29. Jasper
29
JASPER
I t’s been three days since the accident.
Three days since I pulled her limp, bloodied body from that car.
And I haven’t slept.
Not for more than a minute or two, anyway. Every time I close my eyes, I see the horror again. The twisted metal. The blood. The way her head lolled against my chest as I carried her out of that wreckage. The way her fingers twitched once and then stopped.
The worst fucking moment of my life.
I sit in the armchair beside our bed, elbows braced on my knees, hands clasped tightly. The low hum of her IV pump is the only sound in the room besides the soft, shallow rhythm of her breathing.
She’s been sleeping soundly pretty much since the accident, thanks to the pain killers our doctor put in her IV. She’s finally starting to heal.
But I can’t.
I can’t stop seeing it. Feeling it.
“Daddy?”
Her voice is a rasp in the dark, barely audible, but it cuts through the haze in my head like a blade in the same way it’s done every time she’s woken up.
I sit up straight, instantly leaning toward her. “I’m here, baby,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”
She blinks slowly, her lashes fluttering like she’s still half-dreaming. “Will you come lie with me?”
I hesitate. She’s still so bruised, her ribs tender, her arms wrapped in gauze. The thought of hurting her by accident makes my chest twist.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” she whispers back, reaching her hand toward me. “I need you, Daddy. Please.”
Fuck.
I rise slowly, toe off my boots, and ease onto the bed, careful not to jostle her. The moment I stretch out beside her, she scoots closer, then melts against me, tucking her head under my chin.
My arms wrap around her automatically.
She fits there like she always has. Like this is the only place we’ve ever belonged.
“I’m never letting you go,” I say against her hair, voice thick with everything I haven’t let myself feel. “Not again. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you, baby. I should’ve?—”
She cuts me off with a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around my shirt.
“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs. “Please don’t do that. The only person to blame is him.”
I don’t answer right away. I just hold her tighter and tuck her even closer.
“What happened to him?” she asks after a beat, sounding soft and small.
I stiffen slightly.
She feels it.
“Did he… die in the crash?”
I pull back just enough to look down at her, her wide eyes searching mine in the dim light.
“No,” I say coldly. I don’t flinch. I don’t soften. “He didn’t die in the crash, baby.”
Her lips part, and something flickers in her eyes—relief, maybe. Or understanding.
I don’t give her the details. Not yet. Maybe not ever. They don’t matter. That asshole and all his friends are dead.
She nods slowly, resting her head against my chest, her voice barely audible now. “Good.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head, my heart thudding steady and fierce beneath her ear.
“I love you,” I whisper, because she needs to hear it again and because I need to say it more than I need to breathe.
She sniffles, curling closer. “I love you, too.”
And finally, for the first time in three days, I close my eyes.
And I sleep.
* * *
A riana’s healing, but slowly. And painfully.
She hates it.
She hates the way her ribs ache when she tries to sit up, hates the dull throb in her head that won’t go away. Hates being confined to bed, needing help with everything. But I don’t give her a choice. Not when it comes to her health.
She’s my responsibility. And I don’t half-ass anything I claim as mine.
Every day, I wake up before she does. I check her IV fluids, make sure her bottle is full, and prep something soft and warm for her to eat. When she stirs, I help her sit up against the pillows, coax her through a few sips of water, then spoon-feed her oatmeal or soup. Whatever her stomach can handle that day.
She grumbles through most of it.
“I can feed myself,” she pouts, her voice raspy and petulant.
“Yeah, but you can just let your Daddy take care of you because it makes me feel better.”
She scowls but opens her mouth.
“Good girl.”
I keep her clean, dry, and padded. As much as she blushed the first time I diapered her while she was half-conscious, she doesn’t fight me on it anymore. She knows I mean what I say—that she needs rest. No stairs, no pushing herself, no stress.
But the restlessness has been creeping in. I see it in her fidgeting fingers, her twitching feet under the blankets, the way her eyes flick toward the window and linger on the laughter coming from the yard.
Today, she finally wears me down.
“I’ll be good,” she promises in a soft voice. “Just a little while. Please, Daddy. I miss them.”
And fuck, I’m weak for her when she looks at me like that.
I change her again, wrap her up warm, and carry her to the main house playroom where Rowie and Ember are already building some kind of stuffed animal kingdom on the carpet. The second they see her, they squeal with excitement, and I swear I see some of the grayness lift from her skin.
I settle into the oversized armchair in the corner while she plays. I stay close. Always close.
She lights up around them, chuckling softly, leaning on a pillow as she crawls carefully across the rug. Rowie hands her a plush bunny with a crown on its head, and Ariana beams like she’s been handed a real crown.
She belongs here.
She always did.
And she’s never leaving.
I recline in the chair, arms crossed, watching the way she tucks her hair behind her ear and giggles at whatever Ember just whispered. I should feel relaxed.
But I’m not.
My jaw tenses as I remember that bastard’s face. The blood on Ariana’s temple. The way I almost lost her.
I don’t regret what I did.
Not for a second.
I’d kill him again. Slower, if I had the time.
And I’d do worse to anyone who tries to touch her again.
Because she’s mine.
And one day soon, I’m going to make sure it’s more than just a word. I’m going to put a ring on her finger, change her name, and lock her into forever with me.
Not because she needs it.
But because I do.
She yawns, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, and I’m already on my feet. I scoop her up gently, “That’s enough for today, baby.”
“Nooo,” she whines, though her head immediately rests on my shoulder. “I wasn’t done playing…”
“You were falling asleep on your princess bunny,” I tease, carrying her out of the room as Rowie and Ember wave their goodbyes.
Back home, I lay her on the bed, strip her out of her clothes, and change her quickly and carefully. She’s too tired to be shy now, her thumb slipping into her mouth as I pull the covers up, leaving her in only a diaper, and brush the hair from her forehead.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper.
Her lashes flutter. “Mmmkay…”
And then she’s out.
I watch her for a moment before I slip out of the room and call Rylan.
He answers almost immediately. “Ariana okay?”
“She will be,” I say. “But I’ve got an idea. And I need your help.”
“What kind of idea?”
I smile to myself. “The kind that ends in a ring.”