Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)

by Elsie Silver

What I don’t realize is that I’ll be fighting the urge to stare at Jasper Gervais for years to come.

“I mean, you look beautiful,” I rush out, grimacing when I note her eyes widening. “You always do. You just don’t look . . . happy?”

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.

“Maybe if I drink enough of these”—I lift the six-pack, feeling a little loopy—“I’ll invite you to join me.”

“That’s probably what you tell all the girls, Gervais.” “Nah, Sunny. You’re my only girl.”

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.

“Times have changed, Sloane. I’m not scared anymore. You’re not my fucking friend. You’re just mine.”