I see a slight smile on her lips as a curtain of blonde hair falls across her face.
“No, you should have done it.” You were great taking care of my feet.
His feet.
My eyes travel down her legs to the floor and I remember those days. The blisters. The redness. The inflamation.
I kept coming to help her even though she didn’t ask me to. Even if he told me not to. Looking back, it was one of those nights when I first saw Sloane as a woman, and not the blonde girl at the ranch. A cousin. A friend.
It happened while I was rubbing her sore feet and running my thumb along the arch of her foot. Her head leaned back against the cushions of the cream sofa, and the column of her throat was exposed, catching the warm glow of the floor lamp behind her in a way that left me transfixed. Shadows played on their collarbones. Her cheeks turned pink.
The moan that left his lips made me shift uncomfortably in my jeans. After I stopped rubbing her feet, I realized she wasn’t a girl at all. And I wanted what I couldn’t have.
But she was still young and had just started living alone. I needed a friend. Before long, she already had a boyfriend and the ship had sailed. With our age difference, the close family relationship, his father… there were too many ties, too many complications.
Too afraid of losing her.
Not that I would have subjected her to me anyway. But from time to time, I found myself dreaming. Or his face would appear in my mind while I was showering, while my hand was wrapped…
-That’s it. Now lie down and let it dry.
Her palm rests in the middle of my chest and she pushes me towards the bed, pressing her bare legs against the inside of my knees.
Many people look at me like I’m a Rubik’s cube they can’t solve. My colors are messy and on the wrong sides, but Sloane doesn’t care that it’s messy. He never looked at me like I needed a fix. He always looked at me like he does now. Tender and understanding.
When his eyes land on my bare torso, tracing the outlines of my dark tattoos, the comfort of the moment becomes intimate. Her exhale is harsh in the silent room before her eyes fixate on my boxers and drift to where her bare legs press against the inside of mine. My gaze falls on his lips and I see how they open in surprise. As if she was so busy tending to me that she hadn’t noticed our mutual state of nakedness.
Clearing my throat, I quickly stand up and gently push her away from me. I take the damp cloth and throw it in the dirty clothes basket.
-Thank you. -My voice comes out hoarse and tense. I wonder if she notices, but I don’t dare look at her. Instead, I focus on the steady beat of my heart. I search blindly in the dark drawer of my dresser.
-Good night. My voice breaks like a teenager, and I shake my head before putting on a T-shirt and sitting on the bed, as if a T-shirt and a simple comforter were going to protect me from whatever that moment we just had was. share.
I hit the pillow with my sore fist, making to position it properly. It hurts, but I ignore it. Or maybe I enjoy it.
“Jas?” Her tone is soft and unsure as she stares at me, and I hate the idea that I’ve made her uncomfortable with my abrupt response.
I hit the pillow harder because I hate a lot of things right now.
“Jas?” Tell me. Tell me what’s on your mind.
I turn to her, all my restraint breaking under the weight of the night.
-My head? My head, Sunny? My head is a fucking mess. I hate that Beau is missing and that my family is suffering. I hate that my team is struggling and that I’ve been sidelined. I especially hate that someone took advantage of you, that someone hurt you. That he belittled you. He yelled at you . You’re one of the most important people in my life, and I treated you like shit. And I really hate that.
I hiss the last words with venom. Once they’ve left my lips, I gasp, breathless from the vomit of words I’ve just thrown all over my childhood bedroom at the girl who always listens.
The girl who is always there for me. The girl I almost lost.
I should be able to let it go, but her arranged relationship with Sterling hurts me so intensely that it hurts deep in my bones. And I’m not good at forgetting things. Every corner of my mind is loaded with regrets.
“Jasper, why are you so angry about this? “She seems confused.” I’m fine.
“I’m angry because I want you happy and safe. You weren’t. I walked away when I found out you were engaged. What I don’t admit out loud is that my feelings were too mixed up and complicated to face after that announcement. It took my breath away in a way I never saw coming. But you still needed my help, and I wasn’t there for you. You were so close to being trapped in a life that would have been miserable for you.
This past week has brought me to a state where I’m practically drooling to protect her, to rescue her, to make sure she doesn’t find herself in that situation again. And I’m realizing that what I feel is much more than a brotherly feeling of protection.
It’s envy. It is possession.
Jasper. His eyes are wide, his hands open as he raises them and drops them again with a shrug of his shoulders. He comes closer and looks at my face. I’m here, right? I’m here. With you. His fingers slide over the hand that I still have resting on the pillow and he looks into my eyes. It’s just you and me. Together. And I’m safe.
I nod. It’s all I can do now. My limbs are stiff.
Too many emotions. His body too close.
-Move on.
My head moves in his direction.
-That?
Move your ass.
-Because?
Those pale blue irises curl around his head with so much attitude. Reminds me of her when I was a teenager.
“Because I’m not going to leave you alone tonight.”
My body stiffens.
-Because?
“Because I’m worried about the safety of the walls of this room.” The voice he uses is light, but his eyes are a little pinched.
Sloane isn’t worried about the walls. She’s worried about me. That’s why she used to go out on the roof with me too. She’s always been a little unsure if I would take a turn in that direction.
If he had hurt me.
Of course I have thought about suicide. But especially in the way everyone has done it. What it would take. If only I could move on… but since the Eatons took me in, it was never an option.
I know what it feels like to lose a loved one, and I couldn’t do that to these people who have become my family. I will suffer before doing the same to them.
-Because? I ask, wanting validation in a moment of weakness. I want to hear her say that she cares about me or wants to comfort me. It’s insecure and you shouldn’t expect something like that from a woman whose relationship dissolved just a few days ago.
His response is a tired sigh.
You’re failing, Gervais. You sound like a broken record. Get the fuck off.
A cheek twitches at the fact that he resorted to insulting me. There’s something satisfying about little Sloane having a sailor’s mouth. So I approach it, not letting myself think too much about whether it’s a good idea. We are only friends.
I close my eyes as I hear the sheet rustle and the mattress sink under its weight.