Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“One more night!” Nina shouted, running through the house.
Jasper threw his hands in the air in celebration. “One more night!”
It was a huge relief, and Jasper had been riding that high all day.
It was nearly Nina’s bedtime, and he was desperate for some peace and quiet, not used to the chaos he’d been living in since his house of one had turned into a house of four.
Unfortunately, the relief lasted about six seconds before Nina ran back into the living room, knocking over a basket of clean laundry they were getting ready to pack.
Something crashed in the kitchen, Winnie shouted not to come in, and Calliope yowled at her food bowl.
Ryan walked through the house collecting chargers and tablets and the endless crap from the miniature grocery store Nina had been working on all week.
Jasper watched him scoop up miniscule egg cartons and milk jugs from under the couch, Ryan muttering under his breath and pressing a hand to his back.
Jasper felt a growing sense of dread about how he would probably find tiny toy produce and dry goods around the house for the rest of his life, and at the increasingly agonized noises coming out of Ryan.
By the time everything was put away and ready to go, it was well past Nina’s bedtime.
The energy in the house had shifted an hour earlier when Winnie disappeared into the bedroom to be alone, and Nina, sensing her absence, had broken down in tears because she felt left out.
Ryan had tried to fix it the way Ryan always tried to fix things, by offering a gift, only to remember halfway through that they were completely out of ice cream.
It took another ten minutes of exhausted crying before Nina finally gave up and fell asleep on the couch.
Jasper winced when Ryan picked her up and hissed through his teeth before carrying her to the bedroom.
Finally, the house was blissfully quiet. Ryan had returned, sprawled on his end of the couch, and Jasper’s eyes focused on the empty cushion between them. The one he wanted to be sitting on, to be closer to Ryan.
Instead of being bold, Jasper settled for resting his hand on the cushion. Since Ryan was always the more courageous of the two, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when his hand brushed along the cushion or when his fingertips rested against Jasper’s. But it was.
The touch was gentle, but it felt purposeful. Jasper flipped his hand, so the pads of their fingertips were flat against each other.
They looked at each other and smiled shyly, Jasper’s heart beating so fast it was like he was fifteen again and on his first date, when he had sweaty palms and his nerves rattled around his ribcage, all from the magic of sitting in an older boy’s car.
This was better than that, of course. That night hadn’t been nearly as romantic as he’d hoped for. Mostly it had been the guy he was with getting progressively more handsy while Jasper just sat there, too inexperienced and desperate to be liked to ask the guy to slow down.
Looking at Ryan now—this man whose heart he'd broken, staring back at him with something achingly close to hope in his eyes—Jasper couldn't help comparing himself to the kid he used to be.
For years, well into adulthood, he’d been terrified of disappointing people or wanting too much.
He’s folded himself into whatever shape would make everyone else comfortable, addicted to the praise he got for being so kind and understanding.
It impacted every corner of his life—taking the blame for trouble his friends got into, volunteering for boring administrative tasks nobody else wanted at every one of his jobs; providing childcare to Beni and Stevie with increasing frequency as they discovered new hobbies; celebrating Ryan’s career wins, no matter how much time it took away from their relationship.
Eventually, he learned the true cost of ignoring the voice inside him. The one that said it wasn’t a requirement to burn himself out at work, to see his husband fifty days a year, or to quietly accept a new kayak when Ryan cancelled anniversary plans because of a chance at a match.
When he finally left Ryan, it hadn’t been because he truly stopped loving him. It had been because, for the first time in his life, he was confident enough to know he was worthy of what had gone missing.
For a long time, since even before Ryan’s retirement, Jasper had assumed whatever love they once had was gone, permanently lost to what Jasper had taken as Ryan’s painful indifference.
Lost to bad choices from them both, lost to Jasper’s determination to never feel taken advantage of—ironically, a confidence he’d developed, at least partly, from the trust he found in Ryan.
But sitting here now, with Ryan’s fingertips warm and rough against his, he found himself wondering if their story was as finished as he’d convinced himself it was.
He’d be remiss if he ignored the changes he’d felt from Ryan. The last two and a half weeks had been nearly perfect. The proof was scattered throughout their days—quiet gestures and loud declarations and everything in between.
Jasper woke up that morning expecting to find the dance recital costumes wadded up in the laundry basket where he’d left them the day before. He got up to steam them, but they weren’t there, so he checked the dryer and the spare bedroom.
It wasn’t until he walked into the hallway to grumble at everyone about their whereabouts that he found Ryan on his knees in the dining room, carefully steaming the garments before hanging them in dry cleaner bags once they were perfectly wrinkle-free.
Jasper had laughed under his breath, guilt bubbling at his knee jerk reaction.
There was no boasting from Ryan, just complete follow through on his promise.
For the first time in as long as Jasper could remember, they’d been a true team.
Ryan withdrew his hand and settled it back on his lap. The loss of contact was disappointing, but when Jasper looked over, Ryan looked ready to pass out.
“You look ready for bed,” Jasper said.
Ryan nodded. “I think so. Today took a lot out of me.”
“It’s like cumulative exhaustion. I imagine having a baby is thirty times worse.”
“At least,” Ryan said, laughing. “But yeah, I am beat. I need to go to bed.”
That was good, he thought. There was no need to rush anything. A not-small part of him was waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Ryan to let him down again, and until that feeling faded, Jasper had to be cautious.
They stood up and made their way towards the bedrooms. The guest bedroom was first, where a brand-new mattress with clean sheets was set up and ready to go, and Ryan stopped at the doorway.
His gaze drifted from Jasper's eyes to his mouth and back again.
There was nothing subtle about it. After everything that had passed between them during those ten minutes they were alone on the couch, Ryan looked hungry for a proper end to their evening.
Jasper met his eyes and let out a quiet sigh. “Goodnight, Ryan.”
Something flickered across Ryan’s face. Disappointment, maybe?
“Goodnight.” He smiled at Jasper. “Possum.”
The bedroom door clicked shut behind him, and Jasper let out a long, slow breath.
Space was good. Space made sense. His head was so crowded with conflicting feelings—but feelings that got less conflicted with every passing minute he spent with Ryan—he needed that space to make sure he wasn’t losing it.
But what if he wasn’t? And what if it was okay that he wanted to sleep in Ryan’s bed with him? What if, just for tonight, he did what he wanted to do instead of the thing that made the most sense?
On the other hand, he might do that and regret it, wake up tomorrow wishing he hadn’t set them back by complicating everything before they were ready.
He changed into a pair of soft pajamas, lingering over each step of his bedtime routine, just in case brushing his teeth a little longer or moisturizing his face a little more thoroughly before climbing into bed might convince his body it was ready for sleep.
It didn’t work. He stared up at the ceiling, then rolled on his side, then onto his back. He flipped his pillow over and squeezed his eyes shut, begging for sleep. Nothing helped.
Fifteen minutes later, he was no closer to sleep than he was when he’d climbed under his covers.
“Fuck it.”
A few seconds later, he stood outside Ryan’s bedroom.
There was no answer to his soft knock. Jasper held his breath and pushed the door open to find Ryan fast asleep.
His deep, steady breathing said he was lost to the world, which let Jasper breathe a little easier himself.
Ryan’s arm was sprawled across the bed, his hand resting where Jasper’s body would be if he’d already made his way in.
He slipped under the blankets as carefully as he could, trying not to make any noise. Ryan shifted and let out a sleepy hum, instinctively rolling towards the middle of the bed until his shoulder bumped into Jasper’s. The knot in Jasper’s gut loosened, and he was asleep within minutes.