Chapter 20 #2
I stared at him for a moment, trying to ascertain whether he was serious. Jasper didn’t joke. Jasper didn’t even smile anymore. For a nanosecond, I yearned for the boy with the dry wit, cheeky grin, and the edge that shaved me down a little but would never cut me.
But that boy was dead. None of him remained. I’d known that for a while, unable to admit that to myself.
“ Protect me?” I choked out a half laugh. “You mean standing by while I was beaten and raped? Or sexually assaulting me in a room full of men playing poker, using me as nothing but a pawn?”
I could’ve sworn I saw a tic in his jaw, a flash in his eyes that looked like regret, shame. But it must’ve just been a trick of the light.
“No one walks away from them, Calliope,” he replied quietly. “Not even for a weekend, if they need them. But you’ve been gone a year. And they’ve needed you. They’ve missed your skills.”
I tried my best to swallow the dragon crawling up my throat.
Through great effort, my lips stretched to an upward tilt. “Or you’ve missed me, Jasper?” I spoke in a sultry tone. There was a fight to be fought here, and I had to do it smartly. As much as the idea of being seductive toward Jasper when Elliot’s scent and warmth still clung to me repulsed me.
Though I really, really didn’t want to get any closer to him, I rounded the counter, sauntering toward him, aware of how little I was wearing—just a workout bra and leggings.
Jasper turned his body to face my approach, his expression blank, but I didn’t miss the flare in his nostrils.
“You have missed me.” I clutched the lapels of his blazer, almost expecting it to coat my fingers in blood.
Jasper was impeccably groomed, not a speck of blood near him.
He was always that way, even if he had just murdered someone ten minutes ago.
He barely broke a sweat when he fucked me.
Always so controlled. So emotionally distant.
But none of that had stopped me reaching for him, had it?
And I’d gotten proverbial blood all over my hands in the process, blood I was still trying to wash off.
“I get it.” I fluttered my eyelashes. “No one else measures up to me. You have to resort to stalking methods in order to have a conversation with me.” I hovered close to him, not willing to brush my body with his.
“Unfortunately, that ship has sailed.” I dusted an imaginary fleck of dust from his lapel before stepping back.
“I haven’t missed you.” It was cruel, but cruelty was the only language I spoke. The only one he understood. “And I haven’t missed my work. Which is done with.” I made my tone inflexible.
“You’re not done, Calliope,” he said softly. “With your work. Or with me.”
I squared my shoulders. Apparently, a battle with Jasper was going to be my warmup for the kickboxing class I’d signed up for.
Before I could open my mouth and let out a thorned insult, my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen, my body tensing as I read ‘Maybe Beau Shaw’ on the screen.
There was no reason for Beau Shaw to be calling me at 6:00 in the morning. Unless it was bad news.
Eyes on Jasper, I lifted the phone to my ear and answered. “What happened?” I forced calm into my voice because I didn’t want Jasper to have the satisfaction of seeing me panic and because I didn’t want there to be a reason to panic. Something could warrant the call that wasn’t a disaster.
But the second Beau spoke, I knew it was nothing less than catastrophe.
I froze as I listened to the person on the other end of the phone. The words.
Elliot. Fire. Accident. Hospital.
There were details padding the information, but I could barely hear them through the clamor in my ears.
I hung up the phone, staring at Jasper whose face was impassive. As it always was. But right then, I wanted to tear that blank look right off his fucking face.
“Elliot’s on the way to the hospital.” I was struggling to remain calm.
Jasper’s expression did not change. “Dangerous job. Putting out fires.”
I stepped forward. I wasn’t armed, wasn’t equipped to go up against someone as dangerous as Jasper, but with the acidic fury smoldering through me, I might have had a fighting chance. “A fire you set.”
A glint of something flashed in his eyes. Satisfaction. Warning. “Not as dangerous as thinking that something I own is his.”
I was thankful for the comment because it meant rage spewed up from inside me, overwhelming the terror I felt for Elliot.
I took another step forward, endorphins flooding my system, hands fisted, ready to plow through his face.
“You do not own me,” I snarled. “Nor does he. But I am his. Simply because he does not want to own me.” I took another step forward.
Our bodies were almost brushing, my chin tilted upward to meet his gaze.
There was nothing intimate about my stance, though.
I wanted to be as close to him as possible so he could see my eyes. See the truth in them.
