Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My slippers flop against the hardwood floor, strips of my shredded pants flapping in sync with each step to my door. I don’t even want to be here, but I have nowhere else to go.
“What happened to you?” I snap my focus up to the concerned voice. Jasper sits, a bouquet of roses in hand, slumped against the wall.
“I got into a fight with the pavement,” I mumble, painfully aware of my chaotic appearance.
He groans subtly as he stands, stretching towards the ceiling, revealing a sneak peek of his chiseled abdomen. A dark hoodie sits easily beneath a brown corduroy jacket. Black joggers fall clean along the long length of his legs, unbothered and practical.
Jasper crosses his feet, extending a bouquet of roses as I jingle my keys from Nyx’s hoodie. “I believe it.” He chuckles.
I reach out, wrapping what I can of my fingers around the base as his own gently brush over the ruins of mine.
“For me?” I ask quietly.
His lips thin as he notes the bloody bandages. “Of course.”
I drop the flowers to my side as I open the door, motioning for him to enter.
“Still haven’t changed a bit, I see.” His head angles as he moves. I toss my keys onto the island and search under the sink for an empty vase.
“Yeah, well, I like what I like.”
He hums. “So do I.”
I feel the heat grow in my cheeks as he gazes at me, and I quickly turn away.
Jasper leans against the refrigerator, his eyes burning into my back as I pull an empty antique jar from underneath, placing the flowers gently in as I flick the faucet on to fill it up. I reach behind me, itching at the feeling. “Thank you for the flowers.”
I turn off the faucet as it nears the rim, grabbing the jar carefully and turn back to face him.
The lines of his face soften as he exhales a shaky breath, releasing his tight smile. “I’m sorry, Florence.”
I shake my head, moving around the island to the couch. I set the jar on the coffee table and pull my feet into my lap as I sink backward. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Jasper pushes off the fridge and takes the cushion next to me.
I reach out for a pillow and stuff it to my chest. “I do though,” he replies. “Florence, you have no idea what it felt like for me seeing you like that. I didn’t know if you were dead or alive underneath that thing.”
I open my mouth to make a joke, but nothing comes out. “That thing’s name is Torin, and I know that feeling,” I say, softer than I mean to.
He strokes my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “When I saw Maxim raise that pistol, I lost it. I know I should’ve stayed in my position… but Florence, the hell with any position. I can’t— I can’t watch that ever again.”
Oh. I huff, pulling the pillow tighter to my chest. “Well lucky for you, you won’t have to.”
He inclines his head, searching my eyes. “What? Why?”
I look at my fake windows on the wall as the vomit forms in my mouth. “They stripped me of lead.”
Jasper sits, still as death, watching me as I struggle to keep my eyes locked on the pictures. “Your feet are filthy,” he says finally.
I choke out a laugh, whirling back to him at his audacity. “That’s your response?”
“Doesn’t feel so good when someone else deflects, does it?”
With lightning speed, he scoops me in his arms, pulling me onto his lap. My body freezes as his arms cradle me. I feel the redness in my cheeks begin to bloom as his familiar breath whisps across my face.
He lifts us both from the couch with an otherworldly ease, carrying me to the kitchen sink.
He places me on the edge, bracing a hand on one hip and gripping the shredded fabric around my knees with the other.
With one stroke he rips it free, tossing the ruins to the floor, then reaches for the opposite side to repeat the action.
“Those were my favorite pair of pajama pants,” I grumble.
“Yeah, they sure look like them.” Jasper turns on the faucet, moving it away from my skin as he feels for the right temperature.
I can’t help but stare as the golden whisps fall faintly around his furrowed brows with each movement. He squeezes the dish soap into his hands, rubbing them together until they bubble.
Jasper looks up at me beneath his dark lashes, snickering when I quickly drop my face. “Foot,” he commands.
I groan, stuffing my hands in my lap stiffly, and prop my foot into his displayed hands.
The man knows what he’s doing that’s for sure.
Jasper runs his thumb in circles around the top of my foot while he kneads the arch deeply.
My shoulders slump along with my head against his shoulder, as he works.
I close my eyes, silently hating myself for being so harsh on him yesterday. “You didn’t have to do this,” I mumble.
His only response is to lean over and rest his head onto mine.
He straightens again and my legs limpen as he switches feet, putting in the same energy with the next foot as he did the first.
“Can I ask why they stripped you?”
“Ana said I was going to get myself killed,” I answer hesitantly.
Jasper pulls at my pinky toe. “She’s not wrong.”
I lift my chin, bracing my hands on the counter behind me. “But she is. I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”
His focus flickers to my hands, and up to my bruised eyes. “Barely.”
I go to jerk my feet from his grasp, but he firmly holds them in place, straightening to face me. “Don’t. Don’t start that, Florence. We all care about you. You think any of us want this for you? No. But do you think we all don’t see the way you throw yourself recklessly into each mission?”
I lock my eyes onto his, fury boiling inside my chest. “I am not reckless, Jasper.”
He drops my foot, placing his wet hand on his hip in frustration. “And a stop sign isn’t red. What do you call it then, Florence?” he snaps.
“Doing my job!” I bark out.
Jasper steps forward, challenging me. My breath hitches as his scent flushes into my nostrils. His eyes dart between mine, peeking down quickly at my lips. He leans forward, the warmth from his body radiating through the thick hoodie swallowing me whole.
I clamp my mouth shut, narrowing my eyes in warning for his next move. But the sink sprayer hisses to life, splattering me right in the face. I scream swatting at the water drenching me. “What was that for!”
