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“Your dad is an asshole. He cares about himself. His business. Optics. Not your happiness. You deserve better.” I could do better. That’s what I really want to say. That’s what I’ve realized sitting here
I’m sure everyone thinks I’m over him, but that’s only because I’ve become an expert at hiding my feelings. He’s consumed every corner of me since I first laid eyes on him, and he’s never looked at me as more than a little sister.
I shouldn’t be salivating over him on what was supposed to be my wedding day. But salivating over Jasper Gervais is part of my personality at this point.
I stop and take in the cooler shelves. And there it is. Like a glowing beacon before me. Buddyz Best Beer. It’s really the Z that seals the deal for me. It’s so unnecessary. So improper. The cans look thin—cheap—with a poorly drawn cartoon basset hound on the front.
Spending my life barefoot in the kitchen as Mrs. Woodcock sounds fucking terrible. I’d rather be barefoot in a dirty liquor store with you.”
He sounds like he doesn’t believe me. “Jas. Have you seen this translucent skin? The nice blue vein that runs under my right eye? Concealer is my best friend.” “I thought I was your best friend.” The statement is so simple and yet it winds me.
I stare back at the shelf full of different cuts of black underwear. “Booty short, bikini cut, or thong? Or does your rule of everything looks good on me apply here too?” I blurt out in an attempt at making this less awkward than it is in my head right now. I fail. Things are officially not less awkward. Jasper makes a low groaning noise and avoids eye contact. “It applies,” is his strangled reply.
And then I give in to that little voice in my head. The one that tells me I need her. I draw her body against mine, my arms wrap her up, and our legs tangle together instantly.
“I don’t know. Here. With you.” I gesture between us. “I keep forgetting about everything else in my life. Everyone else. But when we’re apart I constantly come back to y—you know what? Never mind. Just ignore me.”
I nod and twist my hands on the wheel, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her, to tell her how proud I am of her. To tell her she could be mine instead.
I wonder what she’s thinking about. I wonder if she feels as shredded as I do—as tattered and torn.
“Jasper Gervais! You did not just do that to me!” “I did. And you squealed like a pig.” She gasps in faux offense. “Take that back!” “Okay, fine. You squealed like a piglet. Far more high-pitched and lady-like than a plain old hog.”
Because the way Jasper is staring at me right now has my stomach twisting and thighs clenching. I return to gazing out the window at the black lake and try to gather my thoughts. Because I’ve been staring at Jasper Gervais since I was ten years old, and suddenly . . . he’s staring back.
Holding his navy-blue gaze, I take a deep swig, and goddamn, the more Buddyz Best I drink the better it tastes.
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.
And me? I turn to putty in his arms. I’ve been lost to him for years, but today in a quiet truck, in the middle of a snowstorm, I let myself get lost in him.
“Sunny, you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” “Good,” I murmur against his mouth. “We’ll be insane together. I’m so tired of doing it alone.”
He reads me like a fucking book and then tells me something I’ve longed to hear. “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.
Jasper: I’ll call you from the hotel. We’re all good. Safe. You don’t need to worry. Harvey: Come on. Give me something. One bed or two?
“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.”
He’s done a good job of looking at me like I’m a friend, but he isn’t right now. He’s looking at me like I’m his.
“I’m going to make you come, with his ring on, as one final fuck you to that asshole.
“You might be wearing his ring, but we both know it was my cock you were riding in your head,”
I am one hundred percent out of control, and I hate this feeling. Intrusive thoughts rapid fire into my head, and my walls crumble. Ruining our friendship. Her leaving me. Her hating me.
I might not know his body. I might not have memorized all his tattoos. But I know his heart. I’m intimately familiar with all the pieces of it he’s given to me over the years. But they aren’t enough. I want the rest of it too.
“I feel like I could crumble under the weight of not wanting to disappoint you. I’m paralyzed by my fear of losing you.”
“The thought of needing you this badly and letting you down.” He drops my gaze, shaking his head. “It fucking kills me.” “You’re never going to lose me,” I whisper back, itching to rush forward and touch him but wanting to give him space. I don’t want to corner him or smother him.
“How many times do I need to tell you for you to believe me? Before I get to hear it back?” I shake my head in disbelief at this man I know so damn well, yet not at all. “It’s always been you, Jasper. It will always be you.”
Suddenly I don’t really care about deserving you when it’s so damn clear you belong to me and always have.”
“The real question is, do any of those other people matter when I only ever see you? When I only ever think about you? When I’ve done nothing but become more and more obsessed with you since I was told to stay away from you?”
“Have you really been creeping on me from under that cap?” I shrug and pull her head against my chest. In the same spot I always do—pressing her to my heart and dusting my lips over her hair. “I mean, Sunny . . . have you seen your ass?”
Jasper gives me a flat expression. “I’m not calling your pussy The Stanley Cup Maker, Sunny.”
Jasper: You know what her dickhead of a dad said to me. Beau: Yeah. But that was then. That guy ain’t shit now. You’re Jasper fucking Gervais. Olympic gold medalist. Future Stanley Cup Champion. Sports Illustrated cover model material. Cousin fucker.
“I don’t know. You don’t just break us up. We’re . . . I dunno. We’re bigger than that.” “I mean, if y’all can overlook tail-babies, I’m not sure what could really keep you apart.”
You’re the least scary thing in my life. You’re not just tattooed on my skin. You’re branded on my heart. Woven into the fiber of my being. The most constant and reassuring person in my life.
“You saw me?” I turn my head in, my lips dusting across her forehead. “Yeah. I saw you, Sloane. I noticed you too. Didn’t know what made me look up there that day. Had no clue what it all meant.” “What did it mean?” “That when it comes to you, I’m powerless.”
