Page 76 of Born in the Spring

Gary’s stare hardens to me as soon as I walk through the door, and Jasper notices too, as he reaches back to make sure I’m still close, his hand hovering like a shield.

“Elara,” Gary greets, with a tip-of-the-hat smile, there one second and gone the next. “Got a minute?”

“No,” Jasper answers for me, and I study him, trying to determine a reason in the harsh lines of his face, only deepening the longer he looks at his father. Knowing Gary, he just wants to share his condolences and give a goodbye, having the last word on both.

“It’s okay,” I say to Jasper, and he meets my eyes on a blink, his lips parting with a protest that I argue with an assuring brush of my hand that makes him finally drop his to his side.

Gary’s focus falls to the gesture, then pins back on me, and with one more moment of hesitation, Jasper leaves us and walks over to Amie.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with my son.” Gary’s tone is careful, as deliberate as his scrutiny, with enough sinceritywithin the words to sit heavy on my heart.

I almost offer him a smile, but my lips now refuse to turn that way for him. He’s talking about Shepherd, but my mind goes to Jasper, as his own dad’s should’ve done much more often.

“They did,” I tell him on that thought, and he eyes me down his nose with a judgier scrutiny that makes those my parting words as I take a step to check on Amie.

He blocks my path, the move quick and subtle. “Was that your plan?”

I snap him a questioning look, my pulse skipping athisquestioning. “What—”

He grabs my arm, just above the elbow, as he leans down at me, and my instincts lean me away. “I know about that night.”

That night, said in anyone’s voice but mine, in relation to what it means to me, is like a hiss through my body, sharp and stinging.

I try to yank out of his grasp, but it’s not me who gets him to let go.

A flash of green rushes my periphery, and Jasper’s hand clamps down on Gary’s wrist, his knuckles going white.

“Get your hand off her.” His tone is just as careful and deliberate as his father’s, but much more threatening, his vise grip more promising of injury.

Gary releases me, but he doesn’t remove himself from my space, and Jasper shoves him, the next moments all happening at once—Amie calls out Jasper’s name as she hurries over, a panicked flash of blue now in my periphery, as my own panic latches my hold onto his shirt, though neither he nor Gary attempt another move. Jasper stays with me and Gary gives an assurance to Amie with a raise of his hands.

They’re slow to lower as he focuses back on me. “You were the reason Shepherd was drinking.”

I feel a tug from Jasper’s shirt and I tighten my fists, pressing them into his back. His voice rumbles, then Amie’s, but their words don’t register as my head torments me with Gary’s, as I try to see him as just a father who lost a child, as I try to see this as a grief response, but. . .

My gaze goes hazy locked with his, his rimmed eyes and red stained cheeks probably a mirror image of mine.

“You made him a fool,” he chokes out, and I grimace at his scalding blame. “You strung him along for years just to get him killed.You’vesplit this family—”

Jasper’s shirt tears from my weakening hands, and I reach for him again, fisting air as he bolts toward his father—Amie steps between them, and the heaviness in my chest weighs me to this spot.

My eyes close against a pulsing in my ears, this ripple effect from Shepherd’s death overwhelming to a point that I can’t think. My body is clenching in objection to more guilt.

I’ve learned ways of combating these feelings. But everything is still breaking down around us, and I feel like I’m, again, not far behind.

A voice says my name, warm hands cupping my face, and I open my eyes to Jasper’s concerned and observing gaze. I blink, the haze still there clearing in the moment I glance around to see we’re alone.

“Where’s Amie?” My thoughts spin over what she heard Gary accusing. “Is she—”

“She’s fine,” Jasper says, unbothered, so I’m assured she is, as his attention is still attached to and searching over me. “She’s dealing withhim. How’s your arm?”

“Fine.” I repeat his word low as his hand comes up for a gentle test touch, and when I don’t show any signs of pain, he half relaxes. Iwouldtry to keep any pain to myself, but I actually am fine. Myarmis fine anyway.

And Jasper can see that the rest is not, with his protectiveness, and the way his eyes are searching for something in mine again. But not for something put there by me.

“He’s full of shit, Elara.”

“How do you know?” I ask him through a deflated feeling in my chest, all my remaining breaths exhaling with the question. “I could’ve stopped him too,” I repeat myself now before he can answer. “How come you never asked me why?”

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