19. Jasper
19
JASPER
The bell above the door jingles, and I have to tuck my face against my shoulder to hide my grin. It’s hard not to be impressed with myself right now. I thought for sure she was gonna make me work for it a little more, but I was pretty fucking convincing.
I lean to the right and call out, “You ready to come over to the dark side, baby?”
“Baby?” Hawke chuckles. “Damn, Jagger, you tryin’ to sweet-talk me before 10 a.m.?”
My shoulders tighten in surprise while my lips press together tightly. I shake off the disappointment circling around my neck. So she didn’t immediately turn around and come back to tell me what a brilliant plan this is. I didn’t expect her to.
By my best guess, it’s gonna take my girl three days before she comes back with an answer. She’s going to need some time to accept that it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.
“Nah, man, you know that wasn’t for you.” I offer with a shrug.
He strolls through the garage, his boots thudding against the floor. “No shit, bro. You know, I would’ve paid good money to see her face when you called her baby .”
He leans his ass against the front of her car next to me and crosses his arms over his chest, a devilish grin bright on his face. “But seriously, did she punch you? Threaten your balls? Oh, I know,” he says, snapping his fingers and pointing at me. “She gave you a verbal lashing, didn’t she! She’s too fucking good at that sometimes.”
I let the moment hang in the air, savoring the subtle victory of the day. With deliberate slowness, I slide my gaze over to meet my friend’s. I barely lift my brow. “Don’t you worry about what my girl does for me, yeah?”
He shakes his head with subdued laughter, like he doesn’t understand me. “I hope you know what you’re doing, man. I’d hate to see her eat you alive. Again .”
The reminder isn’t the vibe I’m going for today. I refocus on the mess under her hood. “If you’re here, why don’t you get your ass to work, yeah?”
He pushes off the front of her car, his hands in air. “I’m not really here for a couple hours. I came to find you because there’s some chick at the front gate by Rocks, claims to be your sister or something.”
“Fuck.” I straighten up, wiping my hands on a rag as I hustle across the room.
What the hell is she doing here? And which she is it exactly? I sincerely doubt it’s my oldest half-sister. Lydia’s a year younger than me, which puts dear ol’ dad as a cheating asshole after just a mere two years of marriage to my ma. But I sincerely doubt it’s her. I’ve never talked to her, but the text she sent was pretty cut and dry.
Lydia: I don’t care about the man we share DNA with, and I don’t care about you. No offense. Have a nice life.
That leaves Zoey and Naomi. At twenty-seven and twenty-five respectively, they’ve both texted me a handful of times since we found out.
But my bet’s on Naomi. She’s an . . . aggressive texter.
“Bro, since when do you have a sister?”
“Half-sisters,” I correct.
“As in plural ? You’ve been holding out on me. Not cool, Jagger, not cool.”
I barely spare him a glare as I stride out of the garage, urgency quickening my legs. My mind races with the possibilities of why she would show up out of the blue like this, especially after I didn’t respond to her request to have dinner.
I tip my chin as I approach the front gate. Rocks stands like some kind of marble sentinel, boots planted on the blacktop and arms crossed over his barrel chest. I see the moment he spots me, his shoulders dropping a little bit.
“You’re fuckin’ popular today, Jagger.” It comes out as more of a grunt.
I clap him on the shoulder twice—he doesn’t budge an inch. “You’re a good man, Rocks. Lunch is on me today, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rocks says, turning around and heading back to the security guard house.
“Hi, over here,” the woman standing next to Rocks calls out, waving her hand. “It’s Naomi.”
I shift my attention to her. Recognition hovers over me like a raincloud, thick droplets of understanding and disbelief pooling on my shoulders.
Naomi Bennet.
My half-sister.
Thanks to one little checkbox on an ancestry DNA kit, I discovered I had three half-sisters six months ago. Naturally, I did a little digging. Once I found one of them, it was easy to find the other two.
I spent almost an entire day lost in the rabbit hole of social media. Looking at all the photos they posted, seeing about their lives, and reading about them.
She looks just like her photos. Dark-brown tousled hair and wide brown eyes. Dressed in jean shorts and a plain black tee, she comes up to my shoulder blades. I guess we get our height from our shared parent.
But that’s about the only thing we seem to share.
I didn’t realize that I had some admittedly naive preconceptions about the first time I met my half-sisters. I expected some kind of cosmic identification, like our bodies would just understand that we were siblings.
Instead, it’s the kind of moment you have when you see someone mildly familiar at the grocery store. Their name is just out of bounds, like an itch in the middle of your back. You reach for it, but it always remains elusive. And it’s not until you’re about to fall asleep that you remember their name or how you know them.
“You know, your sister ,” she says, widening her eyes and emphasizing the last word.
“I know who you are. What are you doing here?” I expel a breath and paste my trademark smile on.
She leans forward, putting her weight on her toes in a little bounce. “You didn’t answer my texts about lunch, so I decided to surprise you.”
My tongue presses against the back of my front teeth. “Well, consider me surprised.”
She steps into me without an invitation and wraps her arms around my torso, trapping my arms against my sides. My scalp prickles with discomfort as she holds onto me for a few beats longer than necessary.
I clear my throat and take a step back, forcing her to break her hold on me. “Why are you here?”
She looks up at me with a wide smile, her hand clasping my bicep. “I told you already, silly, you didn’t answer my text.”
I look from her hand to her eyes and back again, a frown creasing my brow. I pull my arm out of her grip and stroll toward the open gate. Something feels weird, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m meeting a sibling I didn’t know existed or something else. “Right. How did you know where I work?”
She laughs like I just told the punchline of a joke. Her steps quicken until she’s next to me. She bumps her shoulder into mine. “On your social media, of course. So, want to spend some time together? I think I saw a diner when I drove through downtown. Are you hungry?”
