Page 120 of Broken Pact

JASPER

I’m no stranger to The Coffee Shop. It’s convenient, close to the garage and clubhouse, but I don’t think I’ve been such a regular customer before now. Every day, like fucking clockwork, I drive the two blocks to the cafe and pick up a latte for my girl. Most of the time, I grab myself another Americano, because I’m never really going to turn down a good espresso.

And then I hand-deliver it to her bakery in Avalon Falls.

Hawke called me pussy-whipped the other day, but when I only shrugged and grinned at him in response, he muttered something about me being a lucky bastard and got back to work.

I thought shit might be weird with him, after our little run in last week at my house. But he never brought it up, so I didn’t either. He’s not acting any differently. And as long as I don’t let myself think about the fact that he can definitely picture my girl’s cunt now, I’m good.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of being watched too. But I like how fucking hot it makes my girl even more.

I shake my head, scattering the thoughts before they really start taking shape. It’s too early to start thinking of all the ways I’m going to ruin Coraline tonight. And on all the different surfaces. My girl likes a little variety.

It’s strange, really. I’ve never been the kind of guy to settle down or share my space with anyone. But with her, it’s different.

It’s as easy as breathing.

Weeks ago, she came over under the guise of a broken car and worries over a serial killer. But her car wasn’t really broken, and there’s been no update on if we even have a serial killer in Avalon Falls. I still think the last two victims, Slater and Fell, are unrelated to the other ones. I’m betting it’s just a fucked-up coincidence.

I didn’t really care about the excuses though. I was happy to have her around. I still am.

Which is maybe the weirdest part about this whole thing. I keep waiting for the day to come where I’m irritated or annoyed with someone being in my space. But it’s not happening. It hasn’t been that long, and everyone would tell me to just wait, that moment is coming.

But I don’t fucking think it will.

I think I could wake up next to Coraline Carter for the rest of my life, and it wouldn’t be enough. I’d have to chase her ass down in the next life, and the one after that too.

Now, I understand what Nova was talking about last year when he tried to describe his feelings for Coraline’s cousin, Evangeline. The way he lit up when she was around, how he said everything else seemed to fade into the background.

I finally fucking get it. The peace she brings me by just being around. The joy of having someone who makes you want to come home.

But a dark cloud of secrecy hangs above my head, following me and trying to overshadow every perfect moment with my girl. It grows with every day I don’t tell her about the bakery. I know I need to, but I haven’t found the right time yet.

I pull along the curb, a prime parking spot in front of The Coffee Shop on Main Street. The unofficial neon trio of gossip stands by the entrance—Mrs. Matthews, Mrs. Shepley, and Mrs. Weatherby.

I hop out of my car, closing the door and calling out, “Mornin’ ladies.” As one, they turn toward me.

“Well, would you look at that? Someone’s right on time,” Mrs. Matthews says with a grin.

“You keepin’ tabs on me, Mrs. Matthews?” I tease her with a wink. “Loving the blue today, by the way.”

Their windbreakers are complimentary today, all three of them wearing different shades of neon blue. I honestly didn’t know so much neon variation existed until they started wearing it every day this summer.

“I told you,” Mrs. Weatherby says, looking smugly from one friend to the other. “Blue is our color.”

Mrs. Shepley leans forward, cupping her ear with her hand. “Gals, do you hear that?”

Mrs. Weatherby and Mrs. Matthews lean forward, tilting their ears toward Mrs. Shepley.

“Wedding bells,” Mrs. Shepley flashes me a shark-like grin.

Like it’s some kind of coordinated move, the other two lean back, twin grins on their faces as well.

I shake my head, my brows raised. “I’m lost.”

“Well,” Mrs. Shepley begins, tapping her pink long nails against her coffee cup. “I heard our favorite baker moved in with you, so I assumed you’re going to do the right thing and make an honest woman out of her.” She blinks at me, this innocent expression on her face like she’s just repeating what she heard and not starting a rumor herself.

I laugh when I get her meaning, shaking my head. “One step at a time, ladies. Right now, I’m just focusing on keeping her happy with coffee.”

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