Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
JASPER
"Thanks for joining us, boys. It's nice having the company. You know what I always say?—"
"The more the merrier," we all chorused.
Marie laughed and pulled me into a loving sideways hug.
I told myself I had to come. I wasn't very well going to let Chase have dinner with Natalie and her mother alone.
I gave Marie a little squeeze. She was like a second mother to me, just as Ed was like a second father.
And I missed him. So fucking much.
I could only imagine how the Choi women were doing.
Maybe it was the residual buzz from the beers, but suddenly I wanted nothing more than to pull Natalie into that hug and just hold them both for a few minutes. Or hours—maybe even days—if it was just Nat.
Chase gave me an appraising look then turned and addressed Elliot in an overly cheerful voice. "Hey, El, didn't you say you needed to swing by the hardware store before it closes to pick up that, uh, that thing for your project?"
Elliot looked confused for a split second before nodding vigorously. "Oh, yeah, that's right! The, um, the doohickey for my woodworking thingy. Slipped my mind completely." He glanced down at his non-existent watch. "We better jet if we wanna make it in time."
Marie smiled warmly at them. "Of course, boys. You two run along now. But take some burgers for later."
"Thanks, Marie. You're the best!" Chase grabbed the proffered bag and flashed her a disarming grin before grabbing Elliot by the elbow and practically dragging him out the door.
The door shut behind them with a soft click, leaving me standing awkwardly in the Choi's cozy living room with Marie and Natalie. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, suddenly hyper-aware of every move I made.
Fucking Chase. I should've known he was up to something when he offered to buy dinner. Damn him and his scheming.
Marie, bless her heart, either didn't notice the tension in the room or chose to ignore it. She patted my arm fondly. "I'm so glad you could join us, Jasper, honey. It's been too long since we had a nice family dinner like this."
Family. The word sent a pang through my chest. Because that was exactly what the Chois had been to me for as long as I could remember—my second family.
Marie bustled off to the kitchen, leaving Natalie and me alone in the living room. I stole a glance at her, drinking in the delicate features I knew so well yet hadn't truly seen in years.
"So," Natalie began, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, "this is... weird, right?"
I let out a soft huff of laughter. This whole situation was surreal. It was oddly comforting to hear it acknowledged out loud. "You could say that."
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and I could practically see the thoughts swirling behind those chocolatey eyes. After a long pause, she blurted, "I'm sorry I never called, Jasper. Or wrote, or... anything."
I considered brushing her apology off, but something stopped me—maybe it was the sadness lacing her voice or the weariness etched into the lines around her eyes. She looked so fucking tired. In the end, I simply nodded.
"I know," I murmured. "Doesn't make it suck any less, but... I know."
Her lips quirked in a rueful smile.
"You gotta stop apologizing to me, though, if we're ever going to be normal," I said. "You're making me uncomfortable, Natalie."
Her smile broadened when she registered my teasing tone.
"Oh, geez. So sorry, Jas. Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."
Before I knew it, my face was twisting itself into the mock glare that always made her giggle. This easy back-and-forth felt irresistibly natural, like slipping into a favorite old hoodie. For a moment, it was almost as if no time had passed at all.
"Come on," Natalie said, nodding toward the kitchen. "We better go claim our burgers before mom decides we're taking too long and eats them all herself."
"Ah yes, I seem to recall your mom's notorious burger-snatching habits. Remember that summer barbecue when we were like, twelve? I swear she inhaled three cheeseburgers in the time it took me to put ketchup on my bun."
Natalie threw her head back and laughed. The sound triggered a warm flutter in my stomach.
"Oh god, I'd forgotten about that! Though in her defense, Dad had just perfected his 'secret spice blend' for the patties. I think everyone inhaled those burgers."
"True," I conceded with a chuckle. "Your dad's burgers were the stuff of legends."
The mention of Ed turned the mood somber, and I mentally kicked myself. But Natalie surprised me. Her smile softened rather than disappearing entirely.
"They were legendary, weren't they? God, I miss him."
"Me too." I reached over and took her hand. It was as much comforting affection as I could manage at that point, but her sharp inhale told me it had more of an effect than I expected.
I shouldn't have been touching her.
She had a boyfriend.
But that touch was innocent.
As long as I let go quickly.
Too late .
I dropped her hand like it burned me, and she visibly stiffened, eyes darting to my face. Looking for what, I didn't know.
I cleared my throat and took a seat at the kitchen table.
Marie set the burgers down, and the smell of melted cheese and grilled beef made my mouth water. But my appetite was overshadowed by the discomfort radiating from Natalie.
She was avoiding my eyes, fidgeting with her napkin. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she struggled to find her footing in our strange new dynamic.
Awkward quiet settled over us as we tucked into our food. Marie filled the void with idle chit chat about the weather and the latest town gossip.
Natalie picked at her fries, stealing glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I pretended not to notice, focusing intently on my burger, even though it was getting harder and harder to swallow.
This was a mistake. Having dinner together like one big happy family—it was too much, too soon. The past was still a festering wound that opened every time Natalie and I shared the same air.
I should've made my excuses and left when Chase and Elliot did. But some perverse part of me wanted to see how this would play out, to test the waters of whatever this was between us now.
It turned out the waters were ice cold and treacherous as hell .
Natalie cleared her throat, and my head snapped up instinctively. "So, um...how are things at the orchard?"
It was an innocuous question. The kind of small talk you made with a casual acquaintance.
