Page 19 of Fake It Til You Break It

So, when he jogged around the corner—eyes wide, hair messy, white shirt stained with what looked like dried blood—I didn’t even think. I didn’t stop to worry about boundaries. I strode over and dragged him into my arms, crushing him against my chest as if my embrace alone could protect him from the world.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his words rushed, his voice tight and breathless. He didn’t pull away, though. Instead, he melted against me, his grip tight and desperate. “There was an accident. But I left my phone at home, so I couldn’t call you, and I don’t…I don’t…”

“Easy. Easy.” I leaned back just far enough to stroke his hair, taming some of the frizz from his curls. “Take a breath, Jazz. Start from the beginning.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath. By the third repetition, his eyelids fluttered open, and he appeared slightly more composed.

“Traffic was terrible, and I was already running late. I parked in a public lot a couple of blocks from here.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction he had come from.

I glanced at the valet podium near the entrance of the warehouse, but I didn’t interrupt.

“This guy jogged by, and I noticed his face was red, and he looked kind of miserable, but I didn’t think much of it. It’s hot, and I figured maybe he was new to exercise.”

“I’m following.” And I had a decent idea where the story was headed.

“He collapsed. Just went down right in front of me. He was breathing, and his pulse was fast but steady. I didn’t have my phone to call anyone, though.” A frown tugged at his lips as if this had been a personal failure on his part. “Thankfully, someone else pulled into the parking lot then, and they called emergency services.”

“Is he okay?”

Jasper bobbed his head. “He was conscious by the time EMTs arrived, and more embarrassed than anything else.”

The knot in my chest loosened, and I breathed a little easier. “The blood?” I asked, pointing to the dried smears on his shirt. “What happened there?”

“He got kind of scraped up when he fell. Abrasions on his arms and a shallow gash on his forehead.” He held his hands up to show they were also stained red. “I couldn’t stop the bleeding, but I kept pressure on it until the paramedics could take over.”

“So, you’re late because you were busy being a hero?”

“What?” His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head quickly. “No. I just happened to be there. Anyone would have done the same.”

How classically Jasper. Both endearing and exasperating in the same breath.

“No, they wouldn’t have. And it might not have been life or death, but you were definitely a hero.” Grabbing him by the wrist, I dragged him back into my arms, more for my benefit than his. He still didn’t resist. “What about you? Are you okay?”

He remained quiet for a long time, but eventually, he nodded against my shoulder. “A little frazzled, but I’m okay.”

My chest squeezed, and my throat tightened. He hadn’t deflected or tried to minimize what he felt. Instead, he had acknowledged it, but with the caveat that, in this instance, it was manageable.

“What do you need now?” I released him again so I could see his expression, searching his eyes for the truth. He didn’t always give the full story, but those amber eyes never lied. “We don’t have to stay.”

“No, I’m okay.” His mouth stretched into a smile, and though a little tight at the corners, it appeared genuine. “I want to stay.” He held his hands out, palms up, and glanced down at his stained top. “But maybe it’s not a good idea.”

“Okay, we’ll stay, but you’re going to have to lose the shirt.” I doubted anyone would notice the blood once we made it inside, but he was definitely overdressed for the occasion.

His brow creased, but he didn’t argue. Unbuttoning it halfway down, he stripped it off over his head, revealing the fitted white V-neck underneath. Then he used the fabric to try to clean some of the blood from his hands, but it would take a lot more than a bit of cotton to get the job done.

He looked physically pained when I took the shirt from him and dropped it into a nearby receptacle. I don’t know what he expected us to do with it, but the idea of simply discarding it clearly made him uneasy. If it meant that much, I’d buy him a new one, but I wasn’t going to carry it around all night like a trauma blanket.

“Ready?”

In response, he pulled an elastic band from the pocket of his trousers but hesitated before securing his hair with it. A moment later, he held the tie out to me and adopted an apologetic grin.

“Do you mind? My hands are kind of gross.”

I didn’t mind, and I also knew how much it had taken for him to ask for help. So, this time, I didn’t tease. Taking the band, I stepped behind him, gathered his hair into a low ponytail, and secured it at his nape.

Before backing away, I dipped my head and brushed a kiss across the top of his shoulder. He shivered visibly, and goosebumps erupted across his skin, but he didn’t comment.

And he didn’t run.

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