Page 87 of Powerless
But no one even asked us about that. So either there are definitely two beds or my cousin and her friends are playing matchmaker in the fucking Love Shack.
“Cute cottage,” I say absently as I look around.
Jasper’s tightly corded back strains against the navy T-shirt he’s wearing as he pours himself a glass of water from the dispenser on the fridge. I take a moment to ogle the broad expanse of his shoulders, his posture always so immaculate, and the way it tapers down to his waist.
To that round hockey-boy butt.
I tip my head up and stare at the ceiling, all wooden planks and cross beams. Industrial wrought iron light fixtures and a fan hang above me, a funky contrast to the Persian rug beneath my feet. Cushy leather couches face the tall A-frame windows.
“You must be feeling relieved about Beau,” I say right as Jasper turns and leans against the kitchen counter. I absently wonder if it’sthatcounter but decide against bringing it up right now.
“Yeah. Will be good to see him. Hopefully, we’ll get more information from Harvey once he gets there.”
I nod. We found out later in the day Harvey was flying out East to a military hospital where they had transferred Beau so he could be with him.
“Are we going to stick around here at all? Or head straight back?”
His head tilts, and the expression he gets when he’s heading out on the ice paints his features. The focus. The edge. The narrowed gaze.
“I don’t know, Sloane. What do you want?”
I sigh heavily, rolling my shoulders back and holding my head high where I stand near the front door. “For once, I would like you to tell me what’s going on in your head. I’m tired, Jasper. Tired of guessing, tired of tiptoeing around everyone else’s feelings, tired of giving so much and getting so little back. And not just from you, from everyone. Can you just tell me something real for once? What are you feeling? What is our plan? Are we staying here? Or are we driving back? It’s really not complicated. And since you’re the one on a timeline with the team, I’m going to assume that you have a plan. Because you always do.”
He glares at me so I keep going. “You just,as usual,don’t feel the need to talk about it.” I wave a hand in front of me, frustration bleeding into my tone. “Or anything, for that matter. I guess it’s much better for you to keep everything locked inside and then blind- side me with all of your shit at once. So, like, can I have a heads-up or something?”
I watch his jaw pop, fingers clenched around the glass of water, forearm rippling as he squeezes it. We stare each other down, and I dive into those eyes I know so well, willing him to saysomething.I’ve spent years monologuing while he listens, but I’m done with playing that role for him now. Frustration simmers in my chest before leaping out.
“Oh my god, Jasper! Fucking say something!”
“I feel like I could crumble under the weight of not wanting to disappoint you. I’m paralyzed by my fear of losing you.
His words suck all the air out of the room. Like a punch straight to the gut. I remember falling off the tire swing on the ranch as a child and gasping for breath.
He was there . . . rubbing my back and telling me to stay calm.
I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off.
“The thought of needing you this badly and letting you down.” He drops my gaze, shaking his head. “It fucking kills me.”
“You’re never going to lose me,” I whisper back, itching to rush forward and touch him but wanting to give him space. I don’t want him to corner him or smother him.
“I almost did lose you.” He takes a couple of steps forward, and I think he’s going to come to me. But he places the glass of water on the marble island before propping his hands there, like that island is the only thing keeping him from moving across the room toward me again.
As though he’s fighting to keep himself away from me.
“On that mountain runaway lane. To your dad’s maneuvering. Tohim,” he adds, eyes dropping to the ring on my finger, the one that clearly did not prevent me from crossing that line with Jasper at all.
“Then fucking take me back already! I’ve been dreaming of you for literal years and never knew you saw me as anything other than a friend.” He flinches but I’m done holding back. “I’ve been licking those wounds for so damn long, Jasper. And you’ve been too chickenshit to say anything. So say it already. Tell me what you want!”
He groans and drops his head for a beat before leveling me with his midnight stare. “That’s what I want. That’s what I get off on. Telling you what to do and having you listen. Control.” His cheeks flush bright under his stubble. “I’ve tried not to. But with everything that’s happened in my life, it’s just become . . .” He runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Part of me. But I don’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable just to give me that. That’s not what you need. It’s not what I want for you. I see you. I see what you’ve been through. I’ve seen these men in your life telling you what to do, using you as a pawn. And I don’t want to be another asshole telling you what to do.”
Arousal unfurls in my gut, heat leeching out into the tip of every limb. “Don’t you get it, Jas? I’ve seen all the darkest parts of you and I’m still here. I still want more. Stop trying to scare me away. It isn’t going to work.”
He looks pained now.
“I don’t want to be another man who—”
My hand slashes out in front of me, and I cut him off. “You talk about not telling me what to do, that you don’t want to let me down, but I’m sick of being treated like I’m too fragile or too pristine. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress! So stop treating me like one. I’m not a trophy. You aren’ttellingme to do anything! I’m telling you I want you to take me, and you’re sitting here, patting my head like I’m stupid, telling me I don’t know what I want. If I don’t like something, I will fucking tell you. But for the love of god, stop deciding what I like or don’t like. What I can or cannot endure. What feels good or doesn’t. Stop holding back with me.”
