jasper
Four days after the storm began, Jasper woke to Bennett staring at his phone as if it had personally offended him.
“That’s a familiar expression,” Jasper said.
Bennett startled, then recovered quickly. “I wasn’t staring.”
“You were glaring.” Jasper’s mouth curved. “There is a difference.”
Bennett set the phone down. “Roads are reopening in stages. Flights might resume by tonight.”
Jasper lay still, watching the information land. “That sounded ominous.”
“It is just information,” Bennett said.
“Information you are emotionally attached to,” Jasper said gently.
Bennett sighed. “I am attached to not being stranded indefinitely.”
“Mm,” Jasper said. “And how attached are you to what happened last night?”
Bennett’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. “That,” he said carefully, “is not what I am processing.”
Jasper rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Then what are you processing?”
Bennett hesitated. Jasper waited. He always waited.
“I don’t regret it,” Bennett said finally. “I keep expecting to. I do not.”
Jasper’s chest warmed. “That is good.”
“It is,” Bennett agreed. “It is also inconvenient.”
Jasper smiled. “You say that like those things are mutually exclusive.”
Bennett glanced at him. “They usually are.”
Jasper reached out and brushed his thumb along Bennett’s forearm. The touch was light. Not a claim. Just presence.
“You are allowed to want something even if it complicates your life,” Jasper said.
Bennett huffed quietly. “You say that like it is a rule.”
“It is my rule,” Jasper replied.
Bennett watched their joined hands for a moment, then let his fingers curl slightly, holding on.
“I have a meeting,” Bennett said. “In an hour.”
“Of course you do.”
“It is virtual,” Bennett clarified. “I can take it from the room.”
Jasper nodded. “I will make myself scarce.”
“You do not have to,” Bennett said quickly, then paused. “I mean. If you want to.”
Jasper’s mouth curved. “Look at you. Inviting me to stay.”
