Page 108 of Broken Pact

I untangle my hand from Jasper and return his embrace. “Hey, Dad.” I pull back and gesture to the man next to me. “This is Jasper. Jasper, this is my dad, Lucas Turner.”

Jasper and my dad shake hands, murmuring their hellos.

Dad opens the screen door and gestures for us to go inside the house. “Well, come on in. Your mom’s already setting the table. Ooh, did you bring me something new today, Cora?” His eyes light up when they land on the covered pie dish in Jasper’s hand.

“She made key lime pie cheesecake.” Jasper stands a little taller, a proud smile playing on his lips.

“Sounds delicious, sweetheart,” Dad says, closing the door behind us quickly. And right on cue, he says, “We don’t want to let the air out.”

I get it though. Mom and Dad like it arctic temperatures in their house, and during summers, their air conditioning is working overtime.

Dad steals Jasper into conversation, leading him to the dining room. I trail behind them, watching the way my dad introduces Jasper to everyone like he’s his guest and not mine.

“I see you brought a date,” Beau murmurs, coming to stand next to me.

I arch a brow and toss him a prim and proper glare. “I see you brought a date.” I slide my glare to his childhood friend, Mason, who’s chatting with Mom.

Beau snorts. “Yeah. About that. I think Ma had some kind of misguided match-making illusions about Mason and you tonight.”

“What?” My mouth drops open. “But I told her weeks ago that I was seeing someone.” Hurt simmers inside my chest,

Beau shrugs. “You know how she is about Mason though. She’s probably just trying to make him a permanent part of the family or something. I don’t fucking know,” he murmurs quietly. “She probably needs another hobby or something.”

“You mean besides meddling in her children’s love lives?” I deadpan, rolling my eyes.

Beau tosses his arm over my shoulders with a chuckle. “C’mon, sis, I told you what worked for me.”

I shrug his arm off, my mouth flattening and brow arching. “I’m not going to let Mom walk in on me having sex with my boyfriend, Beau. Gross.”

He laughs, his eyes bright with humor. “I didn’t let her do it, Jesus, Cora. But she did walk in our house unannounced that day, and she hasn’t tried to set me up with her plant friends’ daughters anymore. So,” he says, shrugging and looking entirely too smug. “I’d say it worked out nicely.”

“Alright, everyone, let’s take our seats,” Mom says, clapping a few times to get everyone’s attention. “Time to eat.” She looks around the room, her cheeks rosy and her smile wide.

I catch Jasper’s eye, nodding toward the seats in the middle of the table. He strolls over, his ever-present smirk on his handsome face. We sit down next to each other, and I lean over, murmuring, “What were you and my dad talking about? He was using big hand gestures, which is usually reserved for only a handful of things.”

Jasper puts his right arm around me, leaning in and murmuring, “We were talking about your desserts, baby. He was telling me about some Black Forest volcano fudge thing that he swears you can’t tell is dairy-free.”

My heart swells at his words, a lump forming in my throat. I glance over at my dad, who's busy piling food onto his plate, completely oblivious to the impact of his casual praise.

"He really said that?" I ask softly, my voice thick with emotion.

Jasper nods, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my shoulder. "He went on and on about how talented you are, baby. Said he's never tasted anything like your desserts before, and that he's constantly blown away by your creativity in the kitchen."

I blink back the sudden tears, turning my face toward Jasper to give myself a moment to collect my emotions.

“So it seems like I might have competition as your biggest fan,” he muses.

I huff a laugh, but it’s all watery. I brush my lips across his stubbled cheek and murmur, “Thank you.”

He lowers his voice, our conversation quiet in the din of everyone chatting. “You can thank me later.”

“Thank you again, Mrs. Carter, for inviting me tonight,” Mason says, pulling me out of my Jasper-haze. He sinks into my sister’s empty chair.

Worry for my sister worms its way into my good mood, and I make a promise to myself to call her soon.

“Oh, please, Mason. I’ve told you to call me Hazel. You and Beau used to be thick as thieves, you’re like family. I’m just so glad you’re back in town now,” Mom replies with a grin. Her gaze darts from Mason to me before sliding to the man next to me. She hums a little under her breath, and I hate the way my chest pinches at the sound.

I’m twenty-eight years old and still, one small noise of derision from my mother sends me back decades. I fiddle with the edge of the embroidered white tablecloth. Indecision holds my tongue hostage.

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