Yes, I’ve moved on, too.
And yes, I’m fooling around with Gray.
But the thought of Cross being intimate with somebody else cracks my heart in a million pieces.
“No,” I say stubbornly.
Jasper gives me a look loaded with pity.
Then, before I can blink, he reaches out and curls his hand around the nape of my neck.
“What are—” I start.
“Jas—” Xavier objects.
It’s too late.
I feel his presence in my mind, his energy surging over the telepathy frequency, and then a projection explodes behind my eyes.
But it’s not a normal projection. Those aren’t static images. This is a…memory?
It hits me like a wave, engulfing my senses, rippling in my mind. It’s a strange sensation. A detached observation. I’m not feeling what Jasper felt, but I can see and hear whathesaw and heard, playing out in my head like a film.
He’s approaching a door. Heavy oak, splintered with age. It creaks when he opens it, and his head jerks at the unexpected sight that fills his field of vision.
Cross.
Pulling his shirt on. Dark hair tousled.
A woman lying in bed. Young and pretty, with long hair and flushed cheeks. The sheets only covering half her body, revealing her breasts.
Cross getting up, pants undone.
The woman pulling him down before he can go, pressing her lips to his.
Jasper’s surprised chuckle reverberates in my mind.
“Oops,” his voice drawls in my ear. “Sorry, brother.”
Cross looks sharply toward the door, blue eyes filled with irritation. I know he’s looking at Jasper, but it feels like he’s looking right atme.
I growl and shove Jasper’s hand off my neck. The image of Cross’s face dissolves like a puff of smoke.
“Stop that,” I snap at him. I’m horrified to feel my eyes stinging. “Why the fuck would you do that? Whatwasthat?”
During disclosure, I remember Adrienne asking if I could project what I’d seen in the past, but it wasn’t until this moment that I believed anyone could actually do it. And of all people to past-project, Jasper Reed would be the last one I expected.
“Prick,” Xavier mutters to Jasper.
The smuggler merely shrugs. “It’s better she knows. No sense inpining over the man when he’s getting his dick serviced by someone else.”
Pain stabs into me, but I don’t have time to absorb what happened, because Adrienne returns, addressing me in a sharp voice.
“Say your goodbyes, Darlington. It’s time to go.”
If Adrienne senses something is wrong, she doesn’t comment on it. As she drives us toward our destination, I stare out the window, but all I can see is Cross. Zipping his pants after having sex with somebody else.
I feel devastated, and at the same time angry at myself for feeling that way, because it’s been over for a long time, and I shouldn’t care.
