Chapter 20
Twenty
Harvest Moon — Neil Young
TWO WEEKS LATER
“ W hat the fuck ?” A loud ringing had barged into my consciousness. It wasn’t my ringtone or alarm, sounds that my body was accustomed to.
It was a grating sound, one that instantly pissed me off.
“Is there a tsunami coming?” I groaned as Elliot shifted his body in the direction of the jarring tone.
“Because that’s the only answer I’ll accept for something so offensive at…
” I scrambled for my own device, now free from Elliot’s embrace.
I squinted at my phone. “At 5:00 in the morning.” I ignored the multiple texts and emails, slamming the phone back down on the side table with a clatter.
I’d assumed Elliot would do whatever was needed to stop the noise, then once he had done that, he’d bring me back into the warm, comfortable cocoon of his arms. I couldn’t sleep without it, without him, these days.
But instead, Elliot got out of bed. His behavior so confusing, it took me a second to process it as he turned on the bathroom light so he could put on his clothing.
At first, I was worried there was some kind of family emergency, something to do with Clara. My stomach curdled in dread. Elliot was moving quickly, in a rush. But a glimpse at Elliot’s relaxed face had me at least secure in knowing it wasn’t something terrible.
“What the fuck is going on?” I propped myself up on my elbows.
Elliot looked up at me, a tender expression on his handsome face. “Go back to sleep, Calliope. Sorry to wake you.” He said it as if I would just go back to sleep passively, asking no questions. As if he didn’t know me at all.
And he knew, despite the ungodly hour, once I was awake, I was awake.
“What, you’ve got another girlfriend or something?” My tone was light, joking, trying to sound like I didn’t care. But I did. Care. Very much. In fact, if that was a woman, I might have had the urge to go set her house on fire.
Elliot chuckled. “No, babe. I require every single one of my wits ready and available for just you.” He hurriedly put on his jeans. “I’m a volunteer firefighter.”
I sunk back onto the bed. So if I were to set some innocent woman’s house on fire, then Elliot would be rushing to save the day.
Figures.
“Volunteer?” I repeated. “As in you don’t get paid?”
Elliot snatched his shirt, putting it on with the same urgency as before. Not exactly a panicked hurry, but he was definitely hustling.
“That’s the idea of being a volunteer.”
I inspected my nails now that he was putting a shirt on and the good stuff was no longer on display. And to distract myself from thinking about how the good stuff was really his twinkling eyes, the upturn of his lips, and the rogue curl that always fell over his eyebrows.
“Cannot imagine volunteering my time to do any kind of job. Let alone ones where you risk your life,” I muttered, picking at my cuticles.
“Just doing my part for the citizens of our little inlet.” He leaned down to give me a quick but hard kiss on the mouth, lingering inches from my lips after. “Didn’t miss the part where you called yourself my girlfriend.”
I screwed up my face. “I did no such thing. I’m not a junior in high school. I’m no one’s girlfriend .”
Elliot straightened and shook his head. “You’re not anyone’s. You’re mine.”
Suddenly, all the soft teasing was gone from his face, and all I saw was possessiveness. Intensity.
He continued looking that way as he walked out the door.
As I had expected, I had not been able to go back to sleep.
Not after the jarring wakeup, not with all the pressing work emails, not without a distraction in the form of morning sex.
The bed was cold without Elliot, the house much too empty and quiet.
I’d elected to take that ungodly workout class that started before I was even willing to get up.
I decided to be one of the psychopaths who got up at 5:00 in the morning for a gym class.
Maybe I’d make some like-minded friends.
Once I was dressed in my workout clothes and signed up for a class, I had enough time to return emails, make tea. Elliot got me into it. Told me about cortisol spikes and drinking coffee on an empty stomach.
It was thirty minutes after Elliot left when a shadow appeared in the corner of my eye.
My heart rate spiked, though I kept outwardly calm, trying to think of where the closest weapon might be. I eyed the knife rack to my right, moving imperceptibly closer with forced casualty.
“You don’t need to welcome me with an attempted stabbing.” Jasper’s tone was deep, casual, chilling.
Despite the familiarity of his voice, my heart rate did not calm. I turned to face him, standing where he’d let himself in by the sliding door that led to the beach. It had been locked. I checked every night. Then Elliot checked it since the shooter from weeks ago still hadn’t been caught.
