Page 34 of His Custody

A fissure formed in his heart and he stuffed the voice screaming in his head into the gap. Yelling at her that it was in no way, shape or form her fault their families had been killed wouldn’t be helpful. He needed to listen to her. So he forced the words out, slow and measured even though he could barely breathe.

“Why do you think that?”

“He was my responsibility. I loved Gavin so much. He was the sweetest person alive, but she was right. I practically played fetch with him sometimes. I didn’t think of it that way, but—”

He grabbed her shoulder, harder than he meant to, but too much pressure on her arm wasn’t going to hurt as much as those voices inside her head. “Hey. Listen to me. Gavin loved you with all his happy-go-lucky heart. He was happiest when he was making you happy and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Jasper had never understood service—it wasn’t an aspect of kink that got him off. But he believed with everything he had it was as true a form of love as any other. He’d seen the devotion gleam in a man’s eye as he polished his mistress’s boots, the bliss glow on a submissive’s face as her master rested his feet on her back.

They got so much pleasure out of serving, from being of use. There could be satisfaction, fulfillment in that. Had it gone that deep for Gavin? Given time and some vocabulary, would he have seen Keyne as a mistress whose needs he was destined to meet? It wouldn’t have surprised Jasper a bit if he had.

“You were the same age, Keyne. If anyone was responsible for him, it was our parents and me. Maybe even your parents. Not you. And no matter whose responsibility he was, it was no one’s fault. Do you understand? It was an accident, pure and simple.” That had been the final verdict from law enforcement, and though it was hard to swallow, it was all he had. Even if he tossed and turned about it some nights, wondering if they’d missed something, he didn’t want Keyne doing the same so he focused on the matter at hand. “This girl, whoever the fuck told you that, is jealous. She’s jealous of what you had with Gavin, she’s jealous her boyfriend thinks you’re pretty. She’s in for a long life of disappointment and envy. It was cruel of her to say that. You don’t deserve it, and it’s not true. Do you understand me?”

“I do. In my brain. I know. But everywhere else...” Anguish colored her face. Turned her already pale complexion to ash, and he wanted to go on a rampage. Yell in the face of that thoughtless girl who’d hurt his Keyne, and make her feel even a fraction of the pain she’d caused. But he couldn’t, so he did what he could do. Which was talk to the person he was responsible for, who he’d pledged to care for and protect.

“I know. It hurts.”

“What was it Cain said to God about Abel? When he was being a smartass?”

“Am I my brother’s keeper?” Why on earth was she thinking about Bible stories right now?

“Yeah, that.”

“What made you think of that?”

“I was his keeper, Jas. I was his keeper and I let him down.”

She was curling in on herself. He could fight it, try to pry her open and leave her there, wounds gaping open, hoping the air would heal them. Would it be worth it? Watching her hurt that badly? At the moment he didn’t think so. Maybe in a while he would try again when the words weren’t so fresh in her mind. He’d be steady, solid, remind her every day it hadn’t been her fault, but in the end only she could choose what to believe. In the meantime...

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Tinker Bell. I don’t think Gavin would. I hope you’ll let yourself off the hook. It’s not going to happen today and not tomorrow, but if you need a reminder, you come see me. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. But for now, would it help to beat the crap out of some bags? I think Alice has a new sparring partner for you today if you’re up for it.”

She turned, anticipation making an overture in her eyes like the sun coming up over the horizon. There was a possibility she was going to be okay. “I think so.”

“Willing to try, are you?” he teased, propping up the side of his mouth into a smile that was way too fucking hard.

“Yeah. I’ll try.”

That had to be good enough for now.

Chapter Thirteen

January

Two months later he caught her looking up tattoos. Caught wasn’t the right word. Her door was open, it was at a time she knew he’d be getting home, and she was sitting at her desk.

“You know that counts as cutting, right?”

Keyne startled, her slim shoulders jumping, but she wasn’t embarrassed. She even smiled at him, something she hadn’t been doing enough. He wouldn’t be the douchebag to tell her to, though. She’d smile when she was good and fucking ready and she was ready now. He’d rather one genuine smile than ten thousand forced death grins any day. His wait had paid off. She was beautiful, even when she was exasperated with him. Maybe especially when she was exasperated. “I know. I was going to ask you. I have to anyway. I’m not eighteen.”

“A tattoo, huh? Why do you want a tattoo?”

“As a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?” Some kind of memorial of what she’d lost? That didn’t sit well with him. As far as he could tell, she didn’t require a reminder: it haunted her every moment.

“Every day I wake up and I wonder. If she was right, if it was my fault, if I could have done something about it. Some days it’s easy, I can say no almost the second I wake up. It wasn’t my fault, I had no control, it wouldn’t have mattered what I did or didn’t do. Some days it takes me longer, some days I never get to no at all. But the worst days are the ones I forget to ask.”

He knew those days. The ones when he had to coax her to do anything because she was barely alive. It was like she had to think about every breath. To breathe or not to breathe, that was the question. So far, she had chosen to breathe, but it was clear to him it was an active choice. Keyne had lost so much of the ground she’d gained when that immature, rancorous schoolgirl had called Gavin her pet, even two months after it had happened. “So I thought if I could remind myself to ask, it might help.”

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