51. Coraline
51
CORALINE
There’s a beat of silence as everyone processes what Jasper just said. I flip one of my hands over and lace our fingers together. It’s dual-purposed: it stops me from brushing that hair from his face and it gives me a way to tell him that I’m okay.
“Nah, this is not what I expected tonight from the infamous Carter family,” Jasper finishes.
Graham and Beau sit back in their chairs in a synchronized movement.
“Our mother welcomed you into her home,” Beau says.
I don’t pull my gaze from Jasper, the need to memorize this moment, to memorize him, pounds against my skull fiercely. Because my brothers are about to start in on him, and I’m quietly praying that he can hold his own against them.
I didn’t bring it up in the car before, but not only have my brothers low-key interrogated anyone I’ve ever dated for far too long, not a single man has ever held strong under their scrutiny. I love my brothers, but they can be real pricks when they want to be.
“She invited you to dinner,” Graham adds. “Does that not live up to the Carter name, Devereaux ?”
Jasper tenses, his left brow twitching. I steal a glance at my brothers, watching the smug expressions on their faces as worry churns in my stomach. This is not at all how I expected tonight to go.
“Boys,” Dad warns.
“C’mon now. You didn’t think we wouldn’t look into you the moment we heard our sister is shacking up with some fucking Reaper ?” Graham drawls.
“Language,” Mom snaps.
Jasper’s mouth twists into a grin. But it’s not a real one, there’s no joy or warmth behind it. It’s empty joviality. “I’m an open book, Graham, so if you want to know something, just ask.”
Mom shifts in her seat. “Cora, maybe you and your guest should?—”
Mason’s phone rings, the shrill tone slicing through the mounting tension. “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, fishing it from his pocket. He takes one look at the screen, his brows collapsing toward one another. “I have to take this.”
“Yes, of course,” Dad says with a wave of his hand.
“Mom? Everything okay?” Mason asks as he scoots back his chair. He stops halfway, poised above his chair like someone’s pressed pause on him. “ What did you just say?” The color leeches from his face.
Beau’s head whips toward his friend, concern tightening his expression.
His mom says something that restarts him, and he pushes to stand straight. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right there. Just—just stay there. I’m on the way.” He ends the call and shuffles his chair forward. He looks between my parents. “Mrs. Carter, Mr. Carter, thank you for dinner. I’m sorry I can’t stay.”
“Of course, dear. No, don’t worry about that,” Mom assures him when he starts to tidy his place setting.
“Everything okay, man?” Beau asks.
Mason’s attention zeroes in on my brother. “I . . . uh, yeah. No. I mean, maybe. That was my ma. Some woman dropped off a baby at her house and said it was mine.”
I don’t know Mason all that well, but judging from the shocked expression my brother has plastered over his face, I’d say this is a wild revelation for him.
“Jesus, man. Want me to come with you?” Beau asks, tossing his napkin on top of his plate.
Mason arches a brow. “Do you know anything about babies?”
Beau grimaces and shakes his head. “I was thinking more along the lines of moral support.”
Mason nods a few times, rounding the table and heading toward the front door. “Thanks, man, I’ll let you know, yeah? I’m just . . . I gotta go. Thanks again, Mrs. Carter.”
Beau’s out of his chair the second the front door closes. “Sorry, Ma, but I gotta head out. I think I should go with him. I don’t know what kind of situation he’s walking into, but I think he’s going to need someone with a clear mind.”
“Yes, of course, honey,” Mom says, standing up. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do for him.”
Beau’s hand lands on my shoulder as he rounds the table. “No hard feelings, right, sis? We were just fucking with you.”
I shrug off his hold and mutter, “Sure.”
“Well, I think we should just call it a night, hm?” Mom says with a forced smile. “Right, honey?”
My dad blinks a few times and nods. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Mom's suggestion to call it a night is all the prompting I need. I squeeze Jasper's hand one last time before rising from my seat, eager to put this disaster of a family dinner behind me.
"Thanks for dinner, Mom," I say, my voice strained. "We should get going."
She nods, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Of course, honey. You two drive safe now. Don’t forget, there’s still a serial killer out there.”
“Not this again, Ma,” Graham says with a groan.
“What?” Mom’s brows crash together as she shrugs. “It’s true, you know. I watch the news.”
We make quick work of our goodbyes, my mom and Graham both offering slightly strained smiles as we head for the door. My dad follows us onto the porch, pulling me into a tight hug.
“I like him, Cora,” he murmurs gruffly in my ear. “I think he could be good for you. And this family.”
Despite the tension of the evening, a small smile tugs at my lips. “Thanks, Dad.”
He releases me with a nod, turning to shake Jasper’s hand. “Jasper. Nice to meet you. Try not to judge my wife too harshly. She’s a worrier, that one, but she means well.”
Jasper returns my dad’s firm handshake. “I appreciate that, sir. And I’m not one to judge.”
Dad’s tanned face creases into a smile. “You’ll take care of my girl now, won’t you?”
"Yes sir, I intend to." Jasper's voice is steady and sure as he meets my father's gaze. Something warm unfurls in my chest at their exchange.
With a final nod, Dad retreats back into the house, leaving Jasper and I alone on the porch.
“You okay, baby?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple.
“Yeah.” I exhale, leaning into him a little as we walk down the driveway. I climb into the truck, and he turns it on, adjusting the air conditioning to high.
“I’m sorry.” I shift in the passenger seat, tucking my left ankle under my right thigh. Jerking my head toward my parents’ house, I mutter, “For in there.”
