Page 24 of Powerless
There’s something about this moment that always entrances me. He looks so smooth, so rhythmic, so utterly in the zone that I can never bring myself to look away.
I love a lot of things about Jasper, but him being this damn good at something never hurts his appeal.
To me or to other women.
I tamp the envy down as I glance around the family and friends skybox. I’ve been in here a couple of times but always with my cousins.
Never by myself.
The vibe is fun and lighthearted, but I’m definitely garnering some looks. Especially since I’m decked out in an oversize Gervais jersey, and I’m a recognizable enough face in this city.
“You’re here with Jasper?” A perfectly put-together brunette woman appears beside me, bouncing a baby in her arms.
“Yeah.” I smile.
She eyes me but not in an unfriendly way. “What’s your name?”
“Sloane. You?”
“Callie.” She hefts the baby up and sticks one hand out to me.
We shake, and I find myself liking the woman. Her handshake is firm, but she isn’t squeezing the hell out of my hand in some weird show of aggression.
“Jasper doesn’t usually have anyone up here.”
My eyes dart back down to the ice where Jasper is squirting a stream of water into his open mouth through the cage across his face. “No?” I ask quietly because I’ve always made a point of not asking about his personal life.
Always felt like it would hurt too much to know.
I’ve been swallowing the green-eyed monster for decades, but she hasn’t stayed down. She leaps up on me unexpectedly.
Potently.
“It’s got all the girls talking. His personal life is a real mystery to us all,” Callie continues, chucking her chin over her shoulder as the puck drops and the game clock starts.
“Ah.” I glance in that direction and see multiple heads flip away quickly, like children caught staring. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve known Jasper since I was ten, and he’s still a bit of mystery to me.”
“Ten!” Her eyes bulge comically and then she sighs. “Well, that is just adorable.”
I smile but it’s tight.Adorable.More likepainful.
And that pain only grows as the minutes tick on. Because circumstances doomed this game from the start. Jasper is rightfully distracted. His head is certainly not on the pucks heading toward him at blistering speeds.
The opposing team scores first, less than one minute into the game. And it’s not a good goal. It’s one I know Jasper would want back.
They score again five minutes later.
I nibble at my nails, the pink wedding polish peeling away as I do.
Two minutes later a third shot finds the back of the net.
I groan and bite my bottom lip hard enough that the inside of it bleeds.
And when Jasper lets in a fourth goal before the first twenty minutes of play have elapsed, I have to blink back my tears. Not because they’re losing, but because watching him skate off—head low, shoulders slumped—after getting pulled from the game makes my chest ache.
I know he’s counting himself responsible.
He looks like the boy I met all those years ago—devastated.
