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.

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.

“Jas. Get me the fuck out of here. I wanna go to the ranch.”

“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.”

I want to ask her how it tastes. Instead, I snap. I point at the floor beneath my feet and say, “Lose that fucking ring and crawl.”

“Did you like crawling for me?” I ask. She smiles, but there’s a flash of sadness in her eyes. An instant shot to my chest.

“Jasper, it feels like I’ve been crawling after you for years. This is nothing new for me.”