He reaches across the center console, his hand sinking into the hair at the nape of my neck. He gives it a gentle tug, pulling a little moan from me.
“Stop apologizing, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong.
I worry the side of my lip, glancing over his shoulder and out the driver’s side window. “Still. I’m sorry you had to see that. My family, they’re not bad people.”
His grip tightens, a silent request for my attention. “I know that, Coraline.”
I shake my head, two small movements. Embarrassment wars with gratitude inside of me. “No one has ever done that before. Stood up to my brothers. On my behalf.”
“Happy to oblige you anytime, baby.”
“And I’m sorry you had to see that. See them be so . . . critical . About me.” I glance to the side, avoiding his gaze.
“That wasn’t about you.”
“Me, my food. They’re one in the same.” I cringe inside so hard, it’s a wonder I don’t throw my proverbial back out. I didn’t realize how petulant that sounds until I heard it aloud. I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Just . . . thank you.” I rest my hands against his chest, my fingers splayed wide across his pecs.
“That was about them, you know. They’re vying for your mother’s favor. And the only way they can do that is by taking cheap shots at you.”
His assessment pulls a chuckle from me, but there’s nothing joyful about it. “I don’t think you’re right.”
“Coraline Carter being contrary?” he says with this faux-gasp.
My lips twist involuntarily, a smile threatening.
“Listen to me, baby, because I think you’re having a hard time comprehending something. You’re mine. And I always protect what’s mine, yeah?”
Butterflies take flight inside my stomach. I know he said those things before, when we were really digging into our fake relationship ruse. But it feels different now.
Like maybe he’s saying it because he really means it.
I shift to my knees and lean over the center console, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.
It feels more intimate, real and raw somehow. His words reverberate through me, echoing in the empty spaces I didn't even realize were there.
I pull back before either one of us can get carried away. As much as I’m frustrated with the way the conversation went inside, I still don’t want to be sitting in my parents’ driveway, making out with my boyfriend.
Jasper rests his forehead against mine, his eyes dark and intense as they search my face.
"I mean it, Coraline," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "You're mine now. And I take care of what's mine."
Emotion swells in my chest, threatening to spill over. I’m high on endorphins, the ones that make me feel reckless and wild. The kind of thing that makes me forget all the bad shit that’s hanging over my head. All the uncertainty and low-level fear.
I settle in my seat just as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pluck it out as Jasper reverses down my parents’ ridiculously long driveway.
“Hawke just texted me.” I waggle my phone, showing my screen with five unread texts from Hawke.
Hawke: How’s Sunday dinner
Hawke: To be honest, I’m a little offended you took Jagger and not me. Moms love me.
Hawke: Come to the clubhouse and hang out like we used to
Hawke: Stop ignoring me, Carter
Hawke: Alright, just know you brought this on yourself.
“Hm. let me guess, he’s trying to convince you to go to the clubhouse?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, no chance of that.”
Jasper smirks. “What’s the matter, baby? You afraid you can’t hang with the boys?”
My tongue flattens against the roof of my mouth with a tsk. I settle into the passenger seat, tucking my legs underneath me in crisscross applesauce style. “You’re trying to bait me, but it’s not going to work.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, baby. I’m merely making an observation.”
Self-righteousness straightens my shoulders, and my thumbs fly across my phone screen. Before I can hit send, Jasper snatches my phone away.
“Hey, gimme that back,” I protest, reaching for it.
“Let me help you, baby.” He holds it away from me with his right hand, his left gripping the wheel as we turn the corner out of my parents’ street.
“I don’t need your help with him,” I huff out, rolling my eyes.
He glances at my screen, his lips flattening into an unimpressed scowl. “Fucking Hawke,” he mutters.
“What did he say?” I settle my head in my palm, elbow on the center console. I feel like I should be more bothered by this, him just taking my phone from me. Especially when I know someone is texting me.
But maybe I’m riding high on the serotonin boost of him going to bat for me.
Ringing fills the air a second later, and alarm zings through me. “Who are you calling?”
“Well if it isn’t my favorite Carter,” Hawke says, his voice loud in the truck’s cab.
“What did I tell you about flirting with my girl,” Jasper drawls. He sounds like his usual relaxed self, but his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and clenched jaw tell another story entirely.
Heat pools low in my belly at his possessive tone. I shift a little in my seat, but I don’t sit back.
“Jagger, my man,” Hawke croons.
“You wanna tell me why you’re sending sexy selfies to my girl, Hawke?” Jasper growls.
My brows hit my hairline, and Hawke whistles.
“Damn, bro. So you think I’m sexy?” Hawke taunts.
“That’s what you got out of this?” He grunts.
My brows rise even higher as curiosity lashes across my brow like an itch.
Hawke just laughs. “How’d you get Carter’s phone? Shit, how was Sunday dinner? You comin’ to the clubhouse now or what?”
My brows rise a little bit with every rambled question. I haven’t known Hawke all that long, but I’ve never heard him so amped up before. I fold my lips inward to stifle the laugh.
“Nah, we’ve got other plans,” Jasper says.
I glance at him in surprise. That’s news to me. “We do?” I mouth.
His lips tilt into one of his sinfully delicious smirks. “We’re going to The Alley.”
“Oh hell yeah, man. I’ll meet you there,” Hawke says before hanging up.
Jasper chuckles and drops my phone into my waiting palm. “Feel like going on an adventure, baby?”
With him? “Always.”