Mara and Jordyn’s mother have been nothing but hospitable. I suspect that’s their nature. But her father and brother have been aloof. They know I’ve hurt Jordyn and are probably only tolerating my presence out of respect for her wishes. I sense if they had their way, I’d be tossed out on my ass. And they don’t even know the worst of it—neither does Jordyn.
It pains me to keep my distance when all I want to do is touch her and kiss her and love her.
The fear I felt in the moments before finding Jordyn safe and sound made me face what I had known all along—she is all the thoughts in my head, the beats in my heart, the pores in my skin.
Jordyn is everything.
It’s then that she looks over, and her eyes find mine. In the glow of the lamplight, they’re soft brown with flecks of moss green and tawny gold. If this were a movie, it would be one of those sappy moments of eyes locking across the room. Only it’s not sappy. It’s real and poignant.
Her throat rolls on a swallow. I’ve always been good at hiding behind a stony façade. But Jordyn sees through it to the stripped-down and raw emotions that lay bare inside of me.
“Could I have a minute alone with Stiles?”
“Of course, honey.” Her mother kisses her forehead, and something private passes between them before she ushers the others into the kitchen. At the threshold, her father spears me with a warning glance that I read loud and clear.
Jordyn pats a spot on the couch. “Come sit with me.”
I walk over and take the place her mother had vacated. “How are you feeling?”
“Shocked, mostly.” She licks at her split lip clotted with dried blood. “I can’t believe what happened. I’ve never been so scared and angry at the same time.”
“You were smart and saved yourself. Russo’s going to be talking in a high pitch for a long while.”
She manages a brief smile and then winces, touching her cheek. “The asshole actually hit me. I’ve known him for a year, and not once did I witness a temper, let alone a violent streak. Was I blinded to the signs, or was he just that good at covering them?”
Those are the same questions I still ask myself to paralyzing effect. I don’t want that for Jordyn. “Sometimes, there are no obvious signs. A person can seem completely together, then there’s a trigger, and all the cracks and fissures appear beneath the delicate surface. You couldn’t have known. I should have asked more questions about your previous relationships to put Russo on the radar.”
“Don’t, Jasper.” She takes my hand and threads our fingers. “You are not to blame for this. I was set on Talon. You did everything you could. I should have told you about Eduardo. Please don’t put that burden on yourself.”
I open my mouth in protest but stifle the words. She’s been through enough; my conscience is not her problem.
“Tonight,” she says quietly, “made me realize how fragile and precarious life can be. It can turn in a blink.”
I nod at the truth of that.
“When I saw you running toward me, want to hear what my first thought was?”
“What?”
“That I was truly safe. That you had me. That no matter what, you’d be there for me.”
“Jordyn.” My voice cracks, and I run my fingers gingerly over her cheek and jaw. “I wasn’t there soon enough.”
“You were. I got myself out of that situation, but I still needed you, and you were there. You’re still here, fighting yourself, struggling through your conflict. But you’re here. I see that.” She brackets my face between her hands. “I love you, Jasper.”
My heart, as if dry soil, greedily drinks in her words. I cover her hands with my palms. “I want that so much. I do.”
“I know.” Tears shine in her eyes. “But as long as you hold onto your guilt, you’ll never be free to love me back or to let me love you. And that’s what hurts the most, Jasper. The loss of all we could be.”
THE MOUNTAINS APPEAR AS MY flight makes its descent onto the DEN tarmac. I rent an SUV for the roominess I don’t find in sedans and take the I-70 out of the Denver International Airport. I flip down the sun visor to cut the glare of the morning rays and slide on my Oakleys.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to do after I left Jordyn. But I’d thought of nothing else for the last two nights, barely sleeping, hardly eating. I couldn’t even find any temporary solace at the dojo or on the open road, riding my bike.
Done thinking, I booked the first flight out this morning. I hadn’t told Pops or Jordyn. I wasn’t going to set any expectations when I still had no idea how this would turn out. I hadn’t made my parents aware either. I’m not up for that visit this trip. I love them, and I know they love me in their own way. I just could never compete with the misery of their marriage.
My role had always been playing the middle man in their drama, the referee for their verbal sparring, the Switzerland for their complaints about each other. Our house was not a home; it was a battlefield. Pops encouraged my mother to leave countless times, but she wouldn’t. And my father wouldn’t either. It’s as if they were addicted to the toxicity, drunk on the poison of loving to hate each other.
I’m sure, in some ways, it tainted my view of relationships. I didn’t date much. My few encounters were brief and purely sexual…until Lilah. She let me know from the jump that she was a commitment kind of girl. I liked that about her. I liked that she didn’t let me take the easy way out. I liked that she came from a nice, stable family. I liked that they treated me as a son. I’d craved that inclusion and sense of belonging, a place where there wasn’t screaming and vicious insults—where it was just normal.