“Most civilized people knock.” I had to force casualness into my voice.
“I’m not civilized.”
I braced my hands on the counter, thrumming my fingers against the cool marble.
“Be it as it may, I’ll have to insist that you do if you choose to visit again,” I told him sharply.
“Which I’d caution against, since I don’t think we have any reason to speak to each other.
” I paused, eyeing him. “Unless you’ve come to kill me.
” My tone didn’t change. But I was joking. Wasn’t I?
Jasper didn’t smile.
“I’m not here to kill you.”
The statement wasn’t reassuring, but I believed him. Jasper was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.
“Well, as much as I’m happy to hear that I’ll be living another day, you can’t just turn up here unannounced anymore.”
I thought of how close his arrival was to Elliot’s departure. Had they passed each other on the road? Elliot was racing off to save lives, and Jasper was what? Coming from yet another murder he’d use to drag me back into the shadows?
“Because of him?” Jasper’s tone didn’t change, but I saw his pinky finger twitch. His tell.
My heart stopped completely before it stuttered back to life. I forced my hand to circle around the kettle that had long boiled, pouring the steaming liquid into my tea cup.
“The man who has you drinking tea.” Jasper watched, attention rapt.
“It’s not cyanide.” I rolled my eyes.
“It’s not you,” he challenged.
My body warmed, my temper boiling like the water in the kettle. “You don’t know me anymore, Jasper,” I said in a whisper.
“Yes, I do.” His eyes kept mine captive, searching, probing, his tone icy. “You just don’t like that I do.”
I sipped the scalding liquid. A burnt tongue was preferable to having to answer.
“You are not the woman who dates fishermen or volunteer firemen,” he spat. “Racing off to save people for free. ”
I laughed at first, at Jasper’s indignation.
He couldn’t possibly understand doing anything for anyone that wasn’t transactional.
That’s how indoctrinated he’d become to his way of life.
Then again, even as teenagers, he’d had the quid pro quo thing well in hand.
A leftover from a childhood where no one did anything for free.
Then I stopped laughing as the wheels turned in my mind, the thought of what kind of man Jasper truly was, smacking me in the face.
He knew about Elliot. I’d told him the day I was staring at a dead body I never stopped seeing, the dead body that was decomposing in my mind and infecting me with guilt for keeping it locked away, secret from Elliot.
The more I thought about Jasper, the more I dissected every word he’d said since he walked in the door, exactly thirty minutes after Elliot left. After Elliot was called out to save people. For free.
Acts that Jasper disdained.
Jasper was cold, calculated, always ensuring that everything was within his control.
“You set the fire,” I gasped in horror.
“I needed to talk to you.” Jasper flicked his wrist dismissively, as if arson was something as innocuous as going over the speed limit.
I guessed in his world it was.
Arson featured pretty low on the totem pole of crime.
An inferno of my own thundered in my belly, flames licking at my insides, begging to be let out. But I needed to keep my cool with Jasper. Always.
“You could’ve just called.” I again burned my mouth with scalding tea, restraining the urge to throw it in his face.
I buried my worry for Elliot down deep, underneath layers of indifference and faux nonchalance.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” Jasper casually leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankles.
He too was playing the game with his mask firmly in place.
But we knew each other too well. I knew he was watching my tells, cataloging them, and I was noting his.
The twitching of his fingers, as if he wanted to ball his hand into a fist, the way he blinked slowly, forcing the movement, his eyes never leaving mine.
I’d used to love that intensity, the danger in his gaze. But right then I would’ve sold my soul to never be caught under it again.
The problem was, I’d already sold my soul to begin with. He owned it.
“I have nothing to say to you, therefore, me picking up your calls is pointless.” I didn’t bother to bring up the woman he murdered. I didn’t trust my voice not to shake if I did.
“It’s not me you’re ignoring.” He studied me. “It’s time you’re back in New York.”
I nonchalantly tilted my head, even though I felt anxiety creeping up my spine. I’d known I couldn’t permanently stay here without consequences. I’d been planning to go back, knowing that a small town wouldn’t keep me interested or entertained. Or alive.
I hadn’t expected how much I’d like it, being so close to my family, being able to be a different version of myself, one I didn’t hate so much. And then Elliot… Sinking into a life that I’d never thought possible. A life that was never mine.
“I can’t protect you for much longer.”