The bed was made with boring navy blue sheets and a matching duvet, but besides a dresser and the nightstands, there was no other furniture in the room. I slipped back into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, then ran back downstairs to the safety of a communal space.
I wasn’t a snoop, but exploring Jasper’s house made me feel like one and I needed to shake the feelings off. I finished my coffee and collected my guitar, then went to the front porch, taking one of Jasper’s big denim and wool coats off the hook inside the entry way for warmth.
It was cold as balls, but the sun was out, bright rays bouncing off the pristine snow with blinding accuracy. I should have dug my sunglasses out of my bag, but I probably would have looked like a douche, bundled up with one of Jasper’s big coats in the middle of the winter with my sunglasses on. I settled into one of the two rocking chairs on the porch and opened up my guitar case, strumming a few notes with my cold ass hands.
I finally settled into something that sounded halfway passable, then I started to sing. As I always did, I got lost in the words, in the music. In the way the guitar felt like an extension of my body. I closed my eyes, unaware of how loud I’d gotten until I heard heavy bootsteps land on the planks of the porch.
“Not bad,” a voice said, and I started, fumbling my guitar and almost falling out of the rocking chair.
I glanced to my right, finding a man I didn’t recognize standing there with Jasper beside him. Jasper leaned against the side of the house, his arms folded across his chest and an unreadable expression on his face.
“I didn’t know I had an audience,” I muttered, an unexpected blush creeping up my cheeks.
“What can I do for you, Emmett?” Jasper asked the man beside him, his stare still focused on me.
I set the guitar against the porch rail and pulled my hands into the sleeves of Jasper’s coat, tucking against myself.
“Came to check on Gus,” Emmett said.
“You’re a liar.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged, turning to me. “He treat you okay last night?”
I nodded, words trapped in my throat.
“I’m Emmett, if you didn’t put that together.”
“Liam,” I said, taking a breath and giving Emmett a good once-over.
Emmett worries about Jasper but doesn’t want him to know.
Emmett likes Gus.
Emmett is tall.
“He slipped at the bar,” Jasper said, and I winced, embarrassed more than in pain.
“Shit. You all right?”
“Better than.” The memory of Jasper’s fingers against my skin as he set the ice against my hip were forever burned into my brain. “He took really good care of me.”
Jasper’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, a puff of white breath huffing in front of his face. I smirked, but hid it.
“What’s the verdict with the car?” Emmett asked, not noticing the silent exchange.
“Water pump and alternator.” Jasper finally uncrossed his arms, shoving his hands into his pockets. He stepped up onto the porch, closer to me. His stare drifted down to my shoulders and I realized he’d seen that I was wearing his jacket. I clutched it tighter around me, and he sucked in a breath, saying nothing.
“There you go again, Jasper. Talking my ear off,” Emmett said from the stairs.
“Should be fixed by the weekend.”
“Liam, you should come to the bar on Saturday if you’re still here. There’s an open mic night,” Emmett offered, ignoring Jasper’s curt reply.
I looked down, holding the jacket tighter around me. That was basically the point of the road trip, but something about the invitation had me thinking twice. I felt comfortable in Jasper’s house; I didn’t want to feel comfortable in his town. I wasn’t going to be here long, and the point of the road trip was to get away, not to get found.
“Maybe,” I answered.
This wasn’t me. This meek and timid, blushing twink act was not who I was and it was far from who I wanted to be. This whole damn state had me off my game. I was loud and bold and I knew I was a passable guitar player and an above average singer. It wasn’t anything I wanted to make a career out of, but I knew I was good. I didn’t know what it was about Jasper and Emmett that had me so far off the mark.
But then again, I didn’t know why I felt anything around Jasper. He was quiet and closed off, brooding and abrupt, but his hands were somehow rough and tender at the same time. It was like he didn’t want to touch me, but couldn’t stop himself. His eyes were a storm of sadness and hope tangled together.
And I wanted him. Not for keeps, because Vermont wasn’t for keeps, this escape from my life wasn’t for keeps. But just a taste, just one time. I wanted to see what that big, hulking man looked like when he unraveled. When I unraveled him.
I knew it would be a sight.
I cleared my throat and straightened, the jacket slipping off one of my shoulders because it was so huge on me. Jasper reached out and took the collar between two of his fingers, raising it back to my shoulder without a word. Much like the night before with the blankets, but also glaringly different. This touch was calculated and more aware than he’d been on the couch.
“You should come too, Jasper.” Emmett said, stepping backward down the stairs. “Tai would like it.”
“That man of yours,” Jasper muttered.
“Don’t forget, he still thinks you have a nice ass.” Emmett laughed. “I don’t know if I should be jealous.”
“You know better.” Jasper turned away as I settled the guitar on my lap again and strummed a couple chords.
“You’re right