Page 19 of His Custody

The first night had been the worst. She’d sobbed and clawed at him, but he’d held firm though it killed him. He’d gotten her as far as her bed and then she lost it. Fell to her knees and clutched at his trousers with her small hands burying her face in the wool. For a second, there was something her pleading posture and the heave of her shoulders as she cried that piqued something other than misery.

That was when he knew he couldn’t give in. Because he couldn’t even afford a hint of wanting her. And what the hell kind of sick bastard wanted a girl who was trembling in fear anyway? Not him. Role-playing with willing partners or tears from begged-for pain were one thing, but actual fear made his stomach riot.

He gripped her by the shoulders and hauled her up, shook her. Shook her harder until she looked at him, face a mess with tears and wild hair plastered to her cheeks. She was so... so... needy. She needed him. No one had ever neededhim, Jasper.

Despite being a rule-bending borderline fuckup, he’d also tried to be the kind of guy who would bust up a fight before the cops got called, and step in between drunk, rude jackasses and the women they wouldn’t leave alone. He’d tried to teach Gavin that those were things a man should do.

This was different though. He’d always picked partners who would demand the bare minimum from him, but there was something about how intensely she needed him. Despite the exhaustion and the marrow-deep wish she wouldn’t be so miserable, a part of him relished being the one who could help her, provide comfort. It was satisfying in a way he wanted to push from his head, because it felt too close to when he coaxed a partner through a deep scene. Not always, but most of the time, those scenes had ended with forceful sex and mind-blowing orgasms for all involved. The thought made anger flood him, rage.

What the hell kind of god would do this? Take everything from this girl and then shove her into his life, into his lap? It was torturous for both of them. Was this a test? Had he really done so many horrible things in his life he deserved to be tortured like this? To have this beautiful, needy girl in front of him and not be able to handle her the only way he knew how?

Sarah’s petty whines and petulance had grated on him in the end. She could replace him with any given peg, hire someone else to play the role. The difference was clear: Keyne needed him, Jasper. No one else would do. But no matter how much that got his motor running, flushed his system with this sick pride, he wouldn’t impose his needs on her. He would put her above himself, always.

“Keyne. Listen to me. Listen.” Her eyes went wide at his sharp tone, his fingers digging hard into her biceps. She sniffed and stared at him with those big, olive eyes. “You cannot sleep in my bed anymore. It’s not going to happen. I shouldn’t have allowed it in the first place.”

“But—”

“I know it’s hard—”

“Jasper, please...” Her chin trembled and she tried to reach for him. “Please, Jasper, I need you, pl—”

Hearing that kicked him in the head, and he was so close to giving in so she wouldn’t be so godawful sad anymore. But then images of McCarthy showing up on his doorstep to put her on a plane to Miami or to place her with a foster family followed by an investigation into him for sexual abuse which would of course be covered by all the papers because when you had as much money as he did, shit like this was news. He wouldn’t do that to her, any of it. No matter how much she hated him in this moment, it would be better in the long run. At least that’s what he told himself so he could find the strength to refuse her.

“For Christ’s sake. Keyne, I said no. That should be enough for you. But in case it’s not, do you understand if someone finds out about this and it gets back to Mr. McCarthy or Judge Pollard, they’re going to take you away from me? They’re going to come here and drag you out of my house kicking and screaming and there’s not going to be a goddamn thing I can do about it. I’ll get you back one way or another, but god, don’t make me do that. For once in your life, stop being so fucking stubborn and do what you’re asked.”

She went pliant in his arms, tears rushing down her face. “I didn’t think,” she muttered.

“I know you didn’t, sweetheart, I know.” He let go of her arms, grimacing at the red marks circling them, not far below the scar Dr. Ettleson had assured them would fade. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to mark her. Fuck knewthatwouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Instead of being accused of sexual misconduct, he’d get nailed for beating her. What a goddamn mess.

He took her in his arms and held her close while she sniffed.I know you didn’t. I have to think for both of us right now.When she’d calmed, she climbed into her bed and let him tuck her in, quilt up to her chin while her red hair splashed across the pillow.

They couldn’t keep doing this because it was killing them both. He had to think of something else, and fast, before she ended up in his bed again. That was something he needed to stop from happening at all costs.

***

Bedtime. It was the best and worst part of her day. Best because Jasper would sit with her, sometimes read to her or pet her hair. The closeness reminded her of Gavin, but Gavin had been a restless, light sleeper though fast to fall asleep. He’d never eased her to sleep this way, instead she would spoon him and he would kiss her wrists while he threaded their fingers together in front of him.

Their families had been so close, sleepovers had been a fact of life for as long as she could remember. While some parents would’ve forbidden it after their kids reached a certain age, theirs never had. The O’Connells and the Anderssons had been casual about sex, probably because they expected Keyne and Gavin to be with each other. The first time she’d had a prescription for birth control, she’d been fourteen. Everyone had just assumed.

So many nights she’d lain awake next to Gavin, her mind whirling, wishing for him to turn around and hold her, maybe keep the thoughts at bay so she could rest. Though she’d been tempted to wake him—it wouldn’t take much and he wouldn’t have minded—she never had. He’d be there in the morning, waiting for her, excited about the day.

She loved that Jasper shepherded her to sleep, took her mind off all the bad thoughts and distracted her until the tiredness overtook her. It would be better if she could stay with him. She missed sleeping in his bed so much, his steely warmth surrounding her, the way his arm curled around her possessively. But when he’d pointed out why that couldn’t happen anymore, she couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. Not being together to sleep was bad, but getting taken away from him would be a thousand times worse. She could behave, she could be good for him. She would do that, and he would keep her safe and that’s how things would be.

She made her way from the den where she’d been curled up in one of his big chairs to her room, peeking in the library and the office, looking for Jasper. But he wasn’t there. Her heart started to race and she pinched herself in case she was already having a bad dream, but she wasn’t. She was awake and she couldn’t—

When she rounded the corner, there he was. Standing in front of her door with a box in his hands. A jewelry box if she were a judge of such things, and she was. Gavin wasn’t much for expensive presents. They were rich kids and money meant essentially nothing. Time and effort, things you couldn’t pay someone else to take care of for you, that was the currency they traded in. Silly notes, playlists, a potato shaped like a poodle; these were the ways they said I love you. But her mom had loved jewelry and her dad had loved her mom, so jewelry boxes hadn’t been uncommon in the O’Connell household.

“What’s that?”

He held it out to her and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say Jasper looked sheepish. Jasper! But his voice was its familiar, workaday gruff self when he said, “It’s for you.”

She took it from him, brushing his blunt fingertips with hers, noting how small her narrow fingers and nails looked next to his. Why had she never noticed how big Jasper was? Maybe because he’d kept his distance. Not just from her, from them all. He was like a planet with an erratic orbit.

She blinked up at him and he nodded. Given permission, she cracked the box and inside was a bracelet. A star dangled off a thick chain. And the star was engraved—with her name.

“Turn it over,” he urged when she looked at him, her mouth gaping open.

Second star to the right, straight on till morning.

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