Bennett stared out at it. “I keep expecting the panic to hit.”
“And has it.”
“No,” Bennett admitted. “That is what’s bothering me.”
Jasper smiled softly. “That’s usually how you know.”
Bennett turned toward him. “Know what?”
“That you’re not forcing yourself,” Jasper said. “You’re allowing yourself.”
Bennett swallowed. “I’m not used to that.”
“You’re doing better than you think,” Jasper replied.
Bennett studied him for a moment. “You’re very patient.”
“I am,” Jasper agreed. “But not endlessly.”
Bennett nodded, accepting the honesty. “Fair.”
They headed back inside together, shoulders brushing, not accidental this time.
Back in the room, Bennett paced once before stopping in front of Jasper.
“You said something earlier,” Bennett said.
Jasper looked up from where he had set his coat down. “I say many things.”
“You said you were afraid,” Bennett continued. “About me taking what I want and then deciding I never wanted it.”
Jasper held his gaze. “Yes.”
Bennett’s voice was quiet. “I don’t want to be that person.”
“I know,” Jasper said.
Bennett frowned. “How.”
“Because you stopped,” Jasper replied. “Because you asked for time instead of pretending you didn’t care.”
Bennett looked like that mattered more than he expected.
Jasper stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “I’m in no rush. But I am also not here to be half-chosen.”
Bennett’s throat worked. “I’m not good at halves.”
“I noticed,” Jasper said, smiling faintly.
Bennett hesitated, then said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
Bennett met his eyes. “If we do this. Really do this. What do you expect from me?”
Jasper considered the question seriously. “Honesty. Effort. The willingness to be uncomfortable without shutting down.”
Bennett nodded slowly. “That sounds like a lot.”
