Chapter Forty-Six
“I WANT TO GET BUNNY.”
“You can’t get Bunny, Kota. You need to rest.”
“But—”
“I’m not having this conversation with you again.” Jasper sits on the edge of my bed and squeezes out another glob of Neosporin. “May I?”
I nod, biting back pain as he slathers more salve on my wounded calves.
I stare at Andrew’s old sheets strewn on the floor, because I’d rather be cold than feel dry fabric rubbing against my sticky wounds.
Dust floats up from the yellowed sheets like powdered sugar.
Dandruff? Skin particles? Dried eye-boogers?
I’ve been stuck in this room for too long. Two days too long.
I’ve got to get out of this bed, if not for the smell alone. My smell. Though the putrid tinge of infection lingers in the air, Jasper swears my puffy red wounds are healing nicely.
“Thank you for being my nurse.”
“You owe me big-time after this,” Jasper says, winking. He twists the Neosporin cap shut.
I slide my leg away. “On second thought . . .”
With deft hands, Jasper guides my leg back toward him and sandwiches it between his own. I try to ignore the heat building between my legs. “This is a mandatory trade, Kota. No squirming out of this one.”
“I wouldn’t even if I could,” I admit.
Jasper looks taken aback—and he’s not alone. Did those words just leave my lips?
Warmth spreads from my cheeks to my ears. I turn away, hoping he doesn’t see me blush.
Peter never made me feel this way.
Peter was convenient. His apparent attraction to me was validating, and at the time, I’d needed that—to feel wanted.
A tall, mysterious man chose me, Kota, to be his partner in the darkest of times.
Chose my hand to hold while the world around us withered.
We laughed, we kissed, we made love between supply runs and growling stomachs and grief.
It was, of course, all a lie.
Peter liked me weak. He craved it. It gave him power, made him feel strong. And I played the part because I thought I wasn’t enough for myself. Peter’s approval means nothing to me now, because I mean everything to me.
Jasper traded two bottles of cabernet for a half-full tube of Neosporin and a travel-sized bottle of rubbing alcohol. He didn’t do that to show ownership of me. He did it because he cares. He sees my strength, and his actions only make me stronger.
And so I’ll let him Neosporin the shit out of my wounds. When the time comes, I’ll do the same for him.
“Thank you,” I say. “And I’m sorry.”
Jasper meets my eyes. “Sorry for what?
“I’m sorry you lost your sister.”
He reaches toward me, his fingers touching my chin. I soak up the foreign feeling, turning my cheek into his hand. I don’t even mind his ointment-covered fingers.
“You won’t lose yours,” he says.
“No,” I say. “I won’t.” Jasper drops his hand from my face as I turn away and look out the dirty window. The grime crammed into the corners, the bugs smooshed in the panes, and the dust coating the surface are nothing compared to what I’ll soon experience. “When will the tunnel be ready?”
“Timeline hasn’t changed.”
But I’ve changed.
Jasper continues, “Five days. I know you’re worried about Bunny, but she’ll be okay for another five days.”
“How do you know that?” I snap. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has died. What makes Bunny any different?”
He pauses before responding, probably pondering what words are least likely to make me detonate. “Kota, take a deep breath. Be patient.”
Wrong words.
“Patient,” I spit out. Any heat between us vanishes.
The room tilts on its side. “I patiently waited for my mother to get better, and she died. I patiently waited for my father to come back, and he never did. I patiently waited for my brother to bring back cereal, and guess what? I only got to say goodbye to his corpse.” I take a deep breath.
“Patience killed my grandma, too. I will not let it kill my sister.”
Jasper’s eyes frown at the corners, like he’s sorry. If he understands, then where’s his resolve?
“Why won’t you help me?”
“I am helping you—”
“No, you’re not.” But I’m done arguing. I won’t change his mind. “You should leave.”
Jasper’s head ticks to the side. “What?”
“I want to be alone,” I say, though it’s the furthest thing from the truth.
He takes the hint and stands. “Fine,” he says, his tone cold. He pauses before leaving the room and leans against the doorframe. “Promise me you won’t go after your sister.”
“Jasper—”
“Promise me.” His eyes bore into mine. “Five days. Hold on for five more days.”
I huff. “I promise,” I say, my gaze fixed on my bandaged legs.
He clenches his jaw. “Good enough.”
Soon as he’s gone, I roll onto my side and pull a ratty pillow over my head to block out the light. Better get used to the darkness, because there will be no light when I betray his trust.
No, I’m not ready to lose him, but Greeley’s voice grates in my head, shreds my brain like cheese. Your goal is to save your sister, isn’t it? Then strap on your nuts and do it.
I think Grandma would agree.