmyface.“Inthisinstance,you’rebeingtoorespectful.”
“Thanksforthewordsofwisdom.”IhuffoutadisbelievinglaughasIflopbackonthecouch,scrubbingatmyface.
ButeverytimeIclosemyeyes,IseeSloane.
She’sdancingorcarefullyrubbingaclayfacialonmyface.SometimesIseeSloanescaringothergirlsawayfrommeinarandombar.Othertimesshe’sswimminginamountainlake.IseeSloaneonstage.
Thecolorofthelinesontheice?Remindmeofhereyes.
WhenIputtoomuchcreaminmycoffeetheothermorning?Herhair.
WhenIusemyfavoritebodywash?Thewaysheleansintomeandsucksinahugebreath.
Sloaneiseverywhere.
“Soareyoutwobrokenupthen?Familyreunionsaregonnabeawkwardnow.Violetisgonnakillyou.”
“We’renotbrokenup,”Isnap.
Harveyarchesabrowatmeasiftosay,Watchyourtone,idiot.“Howdoyouknowyou’renotbrokenup?Didyoutalkaboutit?”
“Because…”
“Orbetterquestion.HowdoesSloaneknowyou’renotbrokenup?Ohboy,didsheevenknowyouweretogether?”
Igroanandstareupattheceiling.Anxietyswirlsinmychest.IrubatitasthoughIcaneaseitaway,butitdoesn’thelp.“Yeah.Sheknows.”
“How?”
“Idon’tknow.Youdon’tjustbreakusup.We’re…Idunno.We’rebiggerthanthat.”
“Imean,ify’allcanoverlooktail-babies,I’mnotsurewhatcouldreallykeepyouapart.”
Ishakemyhead.“Dick.”
“Soyou’relike…”Hishandwavesaround.“Soulmatesonabreak.Yeah,yeah.Makesperfectsense.”
Soulmates.Thatfeelsheavy.
Butitdoesn’tfeelwrong.
“Doyouloveher?”
IstareatHarvey,tryingtoworkitalloutinmyheadlikeIhavebeenfordays.“Ofcourse,Iloveher.I’vealwayslovedher.”
“Didyoutellherthat?”
Astonedropsinmystomach.“No.”
“Whynot?”
Ishrugnoncommittally,feelinglikeachildgettingascolding.
“Youknowwhy.Youknowthis.Sayitoutloud.”
MyvoiceisstrainedwhenIfinallysaythethingthat’sbeenholdingmeback.“BecausethepeopleIloveeitherdieorleaveme.”
Harveysighs,creakingbackintothebigleatherchairbesidethefireplaceintheexpansivelivingroom,“You’vebeentheappleofthatgirl’seyeforgoingontwodecadesandshehasyettoleave.Nomatterhowbadyouhurther.”
Nauseafollowsasinkingsensation.
“I’venevermeantto.IswearIdidn’tknow…notwhenanythingcouldhavecomefromitanyway.Imean,weallknewwhenshewasakid.Butasanadult?Howwasthissoobvioustoeveryonebutnoneofyouassholesmadefunofmeaboutituntilnow?”
“Becauseitneverseemedlikeyoufeltthesameway.Wediditenoughwhenshewasateenager.Itstartedtofeelcruel.Itwasn’tfunnyanymoreatsomepoint.Notsureifanyone’severtoldyouthis,Jasper,butyou’rehardtogetareadon.You’remoodyandtemperamental.Closedoff.Alittleinsecureatheart.”
“Okay.Yes,I’mgettingit.Thisisgreatformyself-confidence.Please,keepgoing.”Ipropmyelbowsonmykneesanddropmyhead.
“You’realsosensitive.”
He’snotwrong.IliveinmyheadandIfeelthingsintensely.Ialwayshave
“Andscared,”headds,justtoreallydrivethepointhomeofhowbadlyI’mfuckingthingsup.
“Yeah.Iam.I’mreallyfuckingscared.”
IhearHarvey’sheavyfootfallsashecrossestheroomandflopsdownonthecouchbesideme.Whenheplantshishandinthemiddleofmyback,thebridgeofmynosestings.“Ofwhat?”
“WhatifImakethewrongchoice?WhatifIputitallonthelineanditblowsupinmyface?WhatifsherealizesI’mnotworthitandleavesme?I…I’mparalyzedbyallthewhat-ifs.Thisisn’tjustlikewhatifIletapuckpast?ThenIjustlosethegame.Lifegoeson.Butthis?Ihaveaknackforfuckingpeople’slivesupwholovemeandwhoIloveback.It’smyspecialty.”
“That’snottrue.You’relookingatitwrong.Iloveyouandyou’vedonenothingbutmakemylifebetter.”
Astranglednoiselodgesinmythroat,andHarvey’shandmovesup,squeezingmyshoulder.Inod,stillhangingmyhead.
“Idon’tknowyourparentsfromAdam,Jasper.ButI’vegottasayIdon’twantto.Anyonewhocouldleaveyoubehind?Theydon’tloveyouthewayyoudeserve.AndIknowSloanewouldagreewiththat.Thatgirlhasneverleftyoubehind,notforamoment.Nomatterhowunlovableyou’vebeen,she’slovedyouanyway.She’slovedyouwhenyoudidn’tloveherbackanddidn’taskforshit.Ithinkallshe’saskingforisforyoutoloveherbacknow.Andyou’retellingmeyoualreadydobutaretoochickenshittotellher.She’swaitedlongenough,don’tyouthink?”
“WhatamIsupposedtodothough?Beghertochoosemeinsteadofherfamily?Iknowwhatit’sliketoloseyourfamily.Evenifthey’reassholes,youstillwantthemaroundinsomeway.Idon’twanttobetheonewhomakesthatdecisionforher.”
“Youdon’tneedtomakeasingledecisionforher—onlyforyourself.Thatgirlhasbeenchoosingyouforyears.She’sjustsickofwaitingaroundforyoutochooseherback.Can’tsaythatIblameher.You’reslowasmolassestofigurethingsout.Andnowshe’sbrokenupwithyou.AnyoneevertoldyouSloaneisthebestyou’lleverget?”
“Shedidn’tbreakupwithme.Andyes,Willatoldmethattoday.You’reallverythoughtful.Thankyouforthat.”
“Areyoutwotalking?”
Iturnandglareathim,butdeepdown,myheartraces.Didshebreakupwithme?Ireallyamanidiot.
“Imean,there’sreallyonlyonequestion,Jasper.”Hesipshiscoffeeandleavesmehanging.Oldmanhastogethiskickssomehow.
Dick.
“What’sthequestion?”
Heshrugslikeit’sthemostobviousthingintheworld.“Wouldyoumakethatgamble?”
“Overandoveragain.”
Ilovehockey,butit’snotevenclosetohowIloveSloane.TwoweeksoffofhockeycomparedtoafewdayswithoutSloaneprovedtwothingstome:IcanlivewithouthockeybutIcan’tlivewithoutSloane.
Heswatsthebackofmyheadlovingly.Ifthat’sevenathing.“Thentellher,youidiot.”
Arapidknockatthedoordrawsbothourattention.Harveyslapsmyknee.“I’llgetthat.Yousithereandstewinyourownstupiditywhileyoumusterupaplantomakethisright.”
Ichuckle.OnlyHarveycoulddeliveranemotionalpeptalkandthenmockmeopenlytomakemelaugh.
Thehingesonthedoorcreak,andIhearavoiceIwasnotexpecting.“Harvey.”
“Cordelia?”
I’mupandwalkingtowardthefrontdoor,roundingthecornerjustintimetoseeSloane’smomliftingaLouisVuittonsuitcaseasshesays,“Anychanceyouhaveaspareroom?”ShelooksdownathersuitcaseandthenbackupatHarvey.Hersmileiswatery.“Icouldreallyuseasafespottogetmybearings.”
“Ofcourse.I—”
“Oh,”shebreatheswhenshecatchessightofme.“You’rehere.”
Igiveheranod,suddenlywishingIhadmycapontohidebehind.“Mrs.Winthrop.”
Shestaresatmeforlongerthaniscomfortable,andhereyesfillwithtears.“Don’tlethimscareyouoff,Jasper.”Shepinsmewithherlightblueeyes,sosimilartoherdaughter’s.“Don’tlethimcontrolyoutoo.He’samaster.Hegetshisclawsintoyouandsuddenlyyouwakeupinyourfiftieswithnothingbutaheapingpileofregret.ThebestthingIcandoforheratthispointisleadbyexample.Idon’twantthatlifeforSloane.Idon’twanthimforSloane.She’sgoingtoneedyoutobethereforherwhenshebreaksfreeofthem.”
“Themwho?”Iask,alarmcoursingthroughmeasIputtogetherwhatshe’ssaying.Whatshe’sdone.
IglancebetweenHarveyandCordelia.Harvey’seyesarelatchedontohislatewife’slittlesisterwithanintensityI’veneverseenbefore.
“Sterling.Robert.Menlikethemdon’ttakewelltobeingslighted.Theymaneuver.Theyplan.Thisdinnerwon’tjustbeabirthdaycelebration.It’llbeacoup,andIcan’tbethereforit.Can’twatchhercontinuetogetplayedbythem.”
Myheartthrumsinmychest,hardandheavy.“Shewon’tbe.”
Hermomsighsandlooksatmesadly.“Maybenot,butitwon’tstopthemfromtrying.”
Igrabmykeysfromthefronttableandleavethembothwithanod.
“Jasper!”CordeliacallsouttomerightasIgettomydriver’ssidedoor.“TheFrontierSteakhouse.”
Ialmostlaugh.
Theplacewhereitallstarted.Ihatethatfuckingrestaurant,yetIcan’tgettherefastenough.
She’sneverleftmebehind,andI’mnotleavingherbehindeither.
TheonlythoughtinmyheadasImakethehour-longdrivebackintothecityisthatSloaneneedsme.Sheneedsmetojustbetherewithher.
AndIloveher.37Sloane
Mom:I’msorryIcan’tbethere.
Sloane:Ireallydon’tblameyou.Itwon’tbealongmeal.Icantellyouthatmuch.
Mom:Youinspireme,Sloane.
Sloane:Inspireyou?
Mom:Tocarelesswhatanyonethinks.Toputmyselffirst.Tobestronger.
Sloane:Idon’tfeelstrong.
Mom:Oh,mydarling.Butyouare.AndI’llneverregretsendingyouthattext,becausethatdayyoulearnedjusthowstrongyoucanbe.
FromwhereI’mstanding,IhavetheperfectviewofDadandSterlingsittingbesideeachotheratatablebythewindow.They’vegottheirheadstogetherandsmilesontheirfaces,liketwolittleboyswhisperinginclass.
Littleboys
That’spreciselywhattheyare.Afterthelastcouplemonthsspentinthepresenceofrealmen,I’mseeingthedifferenceclearerthanever.Ithasnothingtodowithmoneyoreducationoraperson’spublicreputation.Ithaseverythingtodowithwhat’sinside.
Soul.Heart.Actionsspeakinglouderthanwords.
Thesetwoassholescansaywhateverthehelltheywant.I’mnotfallingforitanymore.Iseerightthroughit.
Fortoolong,Iwasasoft,demurelittledove.Andthentheyburnedme.Scorchedme.
TurnsoutI’madragonandI’mfedthefuckupwithboysandtheirbullshit
MyshouldersrollbackasIleanagainsttheoutsidewallofCartieracrossthestreetfromTheFrontier.
I’malittlehungovertoday.WinterandIhititoff.TurnsoutwehavemoreincommonthanIeverimagined.She’sfunandtotallydowntodrinktoomuchcheapbeerandlieonthefloorwithme.
