63. Jasper
63
JASPER
The sound of the gunshot cracks through the night air like a thunderclap, reverberating in my ears. For a split second, the world seems to go silent and still.
Lawson staggers back a step, his face contorting in shock and pain as he falls to his knees. The gun slips from his fingers, clattering to the asphalt. His mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he crumples over in a heap.
I whirl around to face Coraline, my heart in my throat. She stands frozen, the gun still clutched tight in her grip. I palm the top of the gun, pushing it down, and murmuring, “It’s alright, baby. You’re alright.”
She blinks, shifting those gorgeous blue eyes I love so much toward me. They’re too wide, the whites of her eyes bright against her paling complexion. “Jasper? What-what did I . . .”
“Shh, it’s alright. Let me have the gun, yeah?” I apply a little more pressure, and she lets go of the gun so fast, like it burned her.
She swipes her tongue along her bottom lip. “Did I, uh—oh my god. Is he dead?” she whispers, her voice shaky.
God willing , I think. Not because I want that burden on her soul, but because that means we won’t have to worry about this piece of shit ever again.
“Stay here, yeah?” I wait for her nod before I stalk toward his prone form in the middle of the road. I pull out my phone from my back pocket, keeping my gaze on him. I don’t fucking trust him not to pull some shit as a hail mary.
I hit Nova’s contact, and he answers on the second ring. “You good?”
“I need a cleanup crew,” I murmur.
He sighs. “Fuck, okay. And Cora? You better tell me somethin’ good, or I’m gonna make you deliver the bad news to my wife.”
“She’s alright. From what I can tell, a little banged up but otherwise okay. Haven’t had a chance to check yet.”
“Alright, that’s good, man. That’s real good. Where are you? I’ll send someone right away.”
I hesitate, standing over Lawson, my gaze darting to the blood starting to pool underneath him. I can’t tell where it originated from. “Magnolia Lane. The road, not the house.”
“The fuckin’ road, man? Goddamnit.”
“Jasper,” Coraline shouts, her tone high and urgent.
I twist toward her, just in time to see Lawson’s arm raised, his gun pointed at my fucking face. Time seems to slow, stretching like taffy from one heartbeat to the next.
“You think you’ve won, Reaper?” he spits, chaos glinting in his eyes and blood darkening his grin. “She’s mine. You’ll never take her from?—”
I lift my arm and pull the trigger, silencing his madness.
The gunshot echoes through the night, a sharp crack that seems to hang in the air. Lawson’s body jerks, his head snapping back, and then he’s still, his arm falling limply to the ground.
I kick his gun out of his reach and lower mine, my heart pounding in my chest. Nova’s voice is still coming through the phone, urgent and demanding, but I can’t make out the words. All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears and Coraline’s ragged breathing behind me.
I let out a slow breath, lowering my own gun. "Nova, you still there?"
"Yeah, I heard. Cleanup crew is on the way. ETA is five minutes."
“Thanks.” I end the call and slip the phone back into my pocket, my gaze still fixed on Lawson’s body.
There’s inherent sadness to death. Even when it’s someone like Lawson who caused so much pain and chaos. A life snuffed out, potential forever lost, no matter how twisted that potential might have been.
But mostly, I just feel an overwhelming sense of fucking relief. That it’s over, that she’s safe, that she’s fucking standing next to me, where she belongs.
“Jasper!” She runs toward me, throwing herself into my arms and burying her face against my chest. She pulls back quickly, running her hands all over me frantically. “Are you okay? Are you shot? Did you get hurt?”
“Hey, hey, I’m alright, baby. Don’t worry about me.” I try to soothe her panic, but I’m riding my own wave of worry and I don’t know how the fuck to get down.
“But I am worried about you,” she murmurs, her voice warbling a little. “You were right there and he was pointing a gun at your head , Jasper. I-I . . .” She shakes her head, cutting herself off.
I nudge her hands to my chest, one right over my heart. “I’m fine. But you’re the one bleeding.” My eyes widen as I take in the state of her wrists. Angry red welts encircle the delicate skin, deep gouges marring the flesh. Gashes and cuts in her palms, blood trickling from the wounds and painting macabre lines down her forearms.
“Jesus Christ, baby,” I breathe, my chest constricting. My fingers ghost over the injuries, feather-light and trembling. “What the fuck did he do to you?”
Coraline swallows hard, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She shakes her head, her hair sticking to her sweaty neck. “He didn’t really do anything, outside of drugging me. I mean, he zip tied my wrists, but most of this I did to myself with Nana Jo’s old metal nail file trying to get out of them.”
“You did a good job, baby,” I praise her softly. I ghost my lips over the inside of her wrists, finding the tiniest patch of blood-free skin.
“I’m sorry I said that I didn’t want to be yours,” she rushes out, like the words have been trying to get out and she finally let them.
I cup her face with my hands, thumbs brushing away the tears that have started to fall. “Hey, shh, we don’t need to do this right now, baby. It’s okay.”
Coraline shakes her head vehemently, her hands coming up to grip my wrists. “No, Jasper, it’s not okay. I need to say this. You need to know how sorry I am that I said that. How sorry I am that I’m—I’m the reason we didn’t work out before.”
“I shouldn’t have said it—I-I didn’t mean it.” Her voice breaks, and her blue eyes bore into mine, swirling with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Desperation, regret. Love .
