Page 80 of Jasper

When the bottle’s empty, he sets it aside carefully and sits on the edge of the bed, close enough that our knees brush. His hand finds mine, fingers curling gently.

“I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I don’t have the strength.

He leans in and presses his forehead to mine. “You’re never leaving my sight again, rainbow.”

A protest flickers on the edge of my consciousness, but it fades just as quickly. I’m too tired. Too sore. Too relieved to be here, in his bed, with his warmth surrounding me.

So I don’t argue.

I let my eyes fall shut, the ache in my body slowly giving way to sleep.

His hand strokes my hair softly.

And the last thing I hear before drifting off is his voice, low and fierce. “I love you, baby girl. So fucking much.”

29

JASPER

It’s been three days since the accident.

Three days since I pulled her limp, bloodied body from that car.

And I haven’t slept.

Not for more than a minute or two, anyway. Every time I close my eyes, I see the horror again. The twisted metal. The blood. The way her head lolled against my chest as I carried her out of that wreckage. The way her fingers twitched once and then stopped.

The worst fucking moment of my life.

I sit in the armchair beside our bed, elbows braced on my knees, hands clasped tightly. The low hum of her IV pump is the only sound in the room besides the soft, shallow rhythm of her breathing.

She’s been sleeping soundly pretty much since the accident, thanks to the pain killers our doctor put in her IV. She’s finally starting to heal.

But I can’t.

I can’t stop seeing it. Feeling it.

“Daddy?”

Her voice is a rasp in the dark, barely audible, but it cuts through the haze in my head like a blade in the same way it’s done every time she’s woken up.

I sit up straight, instantly leaning toward her. “I’m here, baby,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

She blinks slowly, her lashes fluttering like she’s still half-dreaming. “Will you come lie with me?”

I hesitate. She’s still so bruised, her ribs tender, her arms wrapped in gauze. The thought of hurting her by accident makes my chest twist.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she whispers back, reaching her hand toward me. “I need you, Daddy. Please.”

Fuck.

I rise slowly, toe off my boots, and ease onto the bed, careful not to jostle her. The moment I stretch out beside her, she scoots closer, then melts against me, tucking her head under my chin.

My arms wrap around her automatically.

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