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I park in the lot of the Rosewood Market and head inside, grabbing a cart and pulling up my list as I go. I grab some fruit and vegetables, debate over the chip aisle, and make my way over to the frozen pizza.
I gasp as my cart rams into someone else’s and I look up to see a blast from my past.
“No bruises,” I mumble as I take in Jasper’s perfect face.
I had the biggest crush on him when I was younger and I always thought that I would grow out of being into bad boys.
That’s what Jasper was. The town bad boy. I remember that people used to say that he would be dead or in prison by the time that he turned twenty-five.
Although, I never really understood that. He was always quiet and kind in school. He never bullied anyone, never acted out in class, nothing.
The only thing that gave people the impression that Jasper was a troublemaker were the bruises.
There wasn’t a week that went by where Jasper wasn’t sporting at least one new bruise. I used to wonder who he was fighting but we never got quite close enough for me to feel comfortable asking. I think that everyone in town was shocked when he enlisted right after high school and never came back.
“What was that?” Jasper asks, his grayish-blue eyes studying my face like he’s trying to memorize every detail.
“Nothing! Welcome home,” I say, trying not to grimace at almost being caught.
“Uh, thanks.”
“When did you get back?” I ask as we both move our carts out of the way of Mrs. Shamton.
“Just last night.”
“What brings you back?” I ask, my eyes noticing the scars and his neck and chin and the white bandages on his left arm for the first time. He’s got a five o’clock shadow that is partially covering them and I didn’t see them at first. “Oh my gosh! Are you alright?”
I reach out, trying to do I don’t know what, but I pull my hand back before I can touch him.
“Yeah, I’m fine. The bandage just makes it look bad,” he says with a shrug but I can see him wincing and I know that it must still hurt.
I wonder what happened, but just like when we were kids, I don’t feel close enough to ask him.
“Are you on leave?” I ask.
I know that he was in the military. Last I heard, he was overseas fighting.
“No, I was medically discharged so I’m out.”
“So, you moved back home then?”
“No, my father passed away. I’m here for the funeral and to sell his house.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s alright. It wasn’t really any great loss.”
His words catch me off guard but I sidestep them.
“I haven’t seen your dad in town in a while.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that he’s frequenting places that you have no business being,” he mumbles, his face darkening as he talks about his father.
“Well, it’s still nice to have you back.”
“Thanks. I saw your nursery last night when I got to town. It looks good.”
“Thanks! I’m so excited for the opening. You should come. We’re going to do a raffle and have some food and drinks.”
