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The truth is we only have control over a finite number of things in life. The rest is a fucking crap shoot. — Kandi Steiner
I catch my mom staring at us, happy and sad all at once. I look like my mom, and Violet looks like hers. Except Violet’s mom died, and my mom lost her sister.
“That’s Jasper. He’s one of us now.” I turn to her, eyebrow quirked, hands on my hips, trying to play it cool, like I’m not too interested, but not really knowing how to achieve that either. “What do you mean?” She rolls up to sit cross-legged on the bed and shrugs. “He needed a family so we took him in. I don’t know all the details. There was an accident. Beau brought him here one day last fall. I like to think of him as one more stinky brother. You can just think of him like a new cousin.”
What I don’t realize is that I’ll be fighting the urge to stare at Jasper Gervais for years to come.
I don’t know why Sloane and I have always been so adamant that we’re friends and not cousins. If someone tried to tell me that Beau, or Rhett, or Cade wasn’t my brother, I’d write them off immediately. Those men are my brothers.
Without thinking twice, I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her narrow shoulders. She’s all tense and riled. I swear I can almost feel her vibrating with it. “I’m not judging you, Sunny.” Apparently, this isn’t the time for childhood nicknames. “Don’t call me that.” Her voice cracks as she presses her forehead to my chest, like she always has, and I slide my palm down the back of her hair, cupping the base of her skull. Like I always have.
Plus, I remember how Sloane looks at a man when she really wants him. And she isn’t looking at her fiancé the way she used to look at me. I’m more pleased about that than I should be.
“Raise your voice at that woman one more time and I will drop you like a stone, Woodcock.”
What kind of man stops in the middle of breaking me out of my sham of a wedding to rub my sore feet? A damn good one.
“What’s wrong?” I ask instantly because it’s one of those moments when you can just tell. The house is too dark, too quiet. My uncle, who is always all smiles and warm gazes, looks gutted. Harvey doesn’t comment on my bare feet or ask why I’m here. Instead, his eyes latch onto Jasper’s and he says, “Beau is missing.”
Beau is my best friend. We’ve been joined at the hip for years. He’s the kid who saved me and brought me here—no questions asked. He’s my brother in every way that counts. A special forces soldier with a personality the size of his doesn’t just go missing.
And watching her comfort Harvey right now, I let myself admit that the way I love Sloane might not be how one friend loves another at all.
“WWBD,” she says with a sure nod. “Pardon?” “What would Beau do? We both know he’d drink the beer.”
I chance a look at Sloane now to see how she might react to my dark question. But as usual, she doesn’t shy away from my darkness—after all, she’s my Sunny. She chases away the dark just by being herself.
Her words sweet boy bounce around in my head. Jasper has always been a sweet boy. But god, he grew up to be a damn good man.
“You always look good to me. Concealer, no concealer. Fancy dress, Harvey’s sweat suit. Smooth hair”—his hand waves over me with a low chuckle—“whatever this is. It doesn’t matter. You’re you.” I swallow and try my best not to melt onto the floor into a squishy pile of mush. “That’s probably what you tell all the girls, Gervais.” “Nah, Sunny. You’re my only girl.”
The dating scene had turned into my own real-life version of one of those Wish.com memes. I kept placing an order for Jasper Gervais and the universe kept sending me these laughable cheap-ass knockoffs.
One cheek twitches at the fact that she resorted to swearing at me. There’s something satisfying about proper little Sloane having a sailor’s mouth.
Except Jenny doesn’t know these hand signals, and she must mistake it for a wave, or me ushering her over. Or maybe it’s because the sun is low and in her eyes. Either way, I see her grinning at me from the other side of the highway as her wrist twists the throttle. I scream at her to stop. Dad lurches forward as though he can grab her and stop her. But it’s too late. And I’ll never stop feeling responsible.
Because I’ve been staring at Jasper Gervais since I was ten years old, and suddenly . . . he’s staring back.
Jasper: I don’t like talking to people. Sloane: You talk to me. Jasper: You’re not people. Sloane: Lmao. What am I then? Jasper: My person.
I forced myself to stare at the e-reader on my lap. Pure torture. I stared at the same page of the same book for the entire ten minutes, like my ability to read grew wings and flew out of my head at the mere thought of him naked and soapy.
I’m already bad at pool and having Jasper imitating fucking me from behind in public definitely isn’t going to make me any better.
She holds up a purple squeeze bottle and a green glass tub of something and shakes them at me like I’m stupid. “I’ll drink your water if you give me a facial.” Gotta say, the first place my head goes is not to beauty products.
“I can’t ever lose you,” he growls. “You won’t,” I reply quietly, right as the tip of his nose traces the shell of my ear. “I might.” “Nev—” Before I can say never, he cuts me off with, “Because I think I’m about to fuck everything up between us.” And then he kisses me.
“You’re not alone. I’m right there with you.” I let out a breath so big that my body sags when it leaves me. “But this isn’t the time or place. It’s not safe. And you are too fucking precious to take chances with.” Fuck my safety. If I died riding Jasper Gervais in the driver’s seat of this truck, I might be fine with that. What a way to go. Out with a bang, so to speak.