IhavehertothankforthepowersuitI’mwearingandalsofortherideintothecity.IalsohavehertolookforwardtoasaneighborinChestnutSpringsbecauseonceI’mdonewiththisstupidfuckingdinner,I’mheadingstraightbacktothatlittlehouse.
WhereIbelong.WhereIfeellikemyself.I’llfiguretherestoutasIgo—formyself.
Andthere’ssomethingfreeingabouthavingnorules.Afteralifetimeofhavingapathandplanlaidoutbeforeme,I’mgoingtodo…whateverthehellIwant.
Irollmyshouldersonemoretime,checkbothwaysacrossthefourlanesoftraffic,andstepontothestreet.
Evenjaywalkingfeelsgood.
Igivethehostaflatsmile,holdingonehandup.“No,thanks.IknowwhereI’mgoing.”Withoutgivinghimachancetoanswer,Imarchpast,righttowardthetablebythewindowwheretwoofthemenIleastwanttoseeareseated.
IthoughtI’dbenervous,butIjustfeel…exhilarated.
“Dad,Sterling.”
Theirheadssnapupasthoughthey’resurprisedtoseeme.Usually,astaffmemberwouldguidemehere,butthat’sexactlywhatIdidn’twant.
“Sloaney…”Sterlingeyesme,headtotoe.“Youlookverysevereinthatoutfit.”
Ialmostlaugh.Aftermonthsofmeignoringhim,that’swhathehastosay.
“Thankyou.”Ishoothimasarcasticsmilebeforemovingtothechairbesidethewindow,acrossfrommydad.AsfarawayfromSterlingaspossible.
Dad’seyessweepoverme,assessingme,andIwonderwhathesees.IwonderifhecantellI’veliftedtheveilandseehimmoreclearlythanever.
Idon’thatehim.Iamindifferenttowardhim.
Heusedtotellmehewasn’tangry,justdisappointedwithme.Andthat’showIfeelabouthimnow.
Deeplydisappointed.BecauseI’llalwayslovehim.He’salwaysbeensomeoneI’velookedupto,andtofindoutthatwasallfabricated,ornottruetohischaracter,isdisappointing.Knowingthatanothermaninmylifedidn’tlovemequiteenoughtoovercomehisownshitstings.
Butitstingslesswithmyhairpulledback,nailspaintedbloodred,andwearingablackpantsuitwithshinytuxedolapels.
Winterwasright.Ifeelreadytokickassandtakenames.
“Happybirthday,Sloane,”Robertsays,liftingaglassofwinewithoutofferingmeone.
Ireachoverandpourmyselfabigone.Anotherfauxpasataplacelikethisisnotwaitingfortheserver—ortoover-pourthewayIjustdid.
ButI’mfuckingdonewaitingaroundforthesementogettheirshittogether,andIdeserveajugofwineforevenbeinghere.
“Thanks,Dad,”IfinallyreplyafterleavingthembothhangingwiththeirglassesintheairwhileIpoured.Clearly,neitherofthemisgentlemanlyenoughtooffer.
Glassesclinkandwedrink.Ikeepmyeyeslaser-focusedonmydadandrollmylipstogetherprimly,tastingthewine.It’sexpensive,butI’drathercrushaBuddyzBest.
“When’sMomcoming?”Iglancearoundtherestaurant,reallyputtingonashowofit,butIknowsheisn’tcoming.Shetoldmesheisn’t.MomalsotoldmeshefoundthatvideoonDad’sphoneandsentittomeanonymouslyonmyweddingday.Iassumeitwasblackmailfodder.
ItwouldseemsheandIcametooursensesrightaroundthesametime.ItwouldseemRobertWinthrophasfinallypushedusbothtoofar.
“She’salittleundertheweathertoday.It’sjustthethreeofustonight.”
“Actually…”avoiceIneverexpectedtohearchimesin.Myheartlurchesinmychest,composureslippingforjustasecond.ItfeelslikeI’mmovinginslowmotionasIturntoseeJasperstandingattheendofthetable,lookingheart-stoppinginaperfectlytailoredsuit,eyesonme,smuggrinonhislips.“It’sgoingtobethefourofus.”Hestepstowardmewithauthority,leansdownandtipsmychinuptohim,eyescapturingminewithalookofferocity.“Sunny,I’msorryI’mlate.”
Late
It’ssuchasimplesentiment.Butitwarmsmefromtheinsideallthesame.
He’shere
AllIcanmanageisafirmnod,onehereturnsbeforepressingabristledkisstomyforeheadandtakingaseatbesideme.
Myrock.Mycomfort.Theboywiththesadeyesandtheheartofgold.
Iturntowardhim.“Youhaveasame.”IglancedownatthedaintyRolexonmywrist.“Rightnow.”
“Wemadeapromiseinthattruck,remember?Ican’tgowithoutyouagain.Nothingismoreimportantthanbeingherewithyou.”Hepalmsmykneeunderthetableandinclineshisheadtowardmyoutfit.“Youarestunning,bytheway.”
Nothingismoreimportantthanbeingherewithyou
Iswallowacoupleoftimes,unabletotearmyeyesfromthemanbeforeme.Thepromise.He’sright.AndIpromisedhimtoo.
“Jasper…”
Hishandsqueezesreassuringly.“Theanswerisyes,Sloane.”
Myheadtilts.“Yes,what?”
“I’lltakethatgamble.Alldaylong.Everydamnday.”
MyeyesstingandIwillawaythewetness.I’mnotgoingtocryhere.IwillnotletmydadandSterlingbeprivytothismoment.
WhenIglanceoveratthetwomen,thefuryisclearontheirfaces.
“Youarenotpartofthisconversation,Gervais.”Mydadglaresathimlikehemightmakehimcower.Butthatpowerhasslippedfrombetweenhisfingers,rightbeforehiseyes.
Jasperleansbackinhischair,smirks,andsettlesin.“You’rerightaboutsomething,atleast.I’mnotheretocontribute.Iwon’tsayaword.I’mjustheretobewithSloane.”
“You’reoverstepping,”Sterlingwhines,practicallyvibratingwithfury.“Youdon’tbelonghere.”
Jaspersmilesathim,keepinghiscoolandpokingatthemenacrossfromhimintheprocess.
“Enough,”Isnap.“Wastheresomethingyoubothneededtosaytome?BecauseIthinkI’vemademyselfcrystalclear.Itoldyou”—Ipointatmydad—“thatIwouldspeaktoyouwhenIwasready.”IshiftmyfingerovertoSterling.“ButIneverwanttospeaktoyouagain.”
“Sloane,youneedtogetoveryourhurtfeelings.”
IarchabrowatSterling.“Youjustdon’tgetit,doyou?Whatyoudowithyourdickdoesn’thurtmyfeelings.Whatyoudidwithyourdickwasmerelyawake-upcall.Awake-upcallthatIdon’tcareaboutyouevenalittlebit.Iamindifferent.It’sbeeneasytoignoreyoubecauseIdon’tthinkaboutyouatall.”
ThemoreItalk,themoreSterlingmatchesthedeepredcolorofthewineinhisglass.ThemoreJasper’sfingersslidealongtheinsideseamofmywide-legpants,themoremyconfidencebuilds.Justhavinghimhere,nexttome…
It’sallI’veeverwanted.We’resomuchbettertogetherthanweareapart
“That’sonlybecauseyou’vebeenwhoringaroundwiththistrailertrash.”
Jasper’sentirebodygoestautbesideme.MymouthpopsopeninshockatthevenominSterling’swordsandtone.ItmightbethemostpassionateI’veeverseenhimoveranythingotherthanbarrel-agedscotchandhuntingexoticanimals
I’mabouttosayasmuchwhenJasperjerksandSterling’sgaspedsquealreachesmyears.Anexpressionofalarmflashesacrosshisfeaturesrightashisfacetipsbackanddisappearsbackwardinasplashofredwineandtheloudclatterofthechairhittingthefloor.
Sterlingsputtersashestrugglestorighthimself.
“Didyoujust—”
“Kickhisfuckingchairover?”Japerprovides,cuttingoffmydad’squestion.“Yes.Becauseyoumightbeokaywithhimtalkingtoyourdaughterthatway,butIamnot.Musthavelearnedbettermannersinthetrailerpark.”
Mydadatleasthasthegoodsensetolookalittlecowed.
Butme?IdowhatIalwaysdoininappropriatesituations.
IburstoutlaughingasIwatchSterlingonallfours,awkwardlypushinghimselftostanding.Dressshirtstainedwithredwine.Hairallfucked.Andnotinagoodway.
“You’redead,Gervais,”hetriestosoundtoughbuteverythingaboutthemanringssodamnhollow.
Itmakesmelaughharder.
We’vemadeaspectacleandI’vegotthegoddamngiggles.
“Sloane,pullittogether.Peoplearewatching,”mydadsnapsatme.
TearswellinmyeyesandIrubthem,butthelaughterwon’tstopcoming.
Jasperleansdownandwhispersinmyear.“Ifitmakesyoulaugh,I’llkickhisasswhileeveryonewatches.”
Iheartheamusementinhisvoiceandwaveahandacrossmythroat,silentlybeggingJaspertostop.Becausenowhe’sjusteggingmeon.
Becauseheknowsme.
Hegetsme.
“Sterling,”Iwheezeout.“Iwillnevermarryyou.Like…”AgigglehitsmeandIforceitbackdown.Thissentenceisjustsomuchmoreoffensivetodeliverwhilelaughing.ButIcan’tevenmusteranyfuckstogiveaboutthat.“Ever.”
“AndDad…”Ishakemyhead,laughterslowing.“Idon’tevenknow.Thethingsyou’vesaidtomeinthelastfewmonths?”IplaceahandonJasper’s.“ThewayyoutreatthepeopleIlove?I’dliketothinkIcanfinditinmyselftoforgiveyou,butI’llhavetodoalittlesoul-searchingtodecideifthat’strueorifthat’sjustmestillbeingobedient.Alittlegirlissupposedtoloveherdad,buthe’ssupposedtoloveherback.Protectheratallcosts.Andiftheselastmonthshavetaughtmeanything,it’sthatyoudon’tlovemethewayI’velovedyou.Ideservebetter.”
IpeekoveratJaspernow,findinghiseyesonmeliketheyoftenare.Buttodaytheyaren’tsad.They’reglowingwithpride.Theysizzleacrossmyskin.
Ilookbackatthetwomenacrossfromme.“I’mdonesettlingforlessthanIdeserve.Sterling,fuckoffforever.Dad,figureouthowtodeservearelationshipwithme.Maybeonedaywecantalk.”
ThechairscreechesbackasIstandsuddenly.
IreachforJasper’shand,makinganobviousshowofdoingitinfrontofthem.ThenI’mtugginghimalong,wantingoutofthisgodforsakenrestaurantonceandforall.
AsIbrushagainstSterling’sarmonmywaypast,hegrabsmybicep.“Where’sthering?Iwantitback.”
Icirclemyarmabruptly,tuggingawayfromhimrightasJasperstepsinclose,lookinglikehe’sreadytomurderSterlingfordaringtoputahandonme.
“Ilostit.”Ilaughagainandwonderwhatiswrongwithme.WhyIhavetolaughatthemostinappropriatetimes.RightnowIamtrulyunhinged.
Butit’sJasperwhoreallygetsthelastlaughwhenheleansinagainstmyex’searandsays,“Ifuckedthatringrightoffherfinger.”
IwishIcouldcommissionanartisttopainttheexpressiononSterling’sfacewhenthatblowlands.Itwouldbemoneywellspent.
Jasperguidesmeoutoftherestaurant.Wetaketheexactpathwetookallthosemonthsago.Excepteverythingissodifferentnow.