Jasper clutches his stomach, stumbling backward, howling. “You want to act like an animal, well, by golly, I’ll treat you like one!”
“Ugh! You insufferable man!” I screech.
I jump down from the sink, slipping and sliding against the wet tile as I fight to get to him. Jasper sprints from the kitchen, disappearing into my bedroom, his howls of laughter trailing him as he goes. I scream, half laughing, half in warning. And race after him.
He splays his hands my bed, using it as a barrier between us.
I glance down at the neatly made bed. “The heck with it,” I mumble, then I pounce.
The comforter immediately absorbs the water dripping from me.
Jasper breaks a left, darting for the door.
He’s fast, his long legs reaching the exit in two strides, but he’s not fast enough.
I push off, throwing myself onto his back and we tumble to the floor.
My bandaged hands hammer into his back hard, but he still laughs with each hit. “It feels like a pillow fight!” he laughs, gasping for air.
“Ugh!” I slide off of him, falling flat onto my own back.
“Your hands are never going to heal like that,” he breathes.
I roll my eyes, holding up a mummified bird.
“I can see now, firsthand, you certainly don’t think before you act. You’re like a freaking grenade, Flossie. Is this what Nyx has to deal with all the time up front?”
My tongue darts out. “You’re infuriating sometimes you know that?”
He chuckles, propping himself up on his elbow. “But you love me for it.”
I freeze, my voice softening. “Ha. Quite the opposite.” Jasper’s eyes soften, his tongue subtly wetting his lips. By the time I catch the movement, he’s leaning over me, stroking a free strand of hair from my forehead.
“Jasper—” I plead, my heartbeat thundering rapidly through my chest.
Jasper doesn’t wait another minute for my excuse. His lips collide with mine, curling his fingers into my scalp as he claims them. Sparks flitter between our flesh, my head spinning as I melt beneath him.
“Jasper.” I plead again, but his mouth is there, silencing me. He twists into my hair, as if afraid I might sink into the floor from his grasp.
Every nerve is screaming, my thoughts tripping over themselves inside me.
I want to pull away, to push him back, but my body isn’t listening.
His breath shakes against my lips, and I hate the way it’s undoing me.
He faintly pulls away, his eyes remaining tightly closed as if he’s savoring this moment.
The absence of him hits me harder than the kiss itself. I feel frozen in place, yet my lips burn with a wrongful desire.
Jasper gradually opens his eyes, inspecting every inch of my face for damage, as if he knows he crossed a line he can never return from.
I swallow dryly, my mind failing me for words.
“I’m not sorry,” he says, releasing my hair, dragging his thumb lazily across my lips.
“I can’t be. You are so unbelievably beautiful. ”
I prop myself up onto my elbows, forcing him back into place. “Jasper, look at me.” I nod my head towards my bruised and bandaged body.
“I am,” he murmurs, gazing in awe as he strokes my hair back. I reach up, tucking a golden lock behind his ear.
“You don’t understand—” I trail off as words fail me.
“Then help me to understand, Florence. Let me in.”
I pull back, trying my hardest to be gentle. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
Jasper sits up onto his knees, placing his hands on his thighs. “I’m not asking, Florence. I’m begging. Always begging. I want you, all of you. Whatever is behind these doors you keep welded shut, it’s not going to scare me away.”
I bury my face into my bandages. “So poetic,” I murmur.
He rises from the floor, wandering over to the bookshelf. “Let me take a book or two and learn what kind of poetry you really like.”
My eyes bulge and I jump to my feet, snatching the book from his hand. “No! Nope. My books are off limits.” I place the book back in its corner, looking over my collection. Jasper takes my hand, flipping it over to examine the brown and red stains.
“Can I re-wrap them and we talk?” He asks.
My stomach twists. “Yeah, I think Cici put the extra on my nightstand.” It feels like the room is shrinking.
I didn’t expect the conversation of us to come this soon, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or feel.
I don’t even know what real love is supposed to feel like.
But, I do know I can’t let one kiss make the decision for me.
Jasper steps around me to retrieve it. I make my way around the island to find the scissors. Drawers clank and bang as I search. “Did you find it?” I call out.
He emerges from the doorway, holding a small, packaged object in his hand. “Why do you have Narcan in your drawer?”
My heart stops. “What?”
Jasper steps to the counter, leaning across to show me. “Narcan?” he repeats.
I rub my itchy palms against my thighs as they begin to sweat. “Why were you in my drawer?” I demand.
He looks around shamelessly, then shrugs. “I didn’t see the wraps, so I thought she put it in your drawer?” A drum beats inside my ears as my eyes refuse to look away from the package. Years of holding onto it. Hiding it. I’ve hid my past in that drawer. And now it’s displayed in front of me.
I shake my head, snapping out of it, and snatch the Narcan from his hands. “Get. Out.” I toss my hand, dismissing him.
“What? What did I do?”
Jasper moves to reach for me, but I jump back, knocking against my door frame.
“I said get out!” I yell, thrusting my finger to the door.
He stares at me, unwilling to move. My mask seeps down across my face as I slip into my room, closing him out.
I slide down the back of the door, covering my mouth with my hand as I listen for any footsteps beyond the barrier.
A few minutes go by before shoes distantly tap against the tile, followed by the click of my front door.
My hands jerk in the hoodie pocket, scrambling for my phone.
I hit a button, listening as the rings filter the air.
“Florence?” Cici answers.
“I need you,” is all I can muster as my mask bursts into flames.