Chapter Nine #5
Jasper was leaning against the closed barn door, but I saw the tug of a smile pull on his upper lip. “I thought it best, because God knows you never do as you’re told.”
In this moment, I let go of the anger I held toward him. Whatever ill thoughts I harbored for my “boss,” the tired expression on his face and defeated body language told me no one felt worse about him than he did himself.
“True,” I said, and turned back to the stall when Dahlia moved. I scanned over her body and relaxed when it became clear she was just shifting in her sleep. Suddenly, the scent of sandalwood and mint came from behind me, and I closed my eyes. I’d never smelled anything better.
“Hallie?” Jasper said, his voice only inches from me. I schooled my features and glanced back at him over my shoulder. Jasper rubbed the back of his neck, seeming uncomfortable. “Can we talk?”
I furrowed my brow in confusion, wondering what he wanted to discuss.
I worried this was dangerous territory for us.
We’d never been much good at talking without it ending up explosive.
But curiosity won out, and I nodded, following him to the bench that was opposite the stall.
I sat down beside him, leaving a suitable distance between us.
The barn was completely quiet but for Dahlia’s steady breathing and the distant sound of Katie stacking shelves at the barn’s reception.
Jasper stared down at his clasped hands for a moment, then on a fortified breath, met my eyes and said, “I’m sorry, Hallie.” Those softly spoken words seemed to take flight and land right inside my heart. My lips parted and shock trickled over me slowly.
Jasper must have seen my surprise, as his eyes appeared pained and he rubbed his hand over his face. He laid his elbows on his knees and said, “The man I’ve been of late . . .” He shook his head, then looked me dead in the eye. “You probably won’t believe me, but it’s not who I am.”
His voice was so broken and laced with sadness that it made my chest ache.
I clutched on to the edge of the bench seat like was a lifeline.
I didn’t say anything in response. As harsh as it sounded, I needed him to give me more than that.
He had been hot and cold since I’d come here, kind and then cruel.
I was done with the back-and-forth. I was far from a pushover, and I wasn’t going to start with him, even though this man got to me like no one had before.
He must have read that on my face, as he sighed and said, “Things have just been . . .” His words trailed off, and he stared at the floor, lost in thought.
When he turned his attention back on mine again, he said, “A fucking shit show,” and his terminology made my lips twitch in humor.
Jasper was so well spoken, so posh, that those words didn’t seem right coming out of his mouth.
Swallowing my mirth, I refocused and asked, “Why?”
Jasper froze, and I could tell by his tight expression that he was debating whether to tell me. That was fine. It was his choice. But I wasn’t going to play this game again.
Getting to my feet, I faced him and said, “Jasper, I appreciate your apology. And I accept it. Truly.” He was watching me like a hawk.
“But I think we need to leave our relationship as simply professional.” I hated saying those words, an ache actually pulled in my chest, but it was true.
“For some reason, we trigger something in one another, and it always ends badly.” I met his eyes.
The dark-brown color held a hint of red under the fluorescent ceiling light in the barn.
“I am thankful you came here tonight to apologize. But I think this is where we draw a line under . . . whatever this is. I leave soon, and we can put all this behind us.”
I cast Dahlia’s stall one last look and decided it was time for me to go home.
Head down, I moved past him, when he took hold of my hand to stop me.
It was déjà vu to earlier today, and just like his touch had done then, it sent sparks through my body and rooted my feet to the spot.
I looked down at his hand in mine. He was gripping my fingers so tightly it almost hurt.
He looked up and met my eyes, silently begging me not to go.
I exhaled a shaky breath, but Jasper coaxed me to sit back down beside him on the bench with a soft tug on my arm.
In that moment, I was weak, as I went without a fight.
I expected him to release my hand as soon as I sat down, but he kept a tight hold.
Right now, I felt he was holding my heart in his hand too.
Jasper swallowed hard, seemingly warring with himself about lowering his high walls, when he closed his eyes and said, “The night you found me in the barn . . . The night I was drunk, was the second anniversary of my father’s death.”
And just like that, my heart fractured into pieces and understanding filled in the cracks. In this moment, Jasper looked broken. And when he opened his eyes and turned to me, his beautiful face implored me to forgive him, to understand why he’d been the way he had.