Soupintheair.
Sounplanned.
So…happy.38Jasper
Roman:Managementandownershipareallonthesamepage.Irelayedeverythingwetalkedabout.IjustwishIcouldbeaflyonthewallwhentheytellthisfuckertotakeahike.
Jasper:Thanks,Coach.
Roman:I’vealwaysgotyourback,Jasper.Nowgogetthegirl.
Ishovethatheavywooddooropen,suckinginthefrostyDecemberair.Itsmellslikesnowandexhaust.Andittasteslikesfreedom.
“Nevertakemetothatfuckingrestaurantagain,”Isay,rightasIturntotugSloaneintome.Herlipsarethesameshadeofredashernails.
She’sgotarealfemmefatalevibegoingon,andIamsohereforit.
Shelaughs,soundinggiddyandlookingallwide-eyed.“Ican’tbelieveIjustsaidallthat.”Onehandlandsonhercheek.“Ican’tbelieveyoutoldhimyoufuckedtheringrightoffmyfinger!”
Ilaughnowtoobecausethatshitwassatisfying.“Didyouseehisface?”
Sloanenods,bitingatherlip,eyestwinklingfromreflectingtheheadlightsofthecarsbuzzingpast.“Youcameforme,”shesays,tippingherchinupandgracingmewiththeprettiestfuckingsmile.
“Ofcourse.ItoldyouIneverwantedtobewithoutyouandImeantit.”
“Iwasn’tsure—”
“I’vebeensickfordays.Icametoourhousebutdidn’tknowwhattosay.I’vetriedtofigureoutagoodreasonforwhyIfrozeinthecartheothernight.AreasonwhyIdidn’tusethewordsIreallywantedtoeventhoughIcouldfeelthemrightthereatthetipofmytongue.Butthereisnoexcuse.”Ibrushatherhair.“I’vebeenhidingforsolong,peekingoutatyoufromunderthebrimofmyhat,thatIgotcomfortablethere.I’msorrythatI’mlateinsomanyways.Notjusttodinnerbuttofiguringmyselfout.Iwas…”
Foramoment,Iglanceawayandswallow.“Iwasscared.Scaredtoneedyouthisbadly.Reallyfuckingscaredtoloseyou.”
Hereyesfluttershutonaheavysigh,andIcupherhead,wantinghereyesbackonme.“Iknow—”
“No,Sunny.Ishouldn’tbescared.You’retheleastscarythinginmylife.You’renotjusttattooedonmyskin.You’rebrandedonmyheart.Wovenintothefiberofmybeing.Themostconstantandreassuringpersoninmylife.WhenIclosemyeyes,Iseeyou.Whenyou’reawayfromme,Idreamaboutyou.WhenIneedsomeonetoleanon,youarealwaysthereforme.God.You’velovedmewhenIhaven’tevenbeenabletolovemyself.”Myhandssqueezehercheeksandtearsseepoutoverthem.Butshe’ssmilingupatmelikeIhungthemoon.
“You’velookedatmelikethisforsodamnlong.AndIdon’tknowwhenIstartedlookingback,onlythatIdid.Forcingmyselftolookawayforsomanyyearshasbeenaspecialkindoftorture.I’vetorturedmyselfforlongenough.I’mdonehiding,donemissingoutonthis.Onus.”
Aquietsobleapsfromherlips,andshepressesherheadintothecenterofmychest.
“Sloane,Iwon’tgowithoutyou.”
“You’veneverbeenwithoutme,Jasper.NotsincethefirstdayIlaideyesonyou.”
Myheartcracksatheradmission,andshepressesincloser.Likesheknowsshefitsthere.Likesheknowsshebelongsthere.FillinginallthecrackswhereIbreak.
Iholdhertightandrestmycheekonthecrownofherhead.
“I’msorryyou’retheonlythingthat’severmademefeelwholeagain.I’msorryI’veneededsomuchfromyou.Sunny,I’msorryI’msodamnlate.Butthankyouforwaiting.”
Herhandslidesintomysuitjacketandshepalmstheballerinatattooonmyribs.“Youshoweduprightontime.”Shepeeksupatme.“Haveyoubeenstayinginoneoftheemptyhouses?”
Mylipstwitch.“Maybe.”
“Isthereabed?”
Ishrug.“Anairmattress.”
“Jasper!”Shegroansmyname,buthervoiceisamusedtoo.
“What?Idon’tlikebeingawayfromyou.Infact,Iwouldhavebeenearlier.ButIhadtopickupyourbirthdaypresent.”
“Youboughtmeabirthdaypresent?”Hereyeslight.
“OfcourseIbroughtyouabirthdaypresent.Whatkindofassholeshowsuptohisgirlfriend’sbirthdaydinnerwithoutagift?”
Shequirksaneyebrowatmeandwebothsmile.“Girlfriend?”
“Ofcourse.”
Thenfromwithinmypocket,IpressthebuttononthekeyfobandtheSUVbehindmeblinkstolifewithasoftbeepingnoise.
Sloane’sgazehitsthewhiteVolvoandthenslicesbacktome.“Youboughtmeacar?”
“SafestoneIcouldfind.They’vedonethecrashtestsand—”
“Jasper,”shegigglesmyname.“Itrustyou.I’lltakeyourwordforit.I…Iloveit.”
“Iknowyoumostlywalkeverywhereinthecity.”Iclearmythroat,feelingsuddenlybashful.“ButIwantyoutohavesomethingsafeforyourcommute.”
“Mycommute,huh?”She’sgrinningnow.It’sinfectious.
“Yeah.FromourhouseinChestnutSprings.You’llneedasafecartogetintothecityforwork.Andyouneedyourfreedomtogowhereveryouwant.Dowhateveryouwant.”
Atthat,hereyesfill.Sheblinks,andalonetearrollsdownoverhercheek
“Youjustgetme,youknowthat?”Herheadwagsgently.“Youalwayshave.”
Everythingaches—myheart,mythroat,mychest—soIdotheonlythingthatIcanthinkoftomakeithurtless.“Iloveyou,SloaneWinthrop.Ialwayshave.IloveyousodamnhardIdon’tevenknowwhattodowithit.You’remyperson.AndIthinkI’myourstoo.”
“Youhavealwaysbeenmyperson,”shechokesout.“Iloveyousomuch.”
Idon’tpause.Idon’tthinktwice.ItiltherheadupandIkissher.
Inthemiddleofabusystreetforthewholedamnworldtoseewhilesnowfallsaroundus.Intheexactspotshewalkedawayfrommeoncebefore.
Butthistime,it’sus.
Together.39Sloane
Sloane:Getyourassestotherink!
Willa:I’mnotplayinghockey.
Summer:Why?
Willa:It’snotsafe.Hardice.Sharpblades.Abunchofmentryingtoprovethattheyaren’tpasttheirprimes.Fuckthatnoise.I’mgoingtositonmyassandcheerforLuke.
Winter:Ithinkshowjumpingisprobablymoredangerous.Medicallyspeaking.
Sloane:Winter,areyoucoming?
Winter:Can’t.I’msick.
Willa:Yeah.Metoo.I’msick.*coughcough*
Summer:Well,you’reallboring.I’monteamSloane!MerryChristmas!Let’sfuckinggoooo!
IthoughtmybestChristmasescamewhenIwaschild.Whenthemagicwasstillaliveandthrumming.ButsomehowthisChristmastakesthecake.Ittakesallthecake.Andallthemagicisthrumming.
IwokeupinJasper’sarms.Inourperfect,cozylittlehouse.Thehomewe’veslowlymadetogether.Wemadelovewhilesnowfelloutsidethewindowbeforeweevengotoutofbed.AndthenwehoppedintooneofourverysafeSUVsandheadedstraightforWishingWellRanch.
MymomandHarveymetusatthedoorwithwelcominghugsandkissesastheyusheredusintothebustlingranchhouse.Everyonewasthere.
We’veallbeentogetheralldaylong,andmyhearthasneverfeltfuller.EverytimeIgettoofar,Jasperreachesforme.Ibarelygoforfiveminutesatatimewithoutfeelinghimtouchmeinsomeway.Withouthimpressingakisstomyhairforeveryonetosee.
It’s…Well,it’smagical.
Almostasmagicalasthisnewtradition.ThefirstofmanyChristmastraditionsIplantomakewithJasper.
Christmasshinny.
“Ithoughtskatingwassupposedtobeeasy?Youassholesallmakeitlooksoeasy!”RhettcomplainsasheclompsaroundlikeBambiontheice,alllonglegsandawkwardmotions.
“Badword,UncleRhett!”Luke,hissix-year-oldnephew,callswhileskatingspeedycirclesaroundhisuncle.
Summerlaughsbeforegettingupoffthelogwhereshe’sbeensittingwithWilla.“Icanhelpyou,babe!”shecallsassheskateseffortlesslyovertoRhett.
Herollshiseyes.“Seriously?You’regoodatthistoo?”
Summerjustshrugs,actingallsaucyasshewinksathim.“I’mgoodateverything.”
IlaughfromwhereI’mleaningagainstJasper’snet,takingitallin.Soakingitallup.
“It’sjustproofthatyou’reoverachieving!”Jasper’svoicedrawsmyheaduptothepaththatleadsdowntotheice.Cadelaughs,eachofthempullingaplasticsledloadedwithsnacksandthermosesfilledwithhotdrinks.Harveyandmymomcomeafterthem,carryingblanketsandevenacoupleoflawnchairs.
“You’reoverachievingtoo,Gervais!”RhettshoutsasSummertakeshishands,skatingbackwardsinanattempttoteachhimhowtoskate.
Jaspershrugs,eyesfindingminealmostinstantly.“Yeah,thedifferenceisIknowit.”
IshakemyheadathimbecauseIdon’tfeellikehe’soverachievingatall.Ifeellikeeverythingisjustright.
Weplaytheworld’smostridiculoushockeygame.Summer,mymom,Luke,andmeagainsteveryoneelse.Peoplesubinandoutwilly-nilly.CadeconstantlyleavesthegametocheckonWillaandrefillherhotchocolate.MymomandHarveyargueoverwhethersheneedstowearahelmet.Shesaysno;hesaysyes.Rhettfallsonhisassmultipletimes.Everyonemakesfunofhim.Jasperstopseverysingleshotonnetandlaughsateverypersonwhotriestomakeaplayagainsthim.
ExceptLuke.Lukeistheonlyonewhoscoresanygoals,andJaspermakesthebiggest,goofiestshowoftryingtostophimeverytime.WatchinghimwithLukeisadorable.Itmakesmyovarieshurt.
I’mnotsureI’veeverseenhimsmilesomuch.
I’mnotsureI’veeverbeenmoreattractedtohimthanIamatthismoment.
I’mnotsureI’veeverlovedhimmorethanIdorightnowbecause,impossibleasitseems,everydaywespendtogetherIjustkeeplovinghimharder.
“Comingforyou,Gervais,”IcallasSummerpassesmethepuck.
“Bringit,honey.Showmewhatyougot.”
Butinsteadoftryingtoscore,Istopinfrontofhim,sprayingicealloverhispads.We’regrinningateachotherlikecrazypeopleasIpulloffthebeautifullypaintedhelmetonhishead,hookingmyfingersthroughthemetalbarsasitdanglesatmyside.
“Ineedakissfirst,”Isay,tryingtokeepmyexpressionneutral.
BecauseIknowhe’llneverturnmedown.I’velearnedthatwhereJasperGervaisisconcerned,he’lldoabsolutelyanythingtokeepmehappy.
IncludingkissingmeinthemiddleofafamilyhockeygamejustbecauseIasked.
