Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Jasper
“You’re making a mistake.”
Stone was probably right. I just didn’t give a shit. I’d fought this all I could. Last night, when I heard that the bartender had asked her out, I had seen red. Full blown jealousy. Following that up with seeing Beulah hurt…that shit had physically pained me. I had wanted to be the one to help her, save her, make her feel better. Me. I wanted her to need me.
“I bought her shoes. She needed them.” I spoke to Stone while getting some cheese from the fridge, last night over and done with.
“She’s still asleep because you told her to sleep. She’s an employee. You’re not treating her like one. You’re blurring the lines, which in my opinion, is a fucking nightmare waiting to happen. It was already brewing, and now you’re speeding that shit up.”
I wasn’t going to do anything to hurt her. After last night, I knew I wouldn’t hurt her because I wouldn’t be able to survive it.
“I’m helping her. She’s hurt, and I’m showing compassion. Get some. It’ll do your cold heart good, and God knows you need fucking help.”
“This isn’t about compassion. It’s about the fact you’re attracted to her. I get that. She’s gorgeous and has the whole ‘damsel in distress, sweet thing’ going for her. You want to save her. Be a fucking hero. It won’t end well, and you don’t need the distraction.”
Too late. I was officially giving in. Thinking about another guy asking her out and touching her made me feel insane. No need to tell him that. It would trigger a ranting lecture, and my ass would be ridden for days. “Are you hungry, Stone? We’ve got some good stuff in here,” I said, changing the subject.
“What the fuck ever,” he replied with frustration. “I can’t save you from yourself. I don’t have the time to try. I’m going to go get the shit done that needs to be done, and then, I need some space from all this. You jump off that cliff if you want to. But while you’re making mistakes, try not to crush her in the meantime. She’s not like the others, which is why you’re so attracted. It’s new. . .different.”
I didn’t respond. Finished what I was doing. When he started to leave, I said, “Stone, I won’t hurt her. Hurting Beulah is the last thing I would do.”
He paused but didn’t look back at me. “You won’t mean to. Sometimes that makes it worse.”
Then he left. Saying nothing else.
I stared at the door leading down to her room. Last night I’d gone to the yellow guest bedroom to think about moving Beulah up there. Near me, in a real bedroom with a decent bathroom and tub. By the time I’d finally fallen asleep, I’d decided it was a good idea. Though now, I was debating it. Was I about to blur the lines or erase them completely? Beulah needed someone to depend on. I wanted to be that someone. I had to be that someone. If any other guy tried, I might kill him.
I had thought I was done with relationships. Maisie had been a terror, every horror a relationship could be. She was exactly like my mother. Selfish, vain, demanding and a cheater, needing men to want her constantly. She was completely fucked in the head. When she’d broken things off, she wanted me to beg and grovel at her feet. I’d felt like throwing a motherfucking party. Being rid of her and a life I didn’t want was the best thing that had happened to me until the present. Beulah had made coming back here bearable. And now, she was in the room.
“I didn’t set my alarm. I slept later than I thought I would.” Beulah’s voice was soft and somewhat husky from sleep. I was deep in thought and hadn’t heard her climb the stairs.
“You needed the rest,” I replied, looking down to see she was wearing the socks I’d brought to her last night. “I got you some new shoes. . .and also socks, just like I promised. Until you go somewhere, only wear the socks. You look good in them.”
She glanced down at her feet and laughed. “Thanks. . .I think. . .I guess.”
“Sit. I’ll fix you something to eat.”
Beulah’s chin snapped level, and she looked at me with wide, wondering eyes. “You can’t fix me food.”
I replied, “I’m the boss. I can do whatever I want. And I want to fix you breakfast. Wait over there.”
The soft smile on her face should have scared me. It should have been a warning. But I wanted it. Wanted her. I didn’t give a fuck about the situation.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she said, crossing the floor to sit on a bar stool and wait.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked, not sure what she liked to eat. I prepared her a plate like mine, hoping that was good enough.
“Yes, thank you, and for the shoes and socks. I should’ve bought some way before now.”
The uniform was Portia’s doing. She should have supplied shoes that fit correctly. Though I didn’t point that out. Not wanting to talk about Portia. She wasn’t here, and for once, I could say I was at peace being home.
“How’s Heidi?” I asked instead.
“Better! I talked to her yesterday. She feels good and was cleared to go to the craft room. That’s all she could talk about. Well, that, and she asked if I could bring cupcakes on Sunday.”
The love in her voice was real. That was what I imagined families should be like. I was an only child, and my parents were never around when I was growing up. My friends all had similar lives. But what Beulah had was what I truly wanted as a kid but never received that unconditional love feeling—the one she got from Heidi and her mother.
“What was your mother like?” I asked before I thought that through. She may not be ready to talk about her mother yet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think before I spoke. You’re. . .well. . .I just thought. . .was wondering. . .if she looked like you?”
She smiled. It was sad but soft. Her eyes held memories I would never know. They were good ones, though. I could tell. And I admit I was envious. Even if she’d had to suffer the pain of that tragic loss, Beulah cherished the time she had.
“She was amazing. I’m not saying that because she’s gone. If she were still here, I’d say the same thing. Momma worked so hard our entire lives but somehow managed to cook family dinners, and we always ate together. When we were old enough to stand on chairs, she let us cook and help clean the dishes. Heidi washed the vegetables and put the noodles on to boil. Momma never pretended she was different. I don’t think Heidi knew she was until she started school. Even though she had to take care of Heidi, Momma made me feel just as special. I don’t know how she managed to do it all alone. I have memories of lemonade popsicles on cloudless, hot summer days. Outside with the sprinkler, and though I don’t think she slept, Momma always had time and a smile. I never once saw her sad. She cried at my high school graduation. But said they were ‘happy tears.’ She was the world’s best mother.”
Beulah’s eyes glowed with love as she spoke. I was almost jealous of her life. Of a mom like that. It explained a lot about her. I’d never met a girl like her because I didn’t know one with a life like Beulah’s.
“She sounds perfect,” I replied.
“She was. . .and thanks for asking. I miss talking about her. I think about her all the time. But I never get to talk about her. I’m afraid it will upset Heidi. She doesn’t understand completely, and Heidi misses her. . . it felt good to remember her. She deserves to be remembered.”
The collected tears that hadn’t fallen in her eyes sat above a wobbly smile. Again, without thinking, I impulsively reacted. I pulled Beulah into my arms and held her tightly, wanting to block out all the things that brought her sadness. She willingly came, her arms wrapped around me, as she laid her head on my chest. Nothing had ever felt this right. The missing piece I was always searching for suddenly clicked into place.