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“And when will that be?” I ask, because honestly, I’m not ready for him to go home. It has been so nice having him here, having him next to me when I fall asleep at night.
“I don’t know,” he says, not meeting my gaze. “Unless this is your way of telling me that you changed your mind and you want me to fuck off.”
I push away from the door, shaking my head. I decide to just go with the truth. “Nah, Jasper. I’m happy you’re here.”
His cheeks stain red and he rolls his eyes. “Well, I figured. I am very helpful in the kitchen. Those pancakes were healthy ones. I am saving lives here. I still have work to do. Might as well call me Dr. Jasper.”
“Want me to call you that tonight?” I ask softly, and Jasper pushes past me and back into the hallway.
“You better not. And we should go see your mom before it gets too late. And then we have things we need to do. Carter has been messaging.”
I nod, letting him boss me around.
Because yeah, we fucking do. We have so much we need to do.
CHAPTERNINE
Jasper
We visited Bennet’s mom in the morning and he was morose the entire drive back, the weight of the world on his shoulders. I tried to take his mind off of it but was only mildly successful. Sometimes you just need to sit with your grief. Sometimes you can’t just ignore it until it goes away.
I imagine talking about his sisters this morning didn’t really help. I saw the sadness on his face. I know there’s more to it. I’m not an idiot. He’s been keeping a secret all this time in California. That kind of thing eats away at you after a while, when you can’t be who you truly are. Especially when he’s accomplished so much. He can’t share any of that. And he mentioned feeling guilty that he hadn’t been home in a while. I think he’s beating himself up over a lot of things.
When we arrived back at the house, Bennet was pulled into the back room by his nieces and nephews while I was pulled into the kitchen by Kristy, who has really taken a liking to me in her own stern, scary way. I don’t think she means to like me, but she does. I can also wholeheartedly understand Bennet thinking she doesn’t approve. She probably doesn’t. But I don’t think it’s out of cruelness when it comes to her. More control. More needing everything to be in order. She can’t help liking me though, not with the way I can sear a steak. I didn’t practically raise myself to not know how to do these things.
I’m pondering how to sneak some greens into this dinner when Bridgette walks in and says, “Jimbob is heading over now. He just called.”
My gaze narrows and my hand clutches the head of lettuce tighter. I don’t know why I am in a tizzy over this man coming over to visit. I’ve thought about it all day and it’s been bugging me.
He’s just so big and…manly. So unlike me.
Bridgette eyes the lettuce that I’m strangling.
“Might as well just bury that, we won’t eat it,” she teases.
“Like hell you won’t,” I reply and then arch my eyebrow at Bennet’s sister who just bites back a smile, so similar to Bennet that it’s eerie.
“We will just ogle it from the table where it will sit uneaten.”
“You will all try it and you will like it,” I say and then turn my back on her, shredding it with my hands. “So do people normally just show up around here? Do you guys willy-nilly let people just come into your home?”
“Yeah, It’s a Midwest thing. Usually you don’t need an invite, you can just show up. We’ll make room.”
“If you did that in California you’d be arrested for trespassing,” I say and then focus back on the task of making my salad. A head of cauliflower sits beside me.
Kristy moves around next to me, and I grab a blender. Fuckers gonna eat vegetables if it’s the last thing I do. Imma hide it. If they refuse the salad, they’ll at least ingest this somehow.
As I come up with a plan to sneak in the veggies, I hear Bennet shouting in the back of the house, his nieces and nephews squealing in excitement. Yes, it warms my cold heart to hear this. He actually plays with them. It’s nothing like how I was raised, like an accessory or an adornment. I was to be seen but not heard and never an inconvenience.
“Would you make sure Bennet isn’t breaking windows back there,” Kristy tells Bridgette who is washing some dishes in the sink.
“That was one time, Kristy,” Bridgette replies, and Kristy huffs, obviously annoyed from her request being ignored. “He’s not going to break a window again.”
“Care to share? How did this window get broken?” I ask, and Bridgette looks over with a smile on her face.
“Bennet broke a window with a dildo he was using in high school. It shot right out of his hand and broke the glass.”
I peek over at Kristy and see her cheeks redden and I don’t think it’s from restrained laughter. The woman looks horrified, and I think about what Bennet told me earlier today.