I glance at her, trying to decipher the layers of her intentions beneath that bright smile. Her easy demeanor feels like a facade, a carefully constructed mask hiding something darker underneath.
But then again, maybe I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she really is just a long-lost sister excited to reconnect.
Except . . . my social media consists of one thing and one thing only: Pudding. My cat is the star of the show, and I’ve never mentioned anything about the Reapers or RGRC.
So at the very least, she did some deeper digging on me. I’m not offended. I did the same shit to her and her sisters after I got the results. But the difference is, I didn’t randomly show up at the Boat House where Naomi waitresses five nights a week.
“Let’s take a walk, yeah? There’s a coffee shop close by.” I offer Rocks a small salute as he watches us from inside the guard house. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text to Hawke.
Me: I’m going to grab coffee. Want anything?
She bumps her shoulder into me again, a wide grin on her face. “Perfect. I love coffee. Then we can grab lunch at that diner, maybe go for ice cream afterward? I thought I saw Rosewood has the cutest little ice cream stand. Or we could grab an afternoon drink instead?”
Hawke: Bro, didn’t you just come from there? Are you sure you’re not trying to hide your shiny new sister from me? I’ll be gentle. Unless she asks me not to be.
“Maybe another time. I gotta get back to work,” I mumble as I type out a reply.
Me: If you’re looking to play out some jealousy fantasy over a woman I share DNA with, I have devastating news.
Hawke: Don’t kill my dream, bro
“Oh, okay. Well maybe tomorrow then? I’m staying at a little bed and breakfast nearby,” Naomi says, her tone hopeful and bright.
I glance at her, my gaze squinting a little. “You’re staying here? In Rosewood?”
“Yes!” She claps her hands once, clasping them under her chin. “Isn’t that wonderful? We can spend every night together and then wake up and do it all over again.”
My mouth feels dry, my tongue heavy. I realize with a jolt that I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say to that.
I stop in front of the Coffee Shop, turning to face her.
“Look—”
“Naomi,” she interrupts.
I arch a brow at her. “Look, Naomi, I appreciate you taking time to come here, but I’ve got a busy week ahead of me. So how about I reach out when I’m free.”
“Don’t worry,” she chirps. “I’ll be here all month long!”
The sun feels like a relentless force, a heavy hand pressing against my spine, urging me to get on with it and get the fuck out of this strange situation. What started out as a familial curiosity has morphed into a bizarre, unsettling reality.
“Why.” It’s not a question. Because what in the actual fuck is going on.
I watch her as something dark flickers across her expression. Lips tighten and eyes narrow.
The air around her seems to swell with emotion, or maybe it’s the fucking humidity.
But as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. Replaced with that overly bright expression.
She laces her fingers together in front of her and rocks onto her toes a few times. “Because you’re my family, silly.”
Chills scatter down my back, a stark contrast to the sun’s rays doing their damnedest to roast me.
I shake my head with a sigh, maintaining eye contact with her the whole time. “Nah, I don’t think so, Naomi. We have the same shitbag dad. That doesn’t make me your anything.”
Her lips flatten into a straight line and her brows dive toward one another in a fierce scowl. Gone is the bright, bubbly persona from a minute ago, and I have a sneaky suspicion that I’m looking at the real Naomi Bennet.
When she doesn’t say anything, I jerk my head toward the road. “Don’t come around here again. I’ll reach out if I want to talk.”
My words sound harsh, but I don’t take them back. I stand by it. And the last thing I need is to have some random woman strolling into my life and taking up all this space when I’m so focused on trying to win my girl back.
I’m so fucking close to it, I can almost taste the victory.
Sweet cherries and vanilla cream.
She doesn’t move, her gaze boring into my chest, right where my heart is. I wonder if she expected this little impromptu visit of hers going very differently.
The sharp edges of suspicion prick at my consciousness as she remains rooted in place.
Ah, so it’s gonna be like that then? Fine by me.
I look her in the eyes and say, “You should go now.” I don’t trust her, so I’m not going to leave until she does.
I swipe open my texts and see a string of messages from Hawke.
Hawke: So it’s a green light then? I can take the almighty Jagger’s sister out and show her a good time?
Hawke: I’m gonna take your silence as a yes.
Hawke: Get your ass back to the garage, brOTHER
Hawke: Get it?
Hawke: Okay, but seriously. Are you coming back soon because Mrs. Shepley just dropped off her car. She swears there’s a squirrel living under the hood and you’re the only one who can fix it for her.
A low chuckle rumbles in my chest and I envision a squirrel running circles around Hawke in the garage. They’d make a fucking mess, but it might be worth it if I could catch it on video.
“Fine,” she says with a huff. She spins on the ball of her foot and storms down the street. I note the make and model of car she climbs into, but she turns around before I can get a good look at the license plate. It’s fine, I don’t really need it anyway. Hawke can find plates in his sleep.
Me: I’ll be right there.
Me: And as for the other thing, I would be careful if I were you. Shit’s fucked up. I’ve never even met Naomi before today.
Hawke: Oh damn. I hung out with a girl named Naomi a couple months ago, and she was fucking wild.
Hawke: And not in the ‘down for anything’ kind of wild I usually like. More like ‘I’m gonna poke holes in your condoms because we’re gonna be together forever’ kind of way. Fastest way to get me to dip in case you were wondering.
Me: I wasn’t.
I drag my hand across my mouth with a shake of my head. I don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking half the time, but that’s part of his charm. Dives into chaos like a moth to a flame.
Naomi’s car disappears around the corner, and I take a moment to center myself before heading back to the garage. I’ve got more important things to worry about than the motivations of a long-lost half-sister.