Page 13 of Jasper
I didn’t tell anyone in my family, particularly my parents, because they would be over the moon. The last thing I want is to watch them grieve their first grandkid if Tessa Grant refuses to be a surrogate for me, like she was gonna do for the other couple. I didn’t tell a living soul. I don’t want anyone to know my personal business.
I roll the throttle back and let the bike idle at the curb as I kill the engine. I double-check to make sure I’m at the right address.
Yeah, this is it alright.
I sit there gazing at her house, and something shrivels up in my chest.
Her place is in bad shape. It looks like the house that time forgot—two cracked porch steps, a sagging gutter pulling down the right side of the house, and the mail stuffed in a crooked box.The exterior paint is peeling, even the roof has seen better days. It’s gonna take a lot to fix this up so it’s livable.
It’s the kind of house most people’s eyes would roam right over, but I can’t not see it—because the woman carrying my kid lives here. And that means that one day soon, my child will live here, at least part-time.
I’m about to get off my bike and knock on the door when my phone rings.
I answer, expecting it to be one of my brothers with intel on the Hyenas. “Yeah?”
A woman’s voice speaks, soft, wary. “Are you… Jasper Jackson?”
My stomach knots. “That depends on who’s calling.”
When she doesn’t speak, I shift my weight, eyes scanning the porch, the door, the windows. “You Tessa Grant?”
She clears her throat. “Yes.”
“Then yeah,” I say, low and steady. “I’m Jasper. I’m outside your house right now.”
She exhales nervously. “How did you find me?”
I don’t dare lie to this woman because I want to build trust with her. “It didn’t take much.”
I get a short silence from her end again. I don’t pressure her, because I understand that she’s in an uncomfortable situation and probably needs a minute to get her head together.
Finally, she says, “I’m not letting you in. If you’re here to fight about anything, you can go ahead and leave right now.”
“I’m not here to fight,” I say sincerely. “Not with you. I just want to talk this out.”
There is another long pause. Then she tells me, “Stay there. I’ll come out and talk to you.”
A smile lights up my face as the line goes dead. This is going much better than I expected. I pocket the phone, get off my bike, and come closer to her front porch. I hang back just enough to give her space when she opens the door. Not wanting her to feel crowded by me, I cross my arms and wait.
Thirty seconds later, the front door creaks open.
She’s smaller than I expected. Slim. Tired around the eyes. Wearing jeans that hang a little loose at the waist and a plain T-shirt that saysSunshine Is Free. It’s faded like it’s been through a hundred hard washes.
She’s holding two plastic bottles of water, ice-cold, with the condensation dripping down her fingers.
“I figured you’d be thirsty,” she says, handing me a bottle.
I nod once, take the bottle. “I am. Thanks.”
She doesn’t sit right away. Her eyes track my tattoos and the patch on my cut. It’s been a couple of months since I got ran off the road by those Hyena assholes, so at least I can ride and move without limping my ass off. I give her time to look her fill, knowing that I don’t present well to regular folks, especially women. They sometimes give me a wide berth. I’m made for club whores more so than nice ladies in the community.
Eventually, she lowers herself onto the top step. I stay back and drop into a squat on the sidewalk.
We sit like that for a long second, sipping our water. We’re strangers alright but linked together by someone else’s actions. Neither of us planned for that baby growing inside her, but I sure as hell can’t ignore it. I take another long drink and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. Then I ask the only question that matters.
“What do you want to do about the fact that you’re carrying my baby, Tessa?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps her hands wrapped around the water bottle like her life depends on it. She finally says, “I don’t know what I want.”