SoI’mnotsurprisedwhenhisglovehandcomestothesideofmyfaceandhismouthdropsontominewithoutasinglemomentofhesitation.I’mnotsurprisedwhenIheareveryonehootingandholleringaswekissonthatlittlepieceoficeinthemiddleoftheranch.I’mnotsurprisedwhenhetakesitastepfurtherandslideshistongueintomymouth.
ButI’mstillacompetitor.AndIhatetolose.SoIextendmystickandnudgethepuckpastJasper’sfeetwhilehestandstherekissingmesenselesslikeIaskedhimto.
IhearLukecheer.“Ahhhh!Thatwassogross.ButAuntySloanescores!Wewin!”
Jasperchucklesagainstmylipswithagentleshakeofhishead.“Nicegoal,Sunny.”
“Thankyou,Jas.”Idoalittlecurtsy.“Whoknewyouweresoeasilydistracted?”
Ourgazeslock,hisirisesbouncingbetweenmine.“You’vebeendistractingmeforyears.Thisisnothingnew.”Butthenhisvoicedropslowandanticipationhumsthroughmycorewhenhemurmurs,“Butyou’vegotmyattentionnow.”
Mybrowpinches,andItrynottoblushasIsmileupathim.He’seventalleronhisskates,toweringaboveme.Frost-touchedcheeks,sparklingmidnighteyes,caramelhairfloppeddownoverhisforehead,lookingsofuckinghandsomeithurts.“Ohyeah?”
Hismouthdropstomyear.“Yes.ReallyfeelingthespiritofgivingthisChristmas.AndI’vejustdecidedI’mgoingtobegivingittoyouallnight.Actually,maybeallafternoon…”Hisheadsnapsup,andhepullsmeintohisbodyashecallsouttowardthesidewhereeveryoneissitting,“Game’sover!SloaneandSummer’steamwins.We’reheadingout.”
Ibarkoutalaugh,buthewinksandreachesforhishelmet,guidingmeofftheice.
“Wherearewegoing?”
“Home,Sunny.We’regoinghome.”40Sloane
Violet:Drink?
Sloane:No.
Violet:Youneedone.
Sloane:I’mtoonervoustodrink.
Violet:Yeah.Youlookpale.Needalittlecolorinyourcheeks.
Sloane:Noonecaresaboutthecolorinmycheekstonight,Vi.
Violet:You’lllookbetteronthenewsthisway.
Sloane:What?
Violet:TheyhaveBuddyzBest!
I’msonervousIfeellikeIcouldpuke.I’vegotmyelbowsproppedonmykneesandmyfingerstappingtogetherinananxiousflutter.
“Girl,yougivemeanxietyjustlookingatyou.”Harvey’swarmhandlandsonmyback.
“I’veneverbeensonervousinmylife.”
“Never?”Hisbrowquirks.
Isuckmylipsinintomymouthandshakemyheadquickly.“Never.”
“Imean,iftail-babiescan’tmakeyounervous,thenI’dhavethoughtaStanleyCupgamewouldbeapieceofcake.”
“Harvey,goodlord.”Idropmyheadintomyhandsonalaugh.“Isthetail-babythingevergoingtostopbeingfunnytoyou?”
Heshrugsandgrinsdownattheice.“Probablynot.”
Iwanttopretendthejokeisn’tfunny,butthetruthisI’msosickwithnervesrightnowIcouldhurlallovermymaroonGrizzliesjerseywithGervaisemblazonedacrosstheback.
It’sthesameoneIboughtallthosemonthsago.ItfeelsmonumentalsomehowLucky.
Andconsideringit’salmostthefinalperiodofplayingamesixoftheStanleyCupFinalstonight,theGrizzliesaregoingtoneedallthelucktheycanget.It’stheirlastchancetoclosetheseriesoutandwinitallonhomeice.
Theirseasonhasbeennothingshortofmiraculous.TheywentonahotstreakjustbeforeChristmasandstuckwithit.Thosepointscatapultedthemfarenoughintothestandingsthattheymadetheplayoffs.
Barely.Butmakingitismakingit.
They’vefoughtlongandhard.Iknowthey’retired.Jasperissoreandreadyforabreak.
It’sbeenalong,tryingyear,butit’salsobeenthebestyear.
Theplayoffs.
AsecondOlympicgoldmedalinFebruary.
Andus.
Us.God,thatstillsoundssogoodtome.The“us”partofourlifeissodamngood.Sodamneasy.Itfeelssodamnright.
Somethingaboutadmittingitoutloud,aboutreallyacceptingit,hasliftedaweightfromJasper.He’sstillquietandintrospectivebutnowhesmiles.
Underthecoverofdark,wecrawloutontotheroofofourlittlehouseinChestnutSpringsandtalkaboutlife.Fears.Plans.Babies.Wetalkabouteverythingbecausewealwayshave.
“Whatyousmilingabout,Sloane?”Harveynudgesme,obviouslywatchingmewhileIzoneoutandstareatthegrizzlybearlogopaintedatcenterice.
“I’mjust…”Ishrug,regardingthebuzzingarena.“Happy.Eveniftheylosetonight.Everythingfeels…”
“You’rebothsettled.Figuredoutwhatcountsinlife.It’sthepeople.Notthethings.Nottheacclaim.Thepeople.”
“Yeah.Speakingofpeople.Mymomstilldrivingyouinsane?”She’sbeenlivingatthehouseforsixmonthsnow,andsheandHarveybickerlikeanoldmarriedcouple.Ireallycan’tmakeheadsortailsofit.
I’mnotsureIwantto.
“Thatwoman,”hemutters.“It’slikeafteryearsofkeepingheropinionstoherself,she’sjustblurtingthemalloutleft,right,andcenter.It’sanopinionsurplussaleinthathouse.Buyone,getten.”
Isnortalaughbeforetherowofpeopleheadingourwaycatchesmyattention.Beau,homesafebutstillwalkinggingerly,leadsthecharge.He’sfollowedbyRhettandSummerandVioletwhomadethetripbackjusttotakeinthisgame.
AfewseatsdownCadehashisnewbabygirl,Emma,strappedtohischestinacarrier.He’sallproudpapa,eyesmoreonthatlittlebundlethanonthegame.Itdoesweirdthingstomyovarieswatchinghim.
Willaisherusualplayfulself,sittingbesideLuketryingtoshowhimhowtotosspopcornupintheairandcatchitwithhismouth.
Itjustkeepshittingthembothintheface.
Nomatterwhat,seeingeveryoneheretocheerJasperonwarmsmyheart.Heneedsthis.Deservesthis.
We’renotupinthebox.We’vetakenoveralmostanentirerowofthestadiumbehindhomenet.FilleditwithEatons.Filleditwithfamily.
Maybenotthefamilyhewasbornintobuttheonethatwantedhimthemost.Theonethatwilldoanythingforhim.
AbuzzersoundsasVioletshovesabeeroutinfrontofmeandtakesherseat.“Here.Drinkit.”
“Ican’t—”
Sheshimmiestheplasticcup,makingitdangerouslyclosetospillingover.“Youwill.It’sBuddyzBest.Youlovethisshit.”
Ismirkdownatthegoldenlager.It’struethatIlovethisbeer.Butnotbecauseittastesgood.It’sbecauseIrememberdrinkingitthenightJasperbrokemeoutofthatfarceofawedding.IrememberdrinkingapitcherofitwhileJasperleanedovermybackandtaughtmehowtoplaypool.
Thedogonthelabelmakesmesmile,andthememoriesitdrumsupmakeittastefuckingdelicious.
Itakeadeepswig,andmynervessettleasIwatchmymanskateontotheicefromthebench.Heglancesupinourdirection,andBeauwavesthegiantposterboardsignheandRhettmadeinhisdirection.
Iwatchedthemmakeit.Likethechildrentheyare,theygiggledwhilesprinklingsparklesoverthegluetheyusedtospelloutthewords.
Itreads:JasperGervaisismy#1stud!
Jaspertugshishelmeton,probablyrollinghiseyesfrombehindthecage.
Rhettyells,“Marryme,Jasper!”rightasSummerelbowshimintheribs.Itwouldn’tbeanEatonfamilyoutingwithoutsometypeofinsaneshenanigansfromtheboys.
Butoncethetimerstarts,everyonesettlesintoatensesilence.Ishouldwatchthegame,butIspendhugestretchesoftimestaringatJasperinthenet.
Hisincrediblefocus.Thewayhecarrieshisbody.Thespeedofhisreflexes.He’snotjustgoodathockey,he’sagenerationaltalent.Hegivesmechills.
AndifI’mbeingtotallyhonest,itrilesmethehellupthathe’ssosuperior.I’msoattractedtothatpartofhim.Hispassionandtirelesscommitmenttobeingsogoodathissport.
Iadmirethatabouthim.Weconnectonthatlevel.Whenweneedtotrain,therearenohardfeelingsorwhiningabouttimespentapart.Webothpursueourpassions,andwe’rebothbetteratwhatwedoforhavingtheother’ssupport.
ThecrowdgetsloudastheopposingteamburnsdowntheicetowardJasper’snet.Hesquaresofftofacetheattackers.Justbystandinginthenet,heblockssomanyoftheiropportunitiestoscorebecauseofhisheightadvantage.
Number29passes,andNumber17windsuptakingahard,fastshot.
Notfastenoughthough.Jasper’sglovedhandmovesoutinablurandpocketsthepuck,makingitlookeasy.I’mpantingwhenhehandsitbacktothereferee.
Onehandonmychest,ItakeanothersipofmybeerandrealizethatI’venervouslydrainedtheentirething.
Thepuckdropsandtheclockkeepswindingdown.They’retiedatoneapiece.Jasperhasplayedhisheartouttonight.
Iwantthissobadlyforhim.Thebigwin.Thecrowningachievement.God,mybodyacheswithhowbadlyIwantthisforhim.
Thirtysecondsremainandthecrowdgrowsquiet.Overtimeisn’talossbutisn’tawineither.Itmeansmoretime.Morechances.Moreroomfortiredmistakes.
Icanfeeltheanticipation.Theentirearenaisthickwithit.Youcouldcutitwithaknife.Eachsecondislikeadrumbeatthatreverberatesthroughthestands.
TheGatorstakeashotandJaspercovers,butnotlongenoughforthemtoblowthewhistle.
Andthen…ithappens.
DamonHartfliesdowntheice,glancingoverhisshoulderwithasmirkandalittlewaveathisgoalie.
Andthere’stheperfectgap.
Jasperdropsthepuckontheiceandsendsitsailingstraightthroughthatgap.Rightontothetapeofhisteammate’sstick.
Isweareverysinglepersoncollectivelysucksinadeepbreathofcoldair.
Thesecondswinddown.
Buttherearenodefenders.TheyletDamonskaterightpastthem.
Hetapsthepuckbackandforth,dekeingleftandright.
Hefakesashot.
Theirgoaltenderfallsforitanddropstomakethesave.
Damontakesthetopcorner,thehardrubberhittingthebackofthenettingwithawhooshthat’sheardthroughtheentirebuilding.
Thebuzzersoundsandthearenaexplodes.
Music.Lights.Screaming.Confetti.Everysinglepersonerupts.
ButIsitstill,watchingJasperjumpforjoy,stickandglovesflying,helmettossed,heskatestowardhisteammateswiththebiggest,mostheartrendinggrinonhisfaceastheypileontohimfortheassistandDamonforthewinninggoal.
Iwanttorememberthismoment,thisfeeling,asclearlyasIrememberthefirstdayIsawhim.Painfullyhandsomewithsadeyes.
Today,whenheturnsandsearchesformeinthestands,he’sdifferent.
He’spainfullyhandsomewithhappyeyes.
