Chapter 41 #2
There was no hesitation in it, and there shouldn’t have been. Jasper had a life in Nebraska. A real one. The Silver Shadows weren’t a group of men he visited on weekends. They were his family. His landscaping business was there. His responsibilities were there.
Of course he wasn’t leaving.
Oddly, the certainty didn’t disappoint me.
Instead, another question took its place.
Jasper: Why?
Me: Just wondering.
Jasper: About Diamond Creek?
Me: About things.
Jasper: Very specific.
Me: I’m trying not to be.
Jasper: I noticed.
I pressed my lips together to contain my smile.
Jasper: You ever think about living somewhere besides Virginia?
There it was. I should’ve expected him to turn the question around.
Me: Sometimes.
Jasper: Anywhere particular?
Me: Somewhere without Virginia humidity would be nice.
Jasper: Nebraska is a dry heat.
I laughed.
Me: You have tornadoes.
Jasper: Virginia has hurricanes.
Me: You have blizzards.
Jasper: You have mountains people can fall off.
Me: I don’t live on the mountain
Jasper: Still hate that fucking mountain.
Me: You also have bikers.
Jasper: Better bikers.
Me: Debatable.
Jasper: Better enough to kiss.
Heat crept into my cheeks even though nobody in the room could see what he’d written.
Me: He was okay.
Jasper: Okay?
Me: Acceptable.
Jasper: That isn’t what your hands said.
I shifted on the couch.
Me: My hands didn’t say anything.
Jasper: They were very enthusiastic communicators.
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing loud enough for Granny to start asking questions again.
Me: You’re ridiculous.
Jasper: You liked it.
Me: Maybe.
Jasper: There she is.
The flirting had changed after our kiss. Before, Jasper could say almost anything, and I could hide behind the possibility that he was simply being Romeo. That this was what he did with women.
That excuse didn’t work anymore.
I knew what his mouth felt like against mine.
More importantly, I knew what it had cost him to stop.
Me: We were discussing Nebraska.
Jasper: Were we? I liked where this went better.
Me: Answer the question.
Jasper: What question?
Me: I hate you.
Jasper: No, you don’t.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard. He’d said that before. Usually, I rolled my eyes or told him he was too confident.
Me: No, I don’t.
A few seconds passed before another message appeared.
Jasper: Could you live somewhere that cold?
I stared at the question.
Not would you move to Nebraska.
Not would you move for me.
Just cold.
Safe enough to answer.
Me: Depends.
Jasper: On?
Me: There would need to be benefits.
Jasper: Like?
Me: A really warm house.
Jasper: Easy.
Me: Fireplace.
Jasper: Already in the library.
Me: Heated seats in my car.
Jasper: Spoiled.
Me: I’m from Virginia. Your weather is unreasonable.
Jasper: Anything else?
I thought for a second.
Me: Someone who knows how to drive in snow.
His answer came instantly.
Jasper: I know a guy.
Me: Is he annoying?
Jasper: Extremely.
Me: That sounds unfortunate.
Jasper: Handsome though.
Me: According to him.
Jasper: And you.
My eyes narrowed at the screen.
Me: I never said that.
Jasper: Cher, I have eyes.
Me: So do I. That doesn’t mean I told you.
Jasper: Your face did.
Me: You’re awfully sure of yourself for a man fifteen hundred miles away.
Jasper: You want me closer?
The question wiped the smile from my face, but not because I disliked it.
I glanced at Granny again. She’d fallen asleep in her chair, chin tipped toward her chest while the television continued transforming the old house without her supervision.
My attention returned to the phone.
Me: You know I do.
There, I’d said it.
No joke.
No emoji to soften it.
Jasper took almost a full minute to answer.
Jasper: Yeah, Cher. I do.
Something warm settled beneath my ribs.
I looked at the words until the screen dimmed, then touched it again.
Me: So, this hypothetical Nebraska house...
Jasper: Our imaginary architect is back.
Me: Does it have enough room for all my books?
Jasper: Every damn one.
Me: You don’t know how many I have.
Jasper: I own a landscaping company. I can build another room.
Me: That’s not how landscaping works
Jasper: Details.
Me: And the porch?
Jasper: Two of them. You were very demanding about that.
Me: Just checking.
Jasper: Anything else, Ma Belle?
I hesitated.
There were a hundred answers I could’ve given him. Most of them felt too large to put into words.
So I chose one that wasn’t.
Me: A porch light.
His response took longer this time.
Jasper: Porch light?
Me: Granny always leaves it on when she knows I’m coming home late.
I glanced toward the front window. The light still glowed outside, illuminating the steps and the walkway even though I hadn’t left the house all evening.
Me: I like knowing someone expects me back.
Jasper: Then the porch light always stays on.
My throat tightened.
No joke followed it. No teasing about electricity bills or me being spoiled.
Just that.
I rubbed my thumb slowly along the edge of my phone.
Me: Good.
Jasper: Good?
Me: Yes.
Jasper: That sounded dangerously close to approval.
Me: Don’t ruin it.
Jasper: Wouldn’t dream of it.
I smiled.
Me: Goodnight, Jasper.
Jasper: Dors bien, Ma Belle.
I started to set the phone down when it buzzed one last time.
Jasper: And, Fiona?
Me: Yes?
Jasper: Nebraska isn’t that bad.
I laughed quietly.
Me: Keep telling yourself that.
Jasper: I’ll prove it someday.
I didn’t answer.
Not because I didn’t know what to say.
Because I did.
I slipped the phone into my lap and looked toward the television. Granny had slept through the final reveal of the renovated house, including the missing wall she’d been so offended by twenty minutes earlier.
I reached for the remote and turned down the volume before gently pulling the afghan from the back of the couch and draping it over her.
Then I went upstairs.
My bedroom was cool, and the window over my desk had fogged slightly at the corners. I changed into pajamas, plugged in my phone, and climbed beneath the blankets.
For several minutes, I stared at the ceiling.
Then I reached for the phone again.
I opened the weather app.
Rosewood sat at the top, followed by Richmond from the last time Josie and I had gone shopping.
My thumb moved to the search bar.
Diamond Creek, Nebraska.
I added it to the list.
Thirty-eight degrees.
I stared at the number and shook my head.
“Unreasonable.”
But I left it there.