CHAPTER 35
Nina slipped into the house, pulled the door shut behind her, and leaned back against it. Only then did she realize how badly her whole body was trembling.
The house felt dark and too quiet. It seemed like the walls were absorbing the leftover fear and shock she’d just experienced.
She still hadn't taken off her coat when she walked toward the living room, flicking on every light switch along the way.
She needed to wash her face—this night had been too much.
She hadn’t even gotten her coat off when the sharp buzz of the intercom sliced through the silence and made her jump.
“Damn it,” she breathed, moving to the panel.
The screen lit up.
Jasper stood at the door. The porch light distorted his features, making them look even sharper. He was staring straight into the camera, and the cold dread returned.
“What?” Nina asked, pressing the button.
“You left your purse in my car,” he said, his voice way too calm—as if he hadn’t just been kicked on the ground minutes ago, as if she hadn’t been sprawled on the asphalt beside him.
Nina blinked. The purse. Right. Her damn purse.
“Are you coming out to get it, or are you letting me in?” Jasper asked.
Nina glanced at the front door.
“I’ll come out.”
She stepped outside.
Jasper was a couple of feet away. Under the streetlamp, Nina saw the purple bruise spreading across his cheekbone. His face was slightly swollen, dried blood crusted at his lip. And still—he looked impossibly calm.
She lifted her chin, and before she could stop herself, the words flew out.
“Good thing you’re a doctor. A mask will cover that mess. If you worked in an office, you’d scare the hell out of everyone tomorrow.”
Jasper smirked, tilting his head.
“Is it really that bad?”
Nina shrugged and forced a thin smile. A strange bitterness rose in her throat.
He held out her purse. Nina took it, and for a second her fingers brushed his hand.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
Jasper nodded, and in that moment Nina found herself thinking how nice it would be to have a man nearby who simply…
protected. Someone strong. Steady. Someone who took care of things.
Not like Frank. Someone more like Jasper—confident, calm, always in control.
The kind of shelter she desperately needed.
Except Jasper didn’t fit either.
He wasn’t better than Frank. Maybe he was worse. Frank had sliced into her soul. And Jasper… Jasper had ripped her apart.
Nina looked away, turned toward the door, ready to go back inside. But then, without understanding why, the words slipped out:
“Do you want to come in anyway?”
Jasper froze. And Nina wanted to kick herself.
“I mean—at least wash up,” she added fast, covering her embarrassment with quick concern. “You should put ice on it. Your face is… really swollen.”
He stared at her for a long couple of seconds. Then, suddenly, he said:
“Okay.”
Nina flinched at the ease of his answer. An awkward, charged silence hung between them. Neither of them seemed to know what to do next.
She stepped aside to let him pass. Jasper walked by her in silence, into the house. No lingering look. No extra words.
She’d made a mistake. But it was too late to undo it.
In the living room, Nina came back with a first-aid kit and a bag of ice and set them on the table.
“Here,” she said over her shoulder. “Ice and the kit. You’re the doctor. Handle it.”
She didn’t even turn around. She took a couple steps back and stood there with her arms crossed, desperate not to look nervous. For some reason his presence was an electric pulse—small shocks running down her spine, straight through her.
A few minutes later Jasper came out of the bathroom after washing his face. His cheek and chin were flushed, and the swelling under his eye looked awful.
“Sorry,” he said, adjusting his clothes. “I got your towel dirty.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Nina shrugged without turning. “I’ve got a washing machine. And a housekeeper.”
Jasper laughed quietly and sank onto the couch, wincing.
“You sure nothing’s broken?” Nina asked.
“I’ll live,” he muttered, opening the kit.
He pulled out a blister pack, squinted at it. Another. A third.
“This is expired. This too. And this—this should’ve been tossed a long time ago.”
He kept pulling out package after package, and within a minute a pile of useless medication lay on the coffee table.
“When was the last time you checked this?” he asked, lifting his eyes to her. “You should restock. Or at least throw out anything with an expiration date older than the millennium.”
“We don’t get sick much,” Nina said stiffly. “The first-aid kit isn’t exactly a fan favorite in my house. Fortunately.”
He smirked, then winced again as he pressed the ice to his face.
The silence between them became charged—not heavy, but intense. Too personal.
Nina exhaled slowly, looking away. She didn’t want to look at him, but he pulled at her attention anyway.
“I think the only usable thing in here is the cartoon Band-Aids,” he said, setting down a bottle. “Even the peroxide is expired.”
Nina flushed. She quickly bent, grabbed the kit, shoved everything back inside, and slammed it shut.
“They’re for my daughter, okay?” she muttered. “She went through a phase where she was scared of regular Band-Aids—said they bit. The mermaid ones were fine. I bought so many, I still have spares.”
The house went silent for a second.
Nina’s gut clenched.
He was in her home. On her couch. Looking at her like he remembered—like he still remembered exactly how it had been. How she’d breathed. How she’d shaken. How he’d broken her.
Jasper stood abruptly. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed. His face was a mix of tiredness and something she couldn't name.
“Sometimes I think,” he said suddenly, “if things had been different… if I’d been different…
maybe we could’ve had a life together.” His gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.
“We probably would’ve crossed paths anyway.
We went to the same college. Crazy, right?
” He let out a short, rough huff of pain.
She went still.
He still wasn’t looking at her. He was talking to the air.
“I’m sorry,” he added quietly. “I’m going to go.”
She didn’t walk him out. He found the door on his own.
She stayed where she was, standing in the middle of the living room, unable to understand why they had been forced back into this orbit. Why this man—who looked completely normal on the surface, who had somehow raised a wonderful daughter on his own—had lost control just once…
And that one time had irrevocably ruined them.