Jasper tipped his head back, taking in three deep breaths.
When he faced me again, he looked terrified that he’d admitted that.
Dahlia’s wide, fearful eyes sprang to my mind, and I couldn’t help but see the similarities between hers and Jasper’s in this moment.
I didn’t feel like horses and people were so dissimilar.
When horses were happy, you could see it in their gait.
They were approachable and affectionate.
When they were scared, they would run away, or worse, charge and kick out, become aggressive and aloof.
I replayed all of Jasper’s harsh words to me of late and peeled back the veil of what they must have hidden—pain, agony . . . anguish. I realized then that I didn’t really know him, not deep down. Didn’t know the secrets and silent hardships he harbored.
Like I had with Dahlia, I kept my tone soft and placed my free hand over his so both of mine were safely wrapped around his fingers.
I felt Jasper relax, and hope sprung in my chest. I wanted him to open up to me.
I wanted him to confide in me. Keeping in pain would only destroy a person in time, keeping too much agony inside was cancer to the soul, poison to happiness.
“You can talk to me,” I said, gently, rubbing the top of his hand with my palm. “I’m someone you can trust.”
Jasper stared at me for so long that I didn’t think he would, when his lips parted, and he said, “Since my dad died, I feel like I’ve been unraveling. And I don’t know how to put myself back together again.” His grip on my fingers tightened, and I could tell how much that had cost him to admit.
I squeezed his fingers in empathy and said, “I lost my dad when I was twelve.” Jasper nodded and searched my face.
I knew he’d suspected it from our conversation on the way back from the shoot.
But I wanted him to know that I understood him.
I understood what losing a parent felt like.
Even now, thirteen years on, the loss still hurt.
Grief for a loved one never went away—it was a constant roller coaster of feeling, like a part of you was missing and knowing the devastation that it would never be filled.
“Hallie . . .” Jasper said, and I could see guilt on his face. I assumed he was regretting the way he had treated me even more now.
“I’m okay,” I said, though my voice told another story.
“It was a long time ago. And Aunt Jeanie and Uncle Luke took me in and gave me a loving family and a home. I still have people at my daddy’s ranch who are my family too.
I never yearned for belonging and affection.
” I shifted a little closer and put a hand on his shoulder, keeping hold of his hand with the other.
“But I know what it’s like to lose a loved one.
” I huffed a laugh. “Two, really. My mom passed away when I was a toddler. She was sick. I don’t remember her or her passing, but I mourn her nonetheless. ”
“My mother died too,” Jasper said, and a strange feeling of knowing one another wrapped around us. “Cancer. I was twelve.” His grip on my hand shifted, and we were now palm to palm, fully holding hands. “The same age you were when you lost your father.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I’m sorry too,” he echoed. I knew he was saying it as more than condolences. He was sorry for the way he had been.
“How did your father pass?” he asked, and there was a hint of something else in his voice. Something I couldn’t decipher. Like that topic was almost too fragile for him.
“Heart attack,” I said, and tried to push that day from my head.
Daddy? Daddy! Wake up! Wake up, please! Why aren’t you waking up?
My cry to his unmoving body still kept me up some nights. Jasper squeezed my hand in support. “I found him,” I said.
“Oh, Hallie . . .” Jasper wrapped his arm around me. He pulled me to his chest, and I sank into his embrace. He was warm despite it being cold outside, and his addictive scent was as cozy as roasted hazelnuts and pumpkin-spice lattes.
After a few seconds, I pulled back. “Ranching is hard,” I said, and Jasper listened intently.
“He was far too overworked and tired, especially for his age.” I smiled sadly.
“He never got over my mom’s death, at least that’s what his best friend and the old ranch hands told me.
” I released a shaky breath. “In all honesty, I think he died of a broken heart. It just took a few years to take him down, is all.” I wiped away a stray tear but pulled myself together.
“At least I know their love was real while they had it.” I laughed, mainly to break through the sadness. “Something to aspire to, I suppose.”
“It sounds like it,” Jasper said. Then his face fell, and he said, “Do you know how my dad died?”