I feel a tug in my chest, a sharp pain that mirrored the heartache in her voice. It was as if her emotions were physically hitting me, causing tangible pain.
Tears stream down Coraline's face as she clutches my wrists, her delicate fingers pressing into my skin. Even now, even after everything she's been through tonight, her touch ignites a spark deep inside me.
A flicker of hope, of promise, of a future I never dared to dream of until her.
“I was so stupid, Jasper,” she whispers, swallowing hard. “I let my own insecurities and fears drive me away from you two years ago. And I don’t want to make that mistake again.”
“I wasn’t ready for you then,” I murmur.
She looks up at me, hope and vulnerability swirling around in her dark blue eyes. “And now? Are you ready for me now?”
“Baby,” I murmur, my voice rough with emotion. I brush my thumbs over her cheekbones, wiping away the tearful tracks. “You already know the answer to that.”
“I need your words.” She sniffs, a small smile tugging up the corner of her mouth.
I know it’s because she’s parroting the words I’ve said to her countless times, though usually under different circumstances.
I tilt her face upward. “You’ve always been mine, Coraline Carter. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
She pushes onto her toes, her mouth hovering over mine. “I want to be. God, do I want to be yours. I love you, Jasper. I don’t know how or when, but I need you to know that I love you so goddamn much.” Tears roll down her face in a steady stream.
My heart swells at her declaration, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I crush my mouth to hers in a kiss filled with months of longing, years of unspoken feelings finally actualized. She returns the kiss with equal fervor, her fingers sliding into my hair and tugging me closer.
When we finally break apart, both breathing heavily, I rest my forehead against hers. “I love you too, Coraline. I think I always have.” The words tumble out, raw and honest in a way I’ve never been before. But with her, it’s easy.
The sound of approaching vehicles breaks us apart. I lift my head to see a black SUV and a couple motorcycles pulling up, their headlights illuminating the dark road.
“Cleanup is here,” I murmur, relief mixing with the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Coraline tenses in my arms, and I rub a soothing hand down her back. “Let’s go home, baby.”
“I have so many questions,” she mumbles, eyes closed.
A low laugh tumbles out of me, because of course she does. I slide my palm along her abdomen, pressing her against me tighter.
After I touched base with the cleanup crew and the Rosewood cop, I put my girl on the back of my bike and brought her home. Her hands started trembling halfway through the ride, her adrenaline crashing hard. But she stayed with me the whole time, like the secret badass she is.
She didn’t blink when I swept the house to make sure it was clear. Or when I asked her to shower with the door cracked open. Or when I dressed her head-to-toe in my clothes. Or when I put her on the counter and meticulously cleaned her cuts and checked every inch of her to make sure she was okay. Or when I followed her around, herding her into bed like some kind smothering boyfriend.
She just watched me with that heartbreakingly patient expression on her face. And I think maybe it made me love her a little bit more for it.
“Alright, baby. You get three questions tonight. The rest in the morning.”
“Technically, it’s the morning. If it was a work day, my alarm would be going off in a half hour.”
The mouth on her, I swear to god. I remind my dick now is not the time to get turned on by her sass. “I don’t hear a question,” I tease her.
She rolls over so she’s facing me. “How did you find me?”
“I’ll always find you, Coraline,” I vow.
“And I love that, I do, but I don’t understand what happened between when I left here and now. Sorry again about catnapping Pudding, but he seems fine, right?” she says with a wince. “He’s not traumatized, is he?”
I glance at my fluffy ball of cat on his little igloo bed in front of the window. He’s curled into his preferred sleeping position: a donut.
“He’s fine, baby,” I reassure her, brushing a loose piece of hair off her face. “You can hear him purring.”
A soft smile flits across her face. “He sounds like a little baby motorcycle.” Her gaze slides to mine and she swallows hard. “Am I going to go to jail? I shot someone today.”
I tsk lightly. “Baby, you shot a will-be-confirmed serial killer in self-defense in Rosewood. They’ll probably give you a sash or something at the annual summer festival.”
She flicks me with the back of her hand. “They will not. But,” she says, pausing to sigh. “I’m still worried. I think I won’t feel better until we talk to the sheriff tomorrow.”
I trail my fingers along her jawline, my touch gentle as I meet her worried gaze. “Which is why we need to go to sleep. We have a long couple of days ahead of us.”
“But I’m not—” She yawns, cutting herself off. “Tired.”
My lips twitch in amusement. "Sure you're not," I tease her gently.
Her eyelids are already drooping, but she stubbornly tries to blink away the sleepiness. “I’m really not,” she insists, even as another yawn escapes her. “I have more questions.”
I pull her closer, tucking her head under my chin and tangling our legs together. “Humor me, baby.”
She grumbles something unintelligible but snuggles into my chest. I watch the ceiling fan twirl around and around, listening to the sound of her breaths evening out. I feel the moment she gives in and sleep claims her, her body relaxing further.
Despite the harrowing events of the day, a sense of peace washes over me, knowing she’s safe in my arms. I press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo.
My own eyelids grow heavy, but my mind remains alert, replaying every moment that led us here. I think back to the moment I found her on that dark road, desperate and bleeding but still fighting. Pride swells in my chest at the memory. My brave, beautiful girl. She saved herself today, fought like hell to get back to me. To us.
And I’ll spend the rest of my life loving her for it.