Page 50 of Crossroads
“Please.” I’m reaching for the next rung on the ladder when his garbled plea comes, and I stop. My shoulders hunch, and I huff.
He’s scared. He’s actually afraid for me, and even though I’m pissed off and jealous and okay maybe a little drunk... I can’t do that to him. I slowly make my way down the ladder until my feet hit the ground.
I expect him to be happy, but he gathers my shirt collar and shoves me back against the water towel, snarling, “What the hell is the matter with you? You get jealous, so you decide to get yourself killed?”
“I’m alive,” I say and push him back, smoothing out my collar when his hands release me, then look over at Millie, who doesn’t seem all that surprised by Jasper’s outburst.
“You could have died or worse, got yourself hurt. Did you even think about that? About one mistake ruining the rest of your life?”
Oh.
Shit.
He looks away from me, but I can still see the despair there. Him thinking about his father and his injury. About all the shit he’s still going through because of one injury. “I’m sorry,” I breathe, and I mean it.
“Get in the truck,” he says, his voice cracking, but I don’t argue. I walk over to the truck that’s still running and let Millie sit in the middle before climbing into the passenger seat.
Jasper drives us home in complete silence, and I start to sober up, feeling like a total asshole. When we all get out of the truck, Millie surprises the hell out of me by wrapping her arms around my waist. “Don’t do that again.”
“I won’t,” I say, hugging her back a little awkwardly before she releases me with a sly smile. “Have fun, boys. Don’t keep the animals up too late.”
With that, she looks over at the barn and then at both of us and winks before going into the house and closing the door behind her.
I turn to look at Jasper and raise one brow. He shakes his head. “I didn’t tell her, but Millie is way smarter than all of us.”
That’s true. I’m not surprised she figured us out, especially after the way Jasper manhandled me at the water tower. I wonder if he’s forgiven me yet because just the thought of it makes my dick hard.
I look at the scowl on his face and shrink back a little. Guess not. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Not here.” He takes my hand and leads me into the barn. We go up to his loft apartment, and he closes the door but sadly isn’t getting naked. I sigh and take a seat next to him when he sits down on his bed.
“Why did you do that? How can you be so reckless?”
“It’s just kind of how I am, I guess.” The moment is sobering, and I feel slightly ashamed. Something I’m used to feeling but never showing. Every time I’d get into trouble back home, I’d double down. Never apologize. Make it seem like I didn’t care how mad they were. How disappointed.
But I really care about Jasper’s disappointment. Too much not to show it.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I guess I had too much to drink, and it looked fun.”
It’s clear he’s not buying it. His brow is hitched up high and his scowl only deepening. “You weren’t having fun. You were jealous.”
“Of what?” I laugh coldly. “You and your perfect little girlfriend? That was always the plan, right?”
“You’re being a prick,” he says, his voice low and serious.
I don’t like it. “I’m being honest,” I say, my eyes snapping to his. “This thing with us is hot. I fucking love exploring your body and making you come, but it has an end date. You know it. And so do I.”
He moves closer to me on the bed, his expression intense. “I don’t want Lucy.” His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and he brings our foreheads together, breathing hard. “It was just a dance.”
“With the girl you love,” I say, thinking about the bowling alley. About the passion. How hurt he was. How much he missed her.
He shakes his head, his forehead brushing brutally against mine. “I don’t know if what we had was ever love. She tossed meaway so easily. She wants a different life from me. She doesn’t want me.”
“She’s an idiot,” I say softly without venom, but it hurts how deeply I feel that sentiment. She could have him. She could’ve had all of him forever, and he’d have been so good to her.
“I don’t love her.” He says it firmly, his hand curling around the back of my neck and squeezing.
I want him to say the words he’s not. The words I’m too chicken to ask him to say. To say myself.