SohappythatIwanttoseethemupclose.Thecolors.Thewaytheyswirltogether.Thefinelinesbesidethem.IwanttofeelhisstubbleonmycheeksandhisheartbeatagainstmyforeheadwhenIdropmyfaceagainsthischest.
Ijogthroughthecrowd,downthosestairstothegateattheendoftherink,andhe’sthere.
Waitingforme.
Likehealwayshasbeen.
Ilethimletpullmeontotheice,straightupintohisarms.
“Youfuckingdidit,baby!”Iyellathimwithabsolutelynochill.Myhandsareinhissweatyhair,mylegsaroundhiswaist,myeyesonhis.
Rightwheretheyalwayshavebeen.
“Wefuckingdidit.”Hishandssqueezemyass,andhewhispersallgravellyagainstmyear,“MyyearsoftrainingandyourStanleyCupMaker.ThePerfectcombo.”
Ilaughlikeacrazypersonandkisshisneck.Therearecamerasandmediaeverywhere.Teammatesandfamily.It’smayhem.ButallIseeishim.Thismoment.Agoodmanwholifedealtsuchanunfairhand,finallygettingawin.Thewin.
“Iloveyou,JasperGervais.”Ishakemyhead,tearsleakingdownmyfaceasImarvelatthemanbeforeme.“Iloveyousodamnmuch.”
“Iloveyoutoo,SloaneWinthrop,”hesaysasheglancesovermyshoulder,backtowardtheentrance.“ButdoyouknowwhatIdon’tlike?”
Myheartracesandconfusionbloomsbehindmybrows.Howcouldanyonenotlikesomethingaboutthismoment?Thismomentis…everything.
Ibarelynoticewhenhereachesbehindme.
IbarelynoticeBeau’spresence,orthebigshit-eatinggrinonhisface.
Ibarelynoticebecauseinallhisgoaltendinggear,inthemiddleofhisStanleyCupwinningcelebration,mychildhoodcrushisdroppingtoonekneerightinfrontofme.
Withalittlevelvetboxinhishand.
“DoyouknowwhatIdon’tlike?”
Hiseyesstaringupatminearesoclear,sobright,sounapologeticallyjoyful.I’mstillconfused,stillhavingahardtimecatchingupwithwhat’shappeningrightnow,eventhoughit’ssodamnobvious.
“What?”Iwhisper,andIwouldn’tthinkhecouldhearme,buthemust.
Becauseherespondswith,“Yourlastname,Sunny.Ireallydon’tlikeyourlastname.”
Andwiththat,heflipsthelittleboxopentoshowmearing.AringIlike.AringItoldhimaboutwhilechuggingtrashybeerinthepassengerseatofhisSUVwhilewearingaweddingringfromanotherman.
It’sapurple,ovalcutsapphire,sethorizontallyintoyellowgold.Surroundedonalledges.It’squirky.It’sunique.It’soneofakind.
It’sexacttheringIdescribedtohimallthosemonthsago.
“SloaneGervaissoundsright,don’tyouthink?”Hisheadquirks,damphairbrushingoverhisforehead.Helookssoboyish,allbashfulandnervous.
Iglancearoundnow,realizingthismomentissomuchmorethanjustus.It’stheculminationofhislife’swork.“Jasper!Youshouldbecelebratingrightnow!”Iblurt.
“Sunny,Iwill.”Helaughs,shakinghisheadatmelikeI’mamusingtohim.“ButIwanttocelebratewithmyfiancée.Please,Sloane,letmemarryyou.Letmemakeyouhappy.Idon’twannabelatewiththistoo.”
“Jas.”Ilaugh,reachingforwardandslidingmyfingerintothering,hearingaroarofcheersbehindus.“Youarenotlate!Ididn’tseethiscomingatall.”
ThestoneglittersunderthebrightlightsasIflexandwigglemyfinger.
“Yeah?”heasks,voiceallwarmanddeep.
Ipeekbackathim,kindofsadtolookawayfromtheringnow,andnod.
Helaughsandscoopsmeupintohisarmsashereachesfullheightagain,makingmesqueal.“’Boutfuckin’timethough,eh?Youdeservedmebeingearlyforsomethingafteralltheseyears.”
Myfingerstraildownoverhisrosycheeks.“Iloveyou,Jas.”
“Sunny,tellmethat’sayes.”
“It’salwaysbeenayes,Jasper.”
Hewhoopsandtwirlsmebeforehekissesmestupid.
Andjustlikethat,theboywiththelankylimbs,thecaramelhair,andthesaddesteyesI’veeverseenismine.
Forever.EpilogueJasper
Jasper:Meetmeonthedriveway.
Sloane:Yes,sir.
Jasper:PocketthatsentenceforlaterwhenIstripyoudownandmakeyoucrawl.
Sloane:YES,SIR.
“Areyounervous?”HarveyeyesmespeculativelyasIwaitforSloanetocomeoutofthehouse.
Thesunisshiningandthesnowismelting.It’soneofthoseperfectChinookdaysinChestnutSprings,warmenoughtomakeyouwanttowearaT-shirtbecausetheheatfeelssodamngoodafteralongwinter.
It’sourweddingdaybutwearen’tgoingtraditional.Wespentlastnighttogetherontherooftalking.Theceremonyisinthefield,andthereceptionisinthehouse.
Beforewegetmarried,there’ssomethingIwanttoshowher.SoIguessI’mgoingtoseeherinherweddingdresstoo.
“No.Areyou?”
Hescoffs.“WhywouldIbenervous?”
“Idon’tknow.You’regettingold.Maybeyou’reworriedabouttrippingandfallingwhileyouwalkSloanedowntheaisle.”
Tonoone’ssurprise,Robertrefusedtocome,soHarveysteppedupforSloane.Sosteadyandconstantinhissupport.Hereallyisoneofthebest.
“I’manexceptionalphysicalspecimen,son.Notrippingforthisoldfellayet.”
It’smyturntolaughnow.“Pleasetellmelessaboutyourphysicalcapabilities.”
“It’shereditary.Imean,lookatyou.”Hegesturesatmyweddingattire—browncorduroyblazer,bolotie,haironlylightlystyled,andbootsratherthandressshoes.
“Harvey,I’mnotsosureaboutyourunderstandingofthewordhereditary.”
“Beenraisingcattlemyentirelife.Iknowthemeaning.Iknowthere’snature.Andthatthere’snurture.”
Irollmylipstogetherandstaredownatthegraveldrivewaybeneathmeforabeatbeforeglancingbackupathimashecontinues.“Don’tmuchcareifIhadaroleinmakingyou.IknowinmyheartIhadaroleinmakingyouwhoaretoday.AndI’mdamnproudofyou,Jasper.NotsureI’vetoldyouthatenoughovertheyears.”
“Thanks,Harv.”Myvoicecatchesonhisname.
“I’mnotdone,”heannounces,movinghisweightbetweenhisfeet,likehe’salittleawkwardaboutthisconversationaswell.“I…Well,Iknowyou’vestruggled.Iknowyou’vestruggledwithwhat’sinyourheart.Withfeelinglikeyoubelong.AndI’mjustsodanghappythatyoufoundaplacetobelongwithSloane.ButIalsowantyoutoknowthatyoubelonghere.Attheranchwithus.”
Isniffandwipeatmynose.“Whatthefuck,Harvey.Areyoutryingtomakemecry?Isthispartofyournurture?”
Helaughsbutcoughsroughly,clearingtheemotioninhisthroat.“Yeah.Iguessitis.ButIwantedtogiveyouthis.”
Heyanksawhiteenvelopeoutofhisjacketpocketandhandsitovertome.WhenItakeit,hewavesahandinmydirectionandthenwipeshisnose.“Openit.”
MythroatisthickasIpeelthepaperopenandpullthesinglesheetofpaperout.Ireadit,butthewordsare…
“It’sadeed,”hesays.
“Icanseethat.”
“Toyourownquartersection.Overontheeastside.Nicesunrises.Iknowyoutwoliketositontherooftalkinguntilthesuncomesup.Thoughtyou’dbuildthereeventually.Stayclose.Idon’tknow.Giveyourtail-babieslotsofspacetoroam.”Hewipesathiseyes,clearlytryingtocoverhisemotionwiththemostoverusedjokehehas.“Allmykidsgotaquarter.AndIfeellikearealshmuckfornotgivingyouoneuntilnow.”
“Harvey,thisistoomuch.”
Hewavesahandagainbeforeproppingthembothonhishipsandpeeringoutoverthehorizon.“Nah.GotmorelandthanIknowwhattodowith.Plus,you’remyboy,Jasper.”Hereachesoutandgrabsmyshouldernow.“Iwantyouherealways.”
Istareatthepieceofpaper,feelinglikethelittlebrokenboywhoshoweduponthisranchthatdayallthoseyearsago.Hehadnoideahowmuchlovehe’dhaveoneday.Noideathatthepeoplewhoreallylovedhimwouldneverleavehim.
They’reallrighthere.
AndwhenIlookuptoseeSloanecomingdownthefrontstepsofthebig,sprawlingranchhouse,myheartstuttersinmychestandthetearsinmyeyesclearinstantly.EverythingIseeissoclearwithherinview.
“Seeyououtthere.Loveyou,Jasper,”Harveyfinishes,wrappingmeinanaggressivehug.
“Loveyoutoo,Harvey,”Ichokeout,andthemanjuststaresbackatmewithwateryeyesandabrusquenodofapprovalbeforestridingawayanddoingthesametoSloane.
Shehugshimbackbutkeepshereyesonmeasshewalksacrossthedriveway.Thewishingwellisonherleft,thehouseisbehindher,andmyringisonherfinger.Shehasonaloosedressthatflowsaroundherdelicateankles.Herhairisdown,allsoftasitframesherface.Balletslippersareonherfeet,andtheexpressiononherfaceisrelaxed.Happy.
Thisisthedayshedeserves.
Thedaywedeserve.
Backwhereitallbegan.
“Youlookperfect,”Imurmurasshedrawsnear.
“Youlookedible.Talkaboutteenagedream.”Hereyesrakeovermeandasmiletouchesherlips.
Iholdtheenvelopeup.“Didyouknowaboutthis?”
Sheliftsashouldernoncommittally.“Alittlebirdiemighthavetoldme.”
Herhandsreachformeassoonasshe’snearenough,andIpockettheenvelopebeforepullingherintome.
Intoourhug.Theonewe’vealwaysdone.Exceptnowherhandreachesforhertattooonmyribseverytime.
“Youready?”Myjacketmuffleshervoice.
“Notquite,”Isay,spinninghertowardtheranchhouseandsqueezingherbackagainstmyfront.
Iholdmylefthandupinfrontofherandwigglemyfingers.Thefreshlinesofinkonmyringfingercatchesherattention,andsheinstantlygrabsforit.“Gotanothertattooforyouthismorning.”
“Jasper…”hervoicetrailsoffasherfingersbrushoverthedarkink.“That’s…”Herhandstrembleassheholdsmyhandwithbothofherssoreverently.“Permanent.”
“Soarewe.I’mnevergoingtotakethisringoff.”
Shenuzzlesincloseragainstme,andIcanfeelhersmileasherentirebodypressesbackagainstmine.Ifoldmyarmoverhershoulderandlinkmyfingerswithhers.
ThenIpointtothewindowoftheroomthat’salwaysbeenhers.Rightnexttomine.
“Eighteenyearsago,alittleblondegirlpeekedatmeoutofthatexactwindow.Shestaredatmethatday,andIstaredback.Ididn’trealizewhatitmeantbecausewewerejustkids.”