It cut straight through me, laying bare how far we'd drifted apart. She was so far removed from my life now. How could she understand the blood and sweat I'd poured into helping keep our family legacy alive? It was a constant struggle, and she made damn clear seven years ago that she had no interest in sharing it.
"It's good," I said shortly, tamping down the flare of bitterness. "Busy, as always. But we're managing."
She nodded, worrying her bottom lip again. I wanted to snatch it between my thumb and forefinger. Kiss away the pain.
Like I used to.
But I couldn't.
It wasn't my place anymore.
I can't do this.
I tossed my napkin on my plate. "Thanks for dinner, Marie. I should probably head out."
Marie's brow creased. "So soon? I was hoping we could all catch up a bit more."
"Yeah, I've got an early start tomorrow," I lied, already pushing back from the table. "Lots to do before harvest season."
Natalie's eyes found mine, and I could read the emotions swimming beneath their surface. The silent plea for me to stay, to not run away .
But I couldn't. Not tonight.
"I'll walk you out," she said, rising from her chair.
I was about to argue, but her expression stopped me. That stubborn set to her jaw that meant she wasn't taking no for an answer.
As soon as we were outside, she rounded on me, arms folded across her chest.
"So that's it? You're just going to take off?"
I raked a hand through my hair, frustration surging up. "What do you want from me, Nat? You want me to stick around and make nice over pie and coffee like everything's normal between us?"
"No, I..." She faltered, suddenly looking smaller than I'd ever seen her. "I don't know what I want. I missed you, Jas. Being around you again, it's..."
"It's what?" I demanded, taking a step closer. "Awkward? Painful? Because you're the one who left, remember?"
She flinched like I'd slapped her. "I know," she whispered. "Believe me, I know."
The naked vulnerability in her voice punched straight through me, shattering the last of my resolve. I reached for her, pulling her against my chest.
She melted into me with a soft sigh, her body molding to mine like it was made to fit there. For a few heartbeats, we simply clung to each other.
"I missed you, too, Nat," I admitted, finding my voice at last.
Her grip on me tightened, and her body started to tremble, shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. The sweet, familiar scent of her shampoo surrounded me as I tucked her head beneath my chin, letting my fingers trail up and down her back in soothing strokes. She clutched at me like I was her only lifeline, each ragged inhale reverberating through us both.
Grief rolled off her in raw, jagged waves, crashing against us with the force of a hurricane. I recognized the pain in her desolate, wounded cries—the soul-deep emptiness that came with losing someone she loved more than life itself.
My throat constricted as memories of Ed's booming laugh and twinkling eyes flooded my mind, each one a shard of glass grinding deeper.
Natalie buried her face in my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt. I tightened my arms in a futile attempt to hold her closer as a fierce surge of protectiveness welled up within me. She had always been able to strip away my defenses and touch the tender parts of me I kept walled off from the rest of the world.
I'd missed this. The intimacy of simply holding her, of breaking down the walls and bullshit we'd built up between us these past seven years.
Memories bombarded me in rapid flashes—huddling under the old oak tree as rain pounded the orchard, trading secrets and dreams in hushed whispers. Her delighted laughter mingling with the thrum of the music at our first high school dance. The soft, wondering look in her eyes the night we finally gave our virginity to each other.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the torrent, but it did nothing to stop the flood of memories. I was drowning in a past I could never get back. The ghost of the girl she was felt somehow more vivid than the flesh-and-blood woman trembling against me now.
Too much had happened. We could never rebuild what we had. Nana always said you couldn't polish a rotten apple, and things between Natalie and me had gone sour a long time ago.
Still, I couldn't seem to let go. Not yet. Not when it felt like coming home after a lifetime of aimless, lonely wandering.
So I stood there, rooted to the spot, holding her together as she crumbled in my arms. I murmured nonsense comforts, meaningless platitudes about everything being okay when we both knew damn well it wasn't. All I could do was be there, be present so she didn't have to break down alone.
Eventually, the sobs tapered off into shuddering breaths, and she pulled back, swiping at the wetness on her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. Her lashes were clumped with tears, eyes swollen and rimmed with smudged mascara.
And she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
"Sorry," she rasped, offering me a watery smile. "Guess I needed that more than I realized."
"Don't apologize." My voice was low and rough as my thumb grazed her flushed cheekbone. "Not to me, Nat. Not for this."
She sucked in a sharp breath as her eyes searched mine, dark and liquid, brimming with a thousand unspoken questions.
I should have let go. Put some distance between us. But I couldn't make myself do it. Not when she was looking at me like that.
"Jas," she breathed. It was a plea and a warning all at once.
The sound of my name on her lips, spoken in that longing tone, had me instantly pulsing with need. For a heartbeat, I allowed myself to get lost in her eyes, those endless pools of warmth that had haunted my dreams for years.
But then reality came crashing back. This—whatever this charged moment was between us—it was dangerous territory. A minefield littered with emotional shrapnel, and I couldn't face getting ripped apart all over again. I wasn't sure I could put myself back together this time.
I took a step back, putting a sliver of distance between us. Just enough to catch my breath, to regain some semblance of control before I did something stupid. Like pulling her back into my arms and never letting go.
"Nat," I cleared my throat, struggling to find the words. "We can't do this. Not again."
Pain flickered across her features. She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest or plead her case.
But I couldn't let her.
"I'm sorry," I said. It was a half-truth. I could never be sorry about having her in my arms, but I was sorry I had to pull away. "I should go."
Natalie folded her arms and gave a tight nod, vulnerability vanishing behind a mask of composure. With one last lingering look, I descended the steps and headed for my truck, ready to head back to a quiet, empty apartment.
Alone.