I shake my head. What fucking year are we in? I guess I must be from the wrong side of the tracks, because these commercial marriages are not part of my world.
“Is that so, Sloaney?” Robert looks around me, leaning in condescendingly, looking overly amused by his daughter’s distress.
I want to punch him in the face and watch him collapse to the ground. But despite my humble upbringing and being an orphan working in the entertainment industry, I’m not stupid. He’s the kind of jerk who walks into his lawyer’s office and starts crying.
Sloane’s fingers join mine as she steps closer to me, lifting her chin, refusing to flinch.
-You have to go. When I’m ready to talk to you, I will. And my name is Sloane. Not Sloaney.
Robert blinks once and straightens up. He expected her to turn around and show him her belly, not twist her lip.
I am proud of her. How much it has grown in recent months.
The burly man tugs at the lapels of his jacket.
I made a reservation for dinner on Wednesday for your birthday. If you deign to honor us with your presence, it would be lovely to have the birthday girl present.
He turns so easily into a condescending jerk. My teeth grind and my fingers curl tightly around his as my other hand curls into a fist.
“Jasper has a game that night,” he says matter-of-factly.
Robert smiles.
-Alright. You are not invited. Not if you want to keep that job.
Sloane sinks her chin and rolls her shoulders inward. Disappointment paints every crevice of his body, but he doesn’t respond.
He’s almost out the door when he turns and delivers his killing blow.
“Think about it, Sloane. If you are going to be the owner of your own destiny or whatever this new stage is, you have to consider some things. Do you want to be the reason Jasper Gervais goes back to where he came from? It’s a long road for a man like him to fall.
He then slams his fingers on the doorframe and strides away like he owns the fucking place.
Cordelia’s haunted eyes are a shot straight to the chest. The pleading look with which he looks at me is heavy and uncomfortable.
Almost as uncomfortable as the silence that descends on Sloane and me after that conversation.
I want to tell her that I love her. The words practically burn the tip of my tongue as I hold them back. But it’s not enough. Or maybe too much.
Of course, I love her. I have always loved her. But this? Now? I love her in a very different way than I have ever loved anyone else in my life.
A truck, a hotel, a snow-covered lane, it doesn’t matter: she’s home. She is the air I breathe and that terrifies me.
Because no matter how fiercely I love someone, I know they always leave.
3. 4
Sloane
Dad: 7 pm Wednesday at The Frontier. Make the smart decision.
Sloane: Smart for me? Or smart for you?
We walked in a tense silence, holding hands. I don’t think I let go of Jasper’s hand for more than a few seconds.
And he was the one who extended his hand to me. Always.
After years of reaching out to him, he is giving it back to me. I don’t know if holding his hand is the smartest thing to do.
I went from being elated and horny, filled with all the mushy feelings, to worrying that my love might ruin this man’s life.
My father has pulled the blanket so hard that I am collapsing. I’m Alice in the fucking rabbit hole of Wonderland, where nothing makes sense.
Except nothing about this situation is charming or quirky.
We stop in front of the small bungalow that has cost me the most to update. The one where we’ve been playing house. The one he bought just to give my dad a solid fuck you. And now I see why.
I feel stunned, seeing the house in a new light. It felt like we were making a home here. We have made an effort to make love in every room. I’ve put a wreath on the front door and twined Christmas lights around the patio railings.
My father has managed to tarnish even this for me. Chestnut Springs. Jasper. My love life. I sink back into that cold bath of realizing that I have been the perfect pawn and I haven’t been smart enough to realize it.
“I have to get back to town soon to train in the morning,” Jasper says.
I nod.
When he asked me where I wanted to be, I said, Take me to Chestnut Springs . I had no desire to stay in the same city as my father.
-Are you OK? His warm fingers squeeze mine, throbbing like a heartbeat.
Jasper has always been my heartbeat, and I still wonder if I’m his. If he feels this as intensely as I do.
If he loves me.
He hasn’t said the words and neither have I. In some ways, we have felt tenuous, too unstable. Fragile, like a stack of slightly twisted blocks. One brief rumble and everything could collapse. We both have shit we haven’t been brave enough to face. We’ve had our heads in the sand.
Could he love me if it meant losing his career, his passion? It’s the only thing he’s worked so hard for. He overcame everything for it.
“No,” I whisper. I’m not.
“I’m sorry, Sunny.
-Yeah. -I sigh shakily and finally turn to look at Jasper. His piercing midnight eyes analyze me under his furrowed brows. He looks so damn handsome in his expensive suit. He is a man of contradictions. Rough and polished. Hot and cold. Soft and hard. Happy and sad. Broken and repaired.
A patchwork quilt that I love to snuggle with.
Just looking at it makes my fucking chest break. It could give you the freedom to keep everything you’ve worked so hard for. Although it would destroy me to do so.
But I’d rather hurt myself.
I’d rather have a Jasper-shaped hole in my chest than drag him out of the little piece of happiness he’s carved out for himself just so I can keep it. This life has been so unfair to him in so many ways. And again.
I don’t want to be anything else unfair to him by taking more than he can reasonably give to someone.
“Sunny…” He turns in his seat and brushes my cheek with his calloused fingers. Why are you crying?
My free hand lurches to my face and comes out wet. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I stare at the water glistening on my hand and remember the day of my almost wedding, when I saw that little drop of blood on my hand.
Jasper’s hand caresses my cheek and his fingertips run over the back of my neck.
“I don’t want to be the reason you walk away from your family. I don’t want to make you choose. Because I know how much it hurts to lose your family, no matter how terrible it is. I don’t want to tell you what to do. It’s not about me. I just want you to be happy. Go to dinner. Fix your fences, burn your bridges. Whatever you need to do. I’ll go to my game. I don’t mind. His thumb brushes my cheek and his voice cracks. Just tell me how to make you happy.
“I don’t want it to ruin your career.” I huff, clearing my throat as I look into the eyes that have held me captive for eighteen years.
Shake your head.
-It will not.
“He said he would.”
-Can not.
“You don’t know that!” My whispers turn into an agitated scream. You don’t know the power it has. The connections. I’ve seen him my whole life and somehow never judged the way he wields that power. I have been so stupid. So blind.