Shehumssoftly,twiningherfingerswithmyfreehand.WrappingherselfupinmelikeI’mherfavoriteblanket.AndIindulgeherbecausewrappedaroundSloaneismyfavoriteplacetobe.“Yousawme?”
Iturnmyheadin,mylipsdustingacrossherforehead.“Yeah.Isawyou,Sloane.Inoticedyoutoo.Didn’tknowwhatmademelookuptherethatday.Hadnocluewhatitallmeant.”
“Whatdiditmean?”
“Thatwhenitcomestoyou,I’mpowerless.”
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Chapter1:Winter
“Ican’tfathomwhyyoufeeltheneedtogoworkatthatdingylittlehospitalinthecountry.”
IusedtothinkRobwasaniceguy.
Now,Iknowbetter.
“Well,Robert,”Idrawl,usinghisfullnametopisshimoffasIshoveafinalsweaterintomyoverfullsuitcase.“I’mnotsureifyou’reaware,buttherearehumans—realliveones—wholiveinthecountrywhoarealsoinneedofmedicalattention.”
I’mnotsurewhyI’mpackingsomuchforasingleshift.WhenI’minChestnutSprings,IliveinscrubsintheERandinleggingsinmyhotelroomatnight.
“Thanksforclarifying,Winter.”There’sabitingtonetohisvoicethatmightmakesomepeopleflinch.Butnotme.AdarkpartofmetakesimmenseprideinthefactIknowexactlyhowtopissoffmyhusband.MylipstwitchasIstruggletocontainmysatisfiedsmile.
“Butwhythathospital?WhyChestnutSprings?You’reconstantlytakingoffoutthereandyoudon’teventellmeyou’releaving.Cometothinkofit”—hescrubsathischininanoverlydramaticfashionwhileleaningupagainstthedoorframeofmybedroom—“youneverevenconsideredmyopiniononwhetherIwouldwantmywifetakingthisjob.Thisisn’tasmartcareermoveforyouatall.”
IusedtothinkRobwasagoodman.
Now,I’veheardhimwhinelikeachild.
Nothingmakesaman’smasculinityshrivelupanddieformequitelikecomplainingaboutawomanexercisingherprofessionalindependence.Hemightaswellstomphisfootandstormoutlikeatinychauvinisttoddler.
Ireachforthezipperandstartforcingittogetheragainstthebulgingcontentsofmysuitcase.“It’sfunny,”Istart,ensuringthatIkeepmytonecoolandeven.“It’salmostlike…youaretheverylastpersonIwouldeverconsultaboutcareerchoices.”
Withahuffofair,Ifinallyslidethezipperintoplaceandlookdownatthehard-shellcase,proppingmyhandsonmyhipsandlettingasatisfiedsmiletouchmylips.
“Whatthehellisthatsupposedtomean,Winter?”
Thewayheaddsmynametotheendofeverysentencefeelslikehe’stryingtoscoldme.
Jokesonhim.Iwon’tbescolded.
He’sblissfullyunawareofwhatittakestonavigatethemedicalsystemasayoungfemaledoctor.IfIletmenasweakasRobsteamrollmeontheregular,Iwouldn’tstandachance.
AndthiscareeristheonlythingI’veeverhadthat’smine.So,hecanfuckallthewayoff.
Flippingonehandover,Igazedownatmyneglectednails,tryingtolookboredbyhim.I’mwonderingifIcanfindagoodplaceforamanicureinChestnutSpringswhenIreply,“Don’tplaystupid.Itpairssopoorlywithwhining.”
IfindmyselfwonderingwhyI’mstillmarriedatall.IknowwhyIthoughtIwasstickingitout.Butnow?Now,Ijustneedtobuckupandgetitdone.Iglancebackdownatmysuitcase,packedlikeI’mleavingforalongasstime,andwonderifmysubconsciousknowssomethingIdon’t.
Maybethatbitchisputtingherfootdownandbreakingmeoutonceandforall.
I’mnotaverse.
“Youwillnotspeaktoyourhusbandthatway.”
MyeyesnarrowonmycuticlesasIstruggletobitedowntheragebubblinginsideofme.Hotmoltenlavasimmeringbelowthecoolsurface,justwaitingtoeruptallovertheplace.
ButI’vekeptthatatbayforyearsnow.IwillnotletDoctorRobValentinebetheonetomakemeerupt.
He’snotworththeenergy.
Ishiftmyeyestohimacrosstheroom.Myroom,becausewhenItoldhiminnouncertaintermsthatIwouldn’tbesleepinginthesamebedashimanylonger,hedirectedmetotheguestroomratherthanmovinghimselfout—likethetruegentlemanheis.
Eventhoughitwashim.
He’sthereasonwearewhereweare.
AndtheworstpartisIlovedhimonce.Hewasallmine.Asafeplaceformetolandaftergrowingupinwhatfeltlikesomesortofdomesticcoldwar.
Iletmyguarddownwithhim.Ifellsodamnhard.
HebrokemyheartfarworsethanI’lleverletanyoneknow.
Idon’trespondtohim,insteadIgrabthehandleofmysuitcaseandshovepasthisleanframe,headingtowardthefrontdoorofoursprawlingten-thousand-foothome.
Ihearhimfollowingme.Dressshoesagainstmarble.Andofcourse,hedoesn’toffertocarrymysuitcaseforme.
Awrysmiletwistsmylips,andIshakemyheadatthethoughthe’dbothertoliftafingerforme.ThehardestthingformetoacceptwiththeimplosionofmymarriageisthatIdidn’tseeitcoming.ThatIcanbesmart,andaccomplished,andstrategicineverythingIdoyetstillallowthisassholetoblindsidemeisjust…offensive.
Beingswindledthiswayirksmetonoend.
Icanfeeltherageradiatingoffofhimasheseethesbehindme.AndIjustcarryonserenely,slippingmysockedfeetintoapairoftallleatherbootsandwrappingalong,brownwoolcoataroundmyself.
“Seriously,Winter?You’renotevengoingtodignifymewithananswer?”
Imethodicallytiethecoatbeltaroundmywaist,decidingIhavezerodesiretodignifyhimatall.
Theproblemis,Robknowsmewell.We’vebeentogetherforfiveyears,whichmeansheunderstandshowtopissmeofftoo.
Hiseyestraceovermyface,takingonaviciouslittleslant.“Ilikedyoubetterwithyourhairlighter.”Hispointerfingersweepsovermyhead,judgingthedarkerstreakstoppedwithawarmertone.He’salwaysbeenobsessiveaboutmehavingthesilveryblondehair,tellingmehowmuchhelovesit.“Thisnewlookisn’tappealing.”
Buttheroottouch-ups,thepurpleshampoo,andthedeepconditionerweretoomuchworkforanexhaustedresident,whichiswhyIrequestedthestylistputinlowlights.
Iblinkacoupleoftimes,likeIcan’tquitebelievehehasthenervetoactlikethewayIcolormyhairisapersonalslighttohim.
ExceptIcan.Becausethisyearhetookhismaskoffandshowedmealltheentitleduglinessunderneath.
“That’sfunny.IlikedyoubetterwhenIthoughtyouhadn’tgroomedmylittlesisterandthenfuckedherover.”
Hescoffs.Scoffs.“That’snothowitwas.Shewasobsessedwithme.”
Mynosewrinkles,smellingthebullshitwaftingoffofhim.“Amucholderdoctorsaveshisunderagepatient’slife.Useshislooksandpoweroverhertogethereatingoutofhishand.Becomesaherotoher.Then,assoonassheturnseighteen,startsfuckingheronthedown-lowlikeshe’ssomesortofdirtysecret.Andwhenhemeetsherolder,moreappropriatesister,hedropsherlikeastoneandmarriestheonethatwon’tlosehimhisjobforamedicallicenseviolation.Oh!”—myfingershootsupintheair—“except,here’sthekicker.Hekeepscontactingheranyway,hopingtosabotageherwithboyfriendswhenshetriestomoveon,stringingheralong,justbecausehecan.”
Myangerswirls,butI’mtheonestirringmypotbygivingintohimatall.
Hisarmscrossandheglaresatme.Allgoldencoiffedhair,brightblueeyes,andKen-dollgoodlooks.“YouknowIneverlovedher.”
Whitehotragelancesthroughme.EverythingaroundmeblursasmyeyesfocusontheassholeImarried.Itrytokeepmyvoicecool.Yearsofpracticingthisfacadehavecarriedmethroughthemostheartrendingofmoments.Ihavethisactdownpat.
ButtodayIstruggle.
“Youthinkyouneverlovinghermakesitbetter?That’smybabysisteryou’retalkingabout.Theonewhoalmostdied.Andyoufuckedheraroundforyears.”
Mywordsechointhespaciousfoyeraswestareeachotherdown.
“Forwhatyou’vedonetome?Iamindifferenttoyou.Forwhatyou’vedonetoher?Ihateyou.Iwouldn’thavetouchedyouwithaone-million-footpoleifI’drealizedthetypeofmanyoureallyare.Foolmeonce,neveragain.That’sthenewsaying,Rob.”
Withthat,Itugmysuitcaseupandspinonmyheel,flingingthedooropensoharditsmashesintothewallbehindit.IhatehowfiredupIam.HowoutofcontrolIfeel.ButIholdmychinup,pressmyshouldersdown,andwalkoutofthathousewithalltheplacid,unaffectedcomposureIcanmuster.
“Doesthatmeanyou’releavingme?”
Howcansomeonesoeducatedbesostupid?Ialmostlaugh.Instead,Ifliphimthefingerovermyshoulderandkeepwalking.
“Youdon’tevenlikeher!”heyellsinawhinytonethatscrapesdownmynecklikenailsonachalkboard.
ButIdon’tdignifyhisjabswithasingleglanceback.Ijusttakesatisfactioninknowinghe’swrong.
Thathe’snotassmartashethinksheis.
BecauseIlovemysister.
Ijusthaveafucked-upwayofshowingit.
IhopeIdon’tdienowthatI’mtakingsomecontrolofmylifeback.
ChestnutSpringsGeneralHospitalisonlyanhourawayfromthehouseIlivein,butitseemsI’llnevergetthere.Istartedtakingshiftshereafewmonthsago,soIcouldprobablymakethedrivewithmyeyesclosed,buttodayit’ssnowinghardenoughthatI’mwhiteknucklingthesteeringwheel.
I’malsostillstewingoverlosingmycool.
Robstartedthatfightbysayinghecan’tfathomwhyI’dwanttoworkatthisdingyhospital,andIdidn’tfeelinclinedtotellhimthetruth.
One,thatworkinginahospitalwhereI’mnothiswifeandmymother’sdaughterisarelief.Icanpracticemedicineandtakeprideinmyworkwithouthavingtocontendwithallthewhispersandpityingglances.Withoutthatshithangingovermyhead.
Becauseeveryoneknows,butnoonetalksaboutit,andthatapproachtolifeiswearingonmysanity.
Andtwo,becauseI’veneverwantedtobearoundmysistermorethanIdonow.Whenshewassick,Iusedtosneakintothehospitalandcheckonher,readherchartsoIknewhowshewasdoingeventhoughIwasstillonlyinuniversity.Andnow?Now,Ilookatmylittlesisterandjustseetoomanyyearsmissed.
Iseeawomanwholivedinmiserytosavemealittleofmyown.
Itwouldseemwe’rekindredthatway.
She’shappynow,engagedtoamanwhosehairisfartoolongbutwholovesherinawaythatmakesmegreenwithenvy.ButI’malsohappyforher—godknowsshedeservesalittlepeace.Sheleftherlawdegreeandsecurejobatourfather’ssportsmanagementfirmintherearviewmirrortorunagymandliveonapicturesquelittlecountrybumpkinranch.
Iadmireher.
ButIhavenoideahowtomendtheriftbetweenus.So,Itookapart-timepositioninthesmalltownshe’slivingin,hopingImightrunintoherorganically.
Ihavethisrecurringstoryinmyhead,onethatcropsupallthetime.Imustbetryingtomanifestitorsomeshit.
Init,she’sstrollingdownthesidewalk,andIbumpstraightintoherasIexittheadorablelittleParisiancoffeeshoponMainStreet.Shelooksshockedtoseeme.Iofferherawarmsmile,anditisn’tforced.Then,Ihikeathumbovermyshoulderandsay,“Hey,you,uh…wannagrabacoffee?”inacasualandcharmingwaythatwillmakehersmilebackatme.
Ofcourse,I’dhavetospendtimesomewhereotherthanthehospitalorhotelforthattohappen.ButIkeepslinkingbetweenthetwosafetyzones,tooscaredandtooembarrassedtofaceher.
“Fuckit,”ImumbleasIsniffandsituptaller,eyeslaserfocusedontheroad.“Siri,callSummerHamilton.”
Thebeatofsilencethatgreetsmeisheavy,ladenwithyearsofanticipation
“CallingSummerHamilton,”theroboticvoicereplies.Theformalityisajabtothechest.Mostsisterswouldhavesomecutenicknameintheirphone.PerhapsI’dcallherSumifwewerefriends.Asitisnow,Imightaswellincludehermiddlenameinthecontactlisting.
Thephonerings.Once.Twice.
Andthenshe’sthere.“Winter?”sheasksbreathlessly.Mynameisn’tanaccusationonherlipsthough.It’s…hopeful.
“Hi,”Isaystupidly.Becausenonumberofyearsofeducationorreadingmedicaltextbookscouldpreparemeforthisconversation.Sinceeverythingblewupinthehospitalthatday,I’veplayedoutthisconversationinmyheadamilliontimes.I’velaidawakeatnightpreparingmyself.
Anditwasn’tenough.
“Hi…areyou…areyouokay?”
Inod,whilethebridgeofmynosestings.I’vebeenawfultoSummerovertheyearsandherfirstinclinationistoaskifI’mokay.
“Win?”
Isuckinadeepbreathofair.Win.Fuck.Thatnickname.Shejustfallsintoitsoeasily.IabsentlywonderhowI’mnamedinhercontacts.Ialwaysimagineditwas“EvilHalfSister”orsomethingalongthoselines.
She’sjustsofuckingnice.Italmostmakesmenauseousthatsomeonecouldbethisnicetomeaftereverythingthatwe’vebeenthrough,afterhowcoldI’vebeentoher.
Idon’tdeserveSummer.ButIwantto.Andthatcomeswithbeinghonest.
“Notespecially,”Ifinallysay,tryingtocoverthehitchinmyvoicebyclearingmythroat.
“Okay.”Icanimaginehernoddingrightnow,rollingherlipstogether,mind-whirringasshetriestosolvethisproblemforme.That’sjusthowsheis.Afixer.
“Whereareyou?Doyouneedmetocomeandgetyou?Areyouhurt?”Shepauses.“Oh!Doyouneedlegalhelp?I’mnotpracticinganymore,butIcould—”
“CanIseeyou?”Iblurt.Andnowitseemslikeit’sherturnforstunnedsilence.“I’monmywaytoChestnutSpringsalready.Icould…Idon’tknow.”Araggedsighdragsitswayupmythroat.“Buyyouacoffee?”Ifinishlamely,glancingatthedigitalclockthatshowsit’salreadysixp.m.
Hervoicecomesthroughthephonealittlethick,alittlesoft.“Iwouldlovethat.Butwecoulddowineinstead?”
Aknotoftensionunfurlsinmychest,oneIdidn’tevenknowwasthereuntilnow.AndnowthatI’venoticedit,Ican’thelpbutfeellikeit’sbeenthereforyears.
“Yeah.”Myfingerspulseonthesteeringwheel.“Yeah.Wine.Good.”
Isoundlikeafuckingcavewoman.
“We’rehavingafamilydinneratthemainhousetonight.Therewillbeabunchofpeople.I’dloveifyoucametoo.”
Mythroatclogsuncharacteristically.ThisbrandofkindnessfeelsforeignafterlivinginasterilebubblewithRobandmymomforsolong.Thisbrandofforgiveness…Idon’tknowhowtoreacttoit.
SoIjustrollwithit.SeemsliketheleastIcando.
“I’llbethere.Canyousendmetheaddress?”
Inmyhastetogetthehelloutofthecity,IignoredmygastankforaslongasIcould.Nodoubt,cuttingitdangerouslyclose.WhichhasonlyaddedtomyanxietythefartherawayI’vegottenfromthatcitylimit.
So,IgiveinandstopforgasinChestnutSpringsbeforehittingthesketchybackroadmyphonemappedouttotheranch.
AsIstandhere,freezingandwishingI’dwornmoreappropriateoutdoorwinterclothing,Iletalltheworrycreepinthroughmycarefullyerectedwalls.
WorryoverseeingSummer.
WorryoversittingdowntodinnerwithabunchofpeoplewhonodoubtthinkI’maheinousbitch.
Worryoverthesnowpackedroads.I’veseentoomanycaraccidenttraumasrollintotheERlately.
WorryovermycareerandwhatthehellI’mgoingtodo—whereI’mgoingtoland.
Hilariously—albeitadarkkindofhilarious—IfeelnexttonoconcernoverthethoughtofleavingRobforgood.I’vestrungthatoutforalongtime.I’vethoughtaboutit,lookedatitfromeveryangle.
OnlyastupidpersonwouldstaymarriedtoRobwithnothingtyingthemtohim
AndI’malotofthings,butstupidisn’toneofthem.
Isighadeep,heavysighandwatchmybreathpuffoutfrombetweenmylipsintoasmokylittlecloud,moreobviousundertheneonlightsthatflooddownoverthegasbays.Thetipsofmyfingersgofromtinglingtodownrightnumbinamatterofseconds,wherethey’rewrappedaroundtheredplastichandle.IbounceonthespotandlookupwhenIhearabelljangleatthedoorofthegasstation.
Themanwhowalksoutthroughtheglassdoorisallswaggerandbroadshoulders.Darkhair,darkereyes,lashesthatmaketheblondegirlinmealittleirritated.He’ssmirkingdownatthelottoticketinhishand,likehethinkshe’sgoingtowin.
Icouldtellhimhe’snotgoingtowin.Thatit’sawasteofmoney.ButIgetthedistinctimpressionthatthisisthetypeofmanwhodoesn’tcare.
He’sgotunlacedboots,jeansstackedaroundthetops.Acoupleoflongsilverchainsadornhischest,disappearingunderaplaidbutton-downthatisopenjustalittletoofar,aheavyknitcardiganslungcarelesslyoverthetop.
He’ssexywithouteventrying.Hedoesn’tevenseemcold.Ibetherollsoutofbedaftersleepinginyesterday’ssocksandjustshovesthembackinthosewornleatherboots.
I’vestaredathimsolong,sothoroughly,thatthegaspumpmakesaloudclankingnoiseasitbumpsbackintomypalm,signalingthetankisfull.
Thenoiseofitdrawshisattentionmyway,andheturnsthefullforceofhisgoodlooksonme.Thesquarejawdustedwiththeperfectamountofstubble,toppedoffwithlipsthatarejustwastedonaman.Thewaythismanlooks?It’sabsurd.
Idropmyheadquickly,fumblingwiththepumptogetitlatchedbackinhisholder.Mytongueswipesatmylips.
Igetthedistinctsensethatthemaniswatchingme,butIdon’tglanceuptosee.There’saflutterinmychestandaheatinmycheeks,oneIhaven’tfeltforavery,verylongtime.
BecauseIwasactuallyhappilymarried.AndnowI’m…not.
Ithink.
AndthisisthefirstmanI’vereallyletmyselflookatinappropriately.Amanwhocan’tbothertotiehisshoesandplaysthelotto.
“Ugh,”IgroanatmyselfasIapproachmydoor,suddenlyalotlesscoldthanIwasbeforeIsawhim.
ButasI’mabouttoslideintomyseat,Ilookbackovermyshoulderattheman.
Theonestandingathissilvertruck.
Theonewho’sstilllookingatmewithaknowingsmirkonhisface.
Theonewhorunsahandthroughhisperfectlytousledhairandwinksatme.
I’minmycarandoutontothedarkroadlikeashot,gettingawayasquicklyaspossible.
BecausetheverylastthingIneedinmyheadisamanlikethat.
Chapter2–Theo
TheblondewomanstaredatmelikeIwassomesortofalien.Iactuallyhadtostopandstarebackbecauseshewassofuckingblatant.
IwasreadytocrackajokeabouthowobjectifiedIfeltbythewayshewaslookingatme.Butthenshelickedherlipsonce,blinked,andshotoff.
Andit’sashamebecauseIwasn’tfeelingobjectifiedatall.OrmaybeIlikebeingobjectified.Becauseifshehadlookedmeintheeye,allbetswouldhavebeenoff.Icouldhavegivenhersomethingtostareat.
AsIswingupintomytruck,Ichuckletomyself.IknowthestunningblondeinthefancyAudiwillcrossmymindfromtimetotime.Becausetherewassomethingunusuallywholesomeaboutthatinteraction,likeshewasateenagercaughtgawkingandgotembarrassedaboutit.I’dfeelbadforherifIdidn’tfeelsobadformyselfthatsheranoffbeforeIcouldgethernumber.
IhitthedarkenedroadheadingouttoWishingWellRanch.I’vecomeouthereenoughtimesovertheyearsthatIknowwhereI’mgoing,whetherit’sdarkornot.Mymentor,RhettEaton,livesouthereandwithmymomandsisterlivingdownintheU.S.hisfamilyhasbecomealittlelikemyownovertheholidays.
I’dusuallyheadtoMom’splaceforChristmas,butsheandmystepdadtookacruiseandmylittlesisterwentwiththem.
Putmeonanangrybull?I’mfine.
Putmeonabigboatwithnolandanywhereinsight?Hardpass.IsawanOprahepisodeaboutpeoplewhogomissingonthose,andI’mtooyoungandprettytodie.
Withinafewminutes,thereareredtaillightsaheadofmeandI’mgainingonthemquickly.Reallyquickly.
“Comeonnnn,”IgroanintothequietcabofmytruckasItipmyheadback.
Yeah,it’ssnowing,buttheroadsarehard-packedandnoticy.Ifinallycatchuptothecarandrealizejusthowslowthey’regoing.Thirtykilometersanhour.Inafifty.Andthisisn’tevenaschoolzone.
It’swhenIgetcloseenoughthatIrealizeit’sthesmokeshowintheAudi.Ishouldhaveguessed.Theheeledbootsandthelongcoatdidn’tscreamcountrygirl.
Andneitherdoesthewayshedrivesabackroad.
Thesignallightflicksleft.Thevehicleslowsandthenspeedsup.
Thesignallightflashesright,andthecarswervesalittle.
Maybeshe’slost?Ordrunk?IsometimeszoneoutlikeshedidstaringatmewhenI’vehadafewtoomany.
ThenIgetcloseenoughtoseethelightofhercellphonethroughthebackwindow.
Perfect.Textinganddriving.Thischickisgonnakillherself.Orpossiblyme.
Maybeifwesharedahospitalroom,Icouldgethernumberafterall.Mightbeworthit.
Whensheslamsthebrakesunexpectedly,Istartleandhonk.
“Seriously!”Ishout,feelingmyheartrateratchetup.Idon’tcarehowhotsheis.She’safuckingterribledriver.
