I keep peeking at Jasper across the table from me, wanting to see him smile, wanting to see him looking relieved and happy after weeks of seeing him look devastated.
He’s not wearing a cap tonight, and it makes it so easy to see every expression that touches his face. I want to know he’s okay, but I still quickly glance away when his eyes lock on mine.
My cheeks heat and my spine tingles, and my brain plunges me back into last night when he slid his fingers between my legs and made me come harder than I ever have.
I told him so much and he told me so little. He still held back and that stung. I’ve always felt like I’m his person, his safe place to let it all out, but in the past couple of days it’s come to my attention that he still keeps so much locked up tight.
He hasn’t told me everything and that shouldn’t matter. We all have those secrets, I guess.
But it does. I want to know. I always want to be the person who knows the most about him. That’s always been the one thing I’ve had with him that no other woman can claim.
I might not know his body. I might not have memorized all his tattoos. But I know his heart. I’m intimately familiar with all the pieces of it he’s given to me over the years.
But they aren’t enough.
I want the rest of it too.
When a lull in the conversation hits, I stifle a yawn.
Violet, sitting beside me, pats my knee. “Tired?”
I nod. “Yeah. Think I’m going to pack it in for the night.”
“Okay. I took your bags to the little A-frame cottage near the creek. That way the kids won’t wake you at like five in the morning.”
“Perfect.”
Billie leans over and whispers in my ear, “That cottage has become known as the Love Shack around here.”
Violet gives her an unimpressed look. “That’s what we called it when you and Vaughn lived there.”
Billie holds her hands up in surrender. “Right. I’m just saying there’s good ‘fuck me’ juju in there.”
I push to stand, smiling at their antics, but freeze and glance down at the sassy brunette. “Wait. Is this the kitchen counter place?”
She shrugs with a knowing grin. “I’m a clean freak. Don’t worry. I sanitized it.”
I roll my lips together to keep from barking out a laugh, but Jasper draws my attention from across the table. “I’ll go with you.” He nods to the men at the other end of the table. “Thank you for dinner. It was excellent.”
There are hugs and goodnights, but they all blend into the heavy pounding of my heart because within minutes it’s just Jasper and me walking on a quiet farm under the dark night sky.
We’ve been here before.
In the dark together.
But it’s never felt quite like this.
Jasper enters the code into the lock on the door. The tension between us is so thick right now that neither of us even laughs about that code being 6969. I’m tired and wound up all at once.
We step inside and I toe my shoes off, keeping my eyes trained on the floor. I showered and changed at the main house when we arrived but haven’t been into this cottage yet.
It’s a cozy open concept with exposed wood beams. I assume the flight of stairs leads to a bedroom. Or bedrooms? I’m not sure because it doesn’t seem like there’s enough space for more than one.
But no one even asked us about that. So either there are definitely two beds or my cousin and her friends are playing matchmaker in the fucking Love Shack.
“Cute cottage,” I say absently as I look around.
Jasper’s tightly corded back strains against the navy T-shirt he’s wearing as he pours himself a glass of water from the dispenser on the fridge. I take a moment to ogle the broad expanse of his shoulders, his posture always so immaculate, and the way it tapers down to his waist.
To that round hockey-boy butt.
I tip my head up and stare at the ceiling, all wooden planks and cross beams. Industrial wrought iron light fixtures and a fan hang above me, a funky contrast to the Persian rug beneath my feet. Cushy leather couches face the tall A-frame windows.
“You must be feeling relieved about Beau,” I say right as Jasper turns and leans against the kitchen counter. I absently wonder if it’s that counter but decide against bringing it up right now.
“Yeah. Will be good to see him. Hopefully, we’ll get more information from Harvey once he gets there.”
I nod. We found out later in the day Harvey was flying out East to a military hospital where they had transferred Beau so he could be with him.
“Are we going to stick around here at all? Or head straight back?”
His head tilts, and the expression he gets when he’s heading out on the ice paints his features. The focus. The edge. The narrowed gaze.
“I don’t know, Sloane. What do you want?”
I sigh heavily, rolling my shoulders back and holding my head high where I stand near the front door. “For once, I would like you to tell me what’s going on in your head. I’m tired, Jasper. Tired of guessing, tired of tiptoeing around everyone else’s feelings, tired of giving so much and getting so little back. And not just from you, from everyone. Can you just tell me something real for once? What are you feeling? What is our plan? Are we staying here? Or are we driving back? It’s really not complicated. And since you’re the one on a timeline with the team, I’m going to assume that you have a plan. Because you always do.”
He glares at me so I keep going. “You just, as usual, don’t feel the need to talk about it.” I wave a hand in front of me, frustration bleeding into my tone. “Or anything, for that matter. I guess it’s much better for you to keep everything locked inside and then blind-side me with all of your shit at once. So, like, can I have a heads-up or something?”
I watch his jaw pop, fingers clenched around the glass of water, forearm rippling as he squeezes it. We stare each other down, and I dive into those eyes I know so well, willing him to say something. I’ve spent years monologuing while he listens, but I’m done with playing that role for him now. Frustration simmers in my chest before leaping out.
“Oh my god, Jasper! Fucking say something!”
“I feel like I could crumble under the weight of not wanting to disappoint you. I’m paralyzed by my fear of losing you.
His words suck all the air out of the room. Like a punch straight to the gut. I remember falling off the tire swing on the ranch as a child and gasping for breath.
He was there . . . rubbing my back and telling me to stay calm.
I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off.
“The thought of needing you this badly and letting you down.” He drops my gaze, shaking his head. “It fucking kills me.”
“You’re never going to lose me,” I whisper back, itching to rush forward and touch him but wanting to give him space. I don’t want him to corner him or smother him.
“I almost did lose you.” He takes a couple of steps forward, and I think he’s going to come to me. But he places the glass of water on the marble island before propping his hands there, like that island is the only thing keeping him from moving across the room toward me again.
As though he’s fighting to keep himself away from me.