“Why do you have to be so fucking agreeable, Jasper?” “Because I’m your friend, Sunny. Nothing will ever change that. If you need to bitch about something, even if that something is me, I’ll be that person for you.”
“You’re not going back to him.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Maybe I will. You don’t tell me what to do, Jasper.” Not yet. But I will. “You’re not.” She spins, her voice cutting across the room like she’s thrown a dart right at my chest. “And why not?” “Because he sucks the life out of you!” She rears back, clearly shocked by the volume of my voice. “And I want to breathe it back in.”
“Times have changed, Sloane. I’m not scared anymore. You’re not my fucking friend. You’re just mine.”
What little girl wants to think her dad wouldn’t have her best interests at heart?
Jasper is nothing like the men I grew up around. He’s raw and dirty and loves so hard he hurts himself in the process. And I want to know what that fucking tattoo is.
“Shut the door.” Pump. “And put that tight little ass up on the counter.” Pump. My cheeks flame. “We both know you want to watch.”
“I’m talking about the tattoo, Jas.” He glances up now, seeing where I’m pointing, and lifts his left arm. I get a full view of the tiny ballerina inked on his skin. It looks like the ones inside a jewelry box I’d been thinking about earlier. “Oh.” He sighs. “That.”
“Why?” He knows I mean why does he have a ballerina inked on him when the rest are patterns—scales, lines, and geometric shapes that remind me of a kaleidoscope. His Adam’s apple bobs. “Because I missed your first professional dance.” He clears his throat, staring at my hands and avoiding my eyes. “I wanted to be there so badly after all the times you’d been there for me, so I went and did something that night to commemorate it in my own way.”
“See, Sloane? You can wear someone else’s ring, but we both know you’ve always been mine.”
They found him. He’s safe. They found him. He’s safe. They found him. He’s safe. The words echo in my brain. If I repeat them enough times, they might actually sink in. I feel the wetness from Violet’s tears. The little sister I still have.
I see Cole, Violet’s husband, approaching us. Appearing all dark and foreboding—but he isn’t. Well, unless you’re the dumb sucker who slighted his wife, then he has the same switch Beau does as a military member. The switch that flips and they turn into the man who can kill you with their bare hands. He gives me a nod as his hand slides over the back of Violet’s head, and I itch to touch Sloane with the same comfort, the same possession.
A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “I always wondered when you two would notice the other.” My head flips to her. “Pardon?” “You and Jasper. You’ve both been so in love with each other for so long. I saw that hug. Plus, I saw the look on his face that day when I first spilled the beans about your engagement. And on your wedding day?” She snorts. “I think he was looking for a reason to barge in there and break you out. Poor emotionally stunted idiot that he is.”
Billie hums thoughtfully from behind me. Like she’s about to offer profound advice. “You should demand he fuck you.” I snort, and a different type of tears well in my eyes. They’re the good kind that come from laughing and trying to hold it back. I glance at the rearview mirror into the back seat. “It worked for me,” Mira says with a feline smile on her lips. “Ew. Don’t tell me these things about my brother, please.” Nadia turns away and stares out the window, a look of exaggerated disgust on her face. “You could do what I did and just drive him insane until he snaps.” Billie pipes up again.
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“Or just do what I did and make him so jealous he loses his mind, bangs on your door, and then bangs you on the kitchen counter,” Billie adds.
Suddenly I don’t feel so bad about everything anymore. Everyone I love is safe and content. Violet has a happy little crew here. They found Beau. Things between Jasper and me are messy right now, but . . . it’s us. We always end up back together somehow. We just need to stop fighting it.
Mira’s husband, Stefan, cooked us a massive, gourmet meal. Over dinner everyone in Billie and Vaughn’s expansive house clearly shared my feeling of relief. Vaughn cracked jokes that lightened the mood considerably. Cole and Griffin were quiet but friendly. The sense of family between all the friends warmed my heart.
Billie leans over and whispers in my ear, “That cottage has become known as the Love Shack around here.”
“I feel like I could crumble under the weight of not wanting to disappoint you. I’m paralyzed by my fear of losing you.”
“It’s dark. Let’s stop here again for the night.” Jasper flicks the signal light to turn into Rose Hill,
When I get close enough to see the screen, my chest cracks wide open. Harvey is sitting beside Beau and they’re both grinning back at Sloane. The closer I get, I can see how thin Beau looks, that his expression is a bit drawn. But he’s there. Breathing. Talking. Alive.
Harvey’s grin is just a little too wide when he says, “Y’all went and made that kissing cousins saying a real-life thing.”
Beau clears his throat. “Some minor burns.” He gestures to his legs. “I might need a few months. Then I’ll be able to take you.” I notice the IV line that disappears at the top of his hand. “What’s the deal?” “Gotta stay here for a bit. Then they’ll be able to transfer me home. All you complainers will be happy to know that my days moonlighting as James Bond have ended.”
“Where’s your hat?” I blink once, putting his question together. I reach up and run a palm over my hair to check for it. Wearing my team hat has been a part of my identity for the better part of my life. “I don’t know. I guess I forgot to put it on.”
It also feels good when I slide my hand down and take a big handful of her Levi’s-clad ass while winking over my shoulder at that red blinking light. Because I know Sterling Woodcock will check these tapes.