Sheshootsforwardbutslowsagain.Ibackoff,notwantingtobetooclosetosomeonethiserratic.
Butdammit,Iendupthinkingofmymomormysisterlostonabackroad.Igobacktoherbeinglostinsteadofdrivinglikeanassholeonpurpose.Aquickglanceatmyphoneinitsholstertellsmereceptionisofficiallygoneonthisstretch,soshecan’tpossiblybetextinganyone.
Iflashmyhighbeams,thinkingmaybeifshepullsoverIcanhelp.
Iimmediatelyfeellikeaserialkiller.
Nowomaninherrightmindispullingoveronadarkroadtotalktoastrangemanwhoflashedhishighbeamsather.
So,Isettlein,crankmyChrisStapleton,andletmyeyeswanderoutoverthesnow-coveredfields.Allcrispandwhite,reflectingthelightofthemoon,theymakeitfeelnotsodarkanymore.Beforelong,I’mapproachingtheturnoffintoWishingWellRanch,whichmeansIcanfinallybidmyterribledrivingtemptressfarewell.
Exceptshesignals.AndturnsintoWishingWellRanch.
She’sdefinitelygoingtothinkI’mstalkingher.Andifwerebothheadingtothesameplace,she’sprobablysomeoneIknowinaroundaboutway.
Oncethelithousecomesintoview,hercaracceleratesrighttothefrontporch.Shehitsthebrakesandfliesoutofhercar,slammingthedoorandstorminginmydirectionbeforeIcanevengetoutofmytruck.
WhenIdomakeitout,Ihear,“Areyoufuckinginsane?”
Okay.She’smad.Andshedoesn’tsounddrunkatall.She’sgotherkeyswedgedbetweenherfingerslikeclawsandIinstantlylikethisgirl.
Nopreamble.Justcomesoutswinging.She’stinyandferocious.IfeellikePeterPanwhenhegetsreamedbyTinkerbell.
“Easy,Tink.”Iofferherasmileandliftmyhandsinsurrender.
“Tink?”Hervoicegoesevenlouder.
Iwaveahandoverhercasually.“Yeah,you’vegotthiswholeangrylittleTinkerbellvibehappening.Idigit.”Iletmygazetraceherbodyforonlyamoment,notwantingtoborderonleering.Buthey,fairisfairafterthewayshegawkedatthegasstation.
“You’refuckingnuts,youknowthat?”Shestartsbackin.“Youdrivelikeanassholebehindmeforasolidtenminutes,andnowyoufollowmehere?To…to…checkmeoutandcomparemetoaDisneypixie?”Herarmsflapangrily,andherdaintylittlefacetwistedupinfury.Alooklikethatcouldincinerateamanonthespot.
Butnotme.
“Ithinkshe’sactuallyafairy.Andfortherecord,drivingtwentybelowthespeedlimitisalsodangerousandcouldkillsomeone.Mostlyme.Fromboredom,”Ijoke,tryingtolightenthemood.
Hereyeswidenalmostcomically,asuresignthatIfailedtolightenthemoodatall.“It’sdarkandsnowy!Idon’tknowthearea.Therecouldbewildlife!Drivingslowlyissafesolongasaback-fortyhillbillyisn’tridingmyassinhissmall-dicktruck,flashinghishighbeamsatme.”
Mylipsclampdownagainsteachother.
Fuck.
Ireallylikethisgirl.
“Ihearthatifyouwantyourassridden,asmalldickisthewaytogo.SomaybeI’myourguy.”
Mydickisn’tsmall.ButIwillhappilymakesacrificestolandagoodjoke.Onlyasmall-dickeddudewouldmissthisopportunity.
Ishouldn’thavesaidit,butthelookofpureshockthatpaintsherprettyfeaturesmakesitallworthit.She’ssofiredup;Ijustcan’thelpmyself.PlaywithfireandI’llbetheretopourgasolineonitforyou.
Herhandshootsupbetweenus.“I’mmarried.Youfuckingpig.Nowleave.”Herhandflipsoutfirmly,pointingdownthedriveway.
Ijustshrug.“Marriedfornow,maybe.”
I’mpersistent.Andthisgirlwasn’tstaringatmelikeamarriedwoman.Notahappyoneanyway.
It’sRhett’svoicethatdrawsourattentiontothesprawlingwrap-aroundporchattachedtothehugeranchhouse.“Yeah,don’tworry,Winter.We’redefinitelygonnafreeyoufromthathusbandandburyhiminthebackfield.It’llbelikethatDixieChickssong.RobisthenewEarl.”
Winter.Winter,asinSummer’ssister?Fuck,that’sastupidcombinationofnamesfortwosisters.Theyshouldhatetheirparentsinsteadofeachother,ifyouaskme
Iglancebackatthewomanbeforeme,aboutsixfeetaway.Everyone’sdescribedherascoldanddistant.I’veheardthestories.Thedrama.They’vemadehersoundlikesomesortofcriminalmastermind.
AllIseeisafirecrackerwhoneedsmyhelptoworkoutsomeaggression.
AndI’mnotmadathelpingherwiththat.Notevenalittlebit.I’mveryphilanthropicthatway.
Winterrubshertempleslikeshehasaheadache.Iconsiderofferingheranaspirinfrommytruck,oranorgasm.Ihearthosehelptoo.
“You’reluckyyoumakemylittlesistersohappy,Eaton,”shesays,soundingutterlyexhausted.
Rhetthumsgood-naturedly,hiseyestakingonthatmeltydruggedlookhegetswhenpeoplesomuchasmentionSummer.Buthedoesn’taddressthat,insteadhesays,“Theo’sjustababythough.Youcan’tcorrupthim,Winter.”
Irollmyeyes.“I’mnotababy.I’mtwenty-six.”
Rhettscoffs.“No,youaren’t.You’retwenty-two.”
Goodgod.DoeshereallythinkheknowsmyagebetterthanIdo?
“Dude.Iwastwenty-twowhenIfirstmetyouonthecircuit.I’vegottenolder.You’redoingthesamethingmymomdoeswithherpets.Theyhitacertainageandthenshesaysthatthey’rethatsameageuntilonedaytheyjustdie.”
Hechuckles.“Well,I’llbe.You’relikethatstorewiththeskimpydresses.Forever22.”
Ipropmyhandsonmyhipsandsighwithabemusedtwisttomymouth.“Yeah.You’redefinitelygettingold.ThatstoreiscalledForever21.”
Rhettjustwavesmeoff.“Whatever.Ionlyknowabouttheskimpydresses.”
“Areyoutwodone?IneedadrinkifI’mgoingtostayhereallnight,”Wintercutsin,clearlyirritatedbytherouteourconversationhastaken.ThoughRhett’sinterruptiondidsuccessfullyinterruptourlittlespat.
Sadly.Iwaskindofenjoyingsparringwithher.Shecanholdherown.
“Ah,yes,Winter,meetmyprotegeTheoSilva.Theo,meetDoctorWinterHamilton,myfuturesister-in-la—“
“WinterValentine,”sheinterruptshimwithastiffcorrection.
“Fornow,”Iadd,winkingatherandgettingoffonproddingherfarmorethanIshould.
Shegivesmethemostdramaticeyerollandstartswalkinginmydirection.Istickmyhandout—becauseMamaraisedagentleman—butshejustwalkspast,glaringatmewitheyesbrightbluelikethebottomofaflame.Iturnmyheadtoholdhergazeasshedrawsevenwithme,shouldertoshoulder,andthenIswipemyhandthroughmyhairinthecheesiestwaypossible.
Andwink.ThesamewayIdidatthegasstation.Ourlittlesecret.
“Callyourdogoff,Eaton.”Shekeepswalking,onlyaddressingRhett,likeI’mnotevenhere.Butgoddamn,Iloveachallenge.
Iturnwithaloud,“Woof!”asIwatchherpetiteframeslipintothebrightlightofthewarm,bustlinghouse.
Rhettislaughing.Atme.Notwithme.“You’reanidiot,Theo.”
Ishakemyhead.“Dude.IthinkI’minlovewithyoursister-in-law.She’ssofiery.”
Nowit’sRhettshakinghishead,likeheknowssomethingIdon’t.IfollowhimintothehousebecauseIwanttoknowmore.
IwanttoknowmoreaboutWinterValentine.
Likewhenthatdivorceishappening.
Pre-orderRecklesstoday!Acknowledgments
YoungerElsiedatedsomehockeyplayers.ButnonewereaJasperGervais.AndIreallyfeellikeIrightedsomewrongsinthisworldbycreatinghim.It’sjustproofthatbookboyfriendsareoftenasuperiorbreedofman,because,tome,Jasperisperfect.
Inallseriousness,IhopeyoulovedhimandSloaneasmuchasIdo.Becausethesetwocharactersreallygottheirhooksintome.Ifelteveryfeelingandeveryheartache,allthelonging—Ifeltallthelove.Itwasn’taneasybooktowrite.Butitwasconsuming.I’mnotsureI’veeverhadsuchavisceralexperiencetowritingabook,sothisstorywillforeverbespecialforme.
Tomyreaders,thankyou.Youcontinuetoblowmeaway.WherewouldIbewithoutyou?Yourexcitementisinfectiousandyourpassionisinspiring.Ilovewritingstoriesforyou.KnowingtherearepeopleintheworldwhoaresoinvestedinthethingsImakeupinmyheadistrulyhumbling.
Tomyhusbandandson,thankyouforgivingmethespacetobecreative—tobemyownperson.Todisappearintootherworlds.ToworkuntilIcan’tseestraightjusttohitadeadline.Idon’tthinkIcoulddothiswithoutmytwoboysbeingasproudofmeasthetwoofyouare.Iambeyondblessedtohaveyouboth
Tomyparents,rememberwhenmygrade10EnglishteachertoldmeIwasabadwriter?Maybehewastryingtoinspireme.
TomyassistantKrista,theysaythatfood,water,air,andshelterarethebasichumanneeds(Igoogledit,okay?)But“they”arewrong.I’dtradeshelterforhavingyoutoworkwith.
TomySpicySprintSluts,loveyourfaces.
ToCatherine,#immunitynecklacesforever.
ToKandi,Idon’tthinkI’dhavefinishedthisbookontimeifitwasn’tforyourcheerleadingandearlymorningsprintsessions.TheSpicySprintSlutsmakesmylifeandcan’twaittowritemorebookswithyou.#gratitudebombs
TomybetareadersJulia,Amy,Trinity,Leticia,Josette,andKrista,thankyouforhelpingmemakethisbookthebestitcouldbe.Yournotesmakemelaughandyourfeedbackmakesmeabetterwriter.I’dbelostwithoutyou.
TomyeditorPaula,ifI’mthebutteryou’rethebread.Wegosowelltogether.
TomycoverdesignerEcho,thankyoufortoleratingmeandmyincessantquestions/ideasforcoversandgraphics.ThispackagingonthisseriesisbeyondbeautifulandIhaveyoutothankforthat.
Finally,tomyARCreadersandstreetteammembers,THANKYOU.Somanyofyouhavebeenwithmesincetheverybeginningofthiswildride.Andnowsomanyofyouarenew.Supportinganauthorinthiswaymightnotfeellikeabigdealtoyou,butit’sa*huge*dealtome.Everypost,everyTikTok,everyreviewliterallychangesmylife.Idon’tknowthatI’lleverybeabletorepayyourkindness,butIwilldomybesttopayitforwardinwhateverwayIcan.
Happyreading,friends.TheElsieSilverSaloon
ComehangoutinTheSaloononFacebookandinteractwithElsie!Earlyannouncements,exclusiveexcerpts,bonusgiveaways,andgeneralbookboyfriendchitchatallhappenshere.
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