Cara #3
“You let him hit you,” I deduced. “There is no way he could have done that if you didn’t allow it.”
His eyes darted away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Jasper.”
His mouth did something that was almost a smile. “I needed him to make the first move. Cleaner that way.”
“You let him hit you on purpose?” I all but shrieked. “What—?”
“I saw it coming from about four seconds out.” He tilted his head slightly, testing his jaw. “Took it a little harder than I planned, if I’m honest.”
“That is insane.”
“It’s practical.” His thumb moved across my cheekbone. “If I put my hands on him first, it’s a bar fight. He swings first; it’s self-defense, and he’s trespassing. Paige gets to ban him clean. No argument.”
I stared at him. “You thought all of that out.”
“Paige and I talked about it. Not about tonight specifically—we didn’t know when he’d show up, or if he would. But he’d been circling long enough that it felt like a matter of time.” He paused. “I wanted to be ready. I didn’t want to be caught flat-footed with you standing right there.”
Behind us, Paige said, without any surprise in her voice whatsoever, “We had a working theory.”
I looked at my sister. She looked back at me with the expression of a woman who had been running a bar for years, had thought several moves ahead, and was not remotely apologetic about any of them.
“Both of you,” I said. “Both of you.”
“We didn’t want to worry you,” Jasper said.
“We wanted him handled,” Paige said.
“That is—” I stopped. I did not know whether to be furious or moved, and the two feelings were sitting close enough together in my chest that I could not tell them apart.
I looked at Jasper’s jaw, the mark already beginning to darken.
I reached up and touched it very lightly with my fingertips, and he went still under my hand.
“Does it hurt?” I said, going up on my toes to kiss it.
“A little.” His mouth tipped up in a grin. “It’s getting better now, though.”
“Oh my god,” I said. “Don’t do that again.”
“I won’t need to.”
“Jasper—”
“He’s not coming back, Cara.” His voice was very quiet and very certain. “That’s done now. It’s done.”
I looked at him for a long moment in the cold night air—this man who had let himself get hit so the ending would be clean, who had watched out for me quietly without asking for anything in return.
“Come here,” I said, and pulled his face down to mine.
Behind us, Lucy made the sound she had been making since we were children when she found something unbearably romantic. Then the cold street and the warm bar and all of the ordinary world went on around us without requiring a single thing from me.
I stood there in the parking lot, breathing hard, still shaking from head to toe.
Something inside me had broken open, and I wasn’t sure yet whether it was relief or terror or both at once.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes—not from fear, but from the sheer force of finally letting the rage out after so many years of swallowing it down.
Paige held the door open, and I walked back into the warmth of the bar and stopped just inside it, blinking in the light. Lucy was beside me in an instant, her arm coming around my shoulders. Eliza took my hand. Piper was just behind them.
The bar stayed quiet for another beat, the whole room suspended, and then slowly, collectively, it exhaled. Someone started clapping—one person, then another, then a low wave of it moving through the room.
Paige came in behind us, let the door swing shut, clapped her hands once sharply, and announced to the room, “Show’s over. That man is banned for life. Everybody, back to your drinks.”
The bar gradually came back to life. Voices rose again. The jukebox started playing.
Jasper took my face gently in both hands and pressed his forehead to mine, holding me there, steady and warm, while the whole bar watched.
“You were magnificent,” he murmured.
“I was terrified,” I whispered back, voice cracking.
“Being both is okay.” He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me.
I buried my face in his shirt and let the tears come—silent, shaking, years of swallowed anger and fear finally spilling over.
He held me tighter, one hand stroking slowly down my back, grounding me while the storm inside me slowly began to settle.
“Back to your booth.” Paige’s voice carried over the noise. “Cara, sit down before you fall down. Lucy, pour her more wine. Jasper, you’re off the clock. I’m bringing food. Nobody moves for the next ninety minutes.”
I sat. Jasper slid in beside me, his thigh pressed against mine, his hand finding mine under the table. My sisters fed me fries, more wine, and smiled with quiet, fierce pride.
I leaned into Jasper’s shoulder, still trembling. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I wasn’t shrinking. I wasn’t apologizing for taking up space. I had stood up. I had shoved back. I had spoken the truth out loud in a voice that could be heard.
I wasn’t the same woman who had walked into the bar tonight. I could be a badass. I could stand up for myself. And for the first time, I believed it.