“If Elliot does not walk out of that hospital whole and healthy, I am going to end you.” It was a promise I intended to keep.
“I am going to ensure that your death is long, painful and humiliating, and I will bury you myself before I spit on your grave. I promise you that. I vow that to you. And regardless of what happens to Elliot, this is the last time I’ll ever lay eyes on you again. ”
I didn’t break eye contact, taking him in. The man I had once thought I loved. The monster I’d thought was a monster to everyone but me.
Yet that was the thing with monsters… They eventually hurt everyone, even the ones they pretended to love.
Nothing moved on his face, but I felt it. I felt the words hit home as I watched understanding dawn behind his eyes. That I’d slipped from his grasp because he only knew how to squeeze the life out of things.
For a split second, he looked scared. Vulnerable. He looked like the boy I’d once known, the one who read Harlequin and Tolstoy, whose favorite film was My Girl , who did yoga, and held my hand in the moonlight.
For a split second, I felt guilt. Felt pain. For that boy I had loved. Who I believed was still inside of Jasper.
But only for a split second. Because that boy was dead. And even if he wasn’t, Elliot mattered more to me than he ever would.
“See yourself out.” I grabbed my keys from the counter.
A large, pale, strong hand fastened around my wrist. Tight enough to hurt.
Almost enough to break. I wished he would break it so I’d have another source of agony that wasn’t coming from my chest cavity.
But no. Elliot was in the hospital. The last thing I needed was me turning up with a broken arm, turning anyone’s attention to me when every doctor in the place should be focusing on my man.
I didn’t make a sound of pain, just glared up at him. “Get your hand off me right fucking now.”
He squeezed harder, brown eyes roving over me, eyes that were no longer blank and dead. He looked as if he was going to say something. Though there was nothing to be said between us anymore.
Right as I was genuinely becoming worried that my wrist was going to break, he let me go.
I didn’t hesitate to turn and run out the door.
.
I broke every speed limit during my drive to the hospital, not that I’d ever obeyed them before anyway. It took too long.
I harassed nurses that didn’t deserve to be harassed in order to get his room number then rushed into the space that was already filled.
His brother, father, niece, and a man I didn’t recognize were already in the room. The man was in a uniform, indicating that he was probably another volunteer, maybe the chief.
My eyes were only on them a handful of seconds, on a masked Clara a little longer, giving her a smile before I rushed to Elliot’s bedside. They had all come quickly, at this hour, because that’s the kind of family they were.
“You have all of your limbs.” Chest tight, my eyes ran over his entire body. There was a bandage on his head, scratches on his forearms but no casts. He was attached to an IV and I noted a discarded oxygen mask.
“That I know of,” he croaked, voice raspier than usual.
My lungs seized at the frailty of his voice, the pallor of his skin. He was always so vibrant, so full of life. Something primal told me that he’d brushed death that day. Closely.
I picked up the mask. “Shouldn’t this be on your face?” I shoved it at him. “I doubt it’s here for décor.”
He laughed, a thin sound that was sickly and made me taste bile. His hand moved slowly, lifting the mask before putting it back down. “I don’t need it.”
My eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”
I turned back to the silent peanut gallery. “Does he need it?”
Beau opened his mouth.
“I don’t trust men,” I spoke before Beau could, focusing on Clara. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, kid.”
Clara grinned at me underneath her mask. “He doesn’t need it. The doctor just came in and said so.”
I nodded, winking at her. For a heartbeat, I was concerned whether she’d suffer any residual trauma from being back in a hospital so soon. I also worried about her fragile immune system and superbugs.
Then I considered her father, who wouldn’t put her in harm’s way for anyone, not even Elliot, so I turned back to Elliot, who had obviously been watching me the whole time.
“I’ll give you a full checkup later,” I assured him.
His eyes sparkled. “I’m betting the doctors didn’t miss anything, but I’m willing to let you take a look.”
My cheeks heated, and though I hadn’t imagined it possible to feel desire in a hospital room—where Elliot was lying hooked up to monitors, the rest of his family behind me—my body hungered for him.
“Let’s keep this PG, for the child,” Elliot’s father rumbled from behind me, a warm teasing in his tone.
That only made me flush hotter, in embarrassment. Me. I didn’t get embarrassed.
My instinct was to step back, but Elliot’s hand clamped onto my wrist, holding me with surprising strength given his current position.