“I know.” He exhaled. “And I am so proud of you for that.” He brought my hand up and pressed his mouth to my knuckles, holding it there for a moment. When he lowered it, his eyes were still dark. “And I also want to find him and have a very direct conversation about what it means to stand in someone’s alley in the dark on Halloween night watching her as though she belongs to him.”
“Jasper—”
“I’m not going to,” he said. “But I want to.” He looked at me steadily. “Next time you see him—anywhere, any context—you come and get me. Not because you can’t handle it. Because I want to be standing next to you when you do.”
My throat tightened. “Okay,” I said. “I will.”
He pulled me in then, both arms around me, and I pressed my face against his chest and felt the anger still in him—the controlled, protective kind—and underneath it the warmth that had been there all evening, steady and sure. His hand moved slowly up my back.
“He doesn’t get to do this,” Jasper said quietly, into my hair. “He doesn’t get to stand in your alley and watch your life like it belongs to him. That’s done.”
I didn’t say anything. I just held on and let him mean it.
After, we stayed where we were for a while, and I let myself have it fully—his arms around me, the weight of the evening finally settling, the tight coil of everything I’d been managing since the alley slowly coming undone. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding until I wasn’t holding it anymore. That was what he did. He made it possible to put things down.
I had spent a long time being someone who handled things alone, who squared her shoulders and kept moving, and saved the falling apart for later when no one was watching. And here was this man, solid and warm and entirely present, who had shown up tonight and stayed, and somewhere between the roses and the third round and his mouth pressed to my knuckles in the candlelight, I had stopped bracing for the part where it went wrong.
It hadn’t gone wrong. He was still here. His hand was still moving slowly up my back, and his heart was steady under my cheek, and I thought—not for the first time, and with considerably less terror than the first time—that I was in love with him.
Eventually, I pulled back and looked up at him. “Stay tonight?”
He looked at me for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”
I took his hand, turned off the lights, and we went upstairs together.
Chapter 29
Cara
The days after Mystery Night were quieter. Not in a bad way—more like the natural settling that happens after something important, when the air stops feeling charged and starts feeling lived in. Jasper and I had not talked about Eric again, not directly, though I felt him paying attention in ways he hadn’t before—a hand at my back when we walked anywhere after dark, the way his eyes moved over a room when we entered it together. He didn’t make it heavy. He just did it, without announcement or explanation, and I let him, because it turned out, being looked after by someone who didn’t need you to be grateful about it was something I had not known I was missing until it was simply there.
Tonight was sister night, which meant Twilight Tavern, which meant Paige behind the bar, Lucy with opinions, Piper with her sweet smile, and Eliza holding everyone together without making a fuss about it. Jasper was on the evening shift, which I was pretending was incidental to my good mood and entirely failing at.
I stood in front of the mirror for a long time that evening, trying to decide what to wear. Sister night at the Twilight Tavern had become one of my favorite rituals, but tonight somethingfelt different. With Eric’s lingering presence, the quiet creepiness of his attention, and the way I had kept shrinking myself to avoid conflict, I wanted to feel solid in my own skin. I finally chose a soft black sweater and my favorite jeans, added the scarf Eliza had given me, and slipped in small silver earrings. Simple. Comfortable. Still me—or at least the version of me I was determined to be.
When I walked into Twilight Tavern, the familiar warmth wrapped around me—low light, worn wood, the low hum of conversation, and something slow playing on the jukebox. For a moment, it felt like safety.
Lucy saw me first, and her eyes widened.
“Oh, my god.”
“Don’t start,” I warned, sliding into the booth beside her.
“I’m not saying anything.” She paused for half a second. “Except that you look really good tonight. Extra good. Gorgeous.”
I laughed despite myself. “Thank you. That was almost restrained.”
Eliza lifted her wineglass in silent agreement from across the table. Piper nodded once beside her. Paige, who had just set our drinks down, gave me a slow once-over and said, “Damn, Cara,” before heading back toward the bar.
I felt the flush rise in my cheeks, but let myself settle into the booth. My sisters were already laughing and talking over each other. The candle on the table flickered softly. I was surrounded by the people who knew me best. I should have felt safe.
I had noticed Jasper the moment I walked in. He was behind the bar, and when the door chimed, he looked up and found me instantly. He went still, one hand on the tap, then finished the pour with a small private smile that sent warmth curling low in my stomach. We both knew the rules of sister night—he worked, I sat with my sisters—but the long looks across the room everyfew minutes were enough. More than enough. They reminded me I wasn’t alone.
I was halfway through my second glass of wine, laughing with my sisters, when the bell over the front door chimed again.
Lucy went rigid beside me. “Cara,” she said, her voice tight.
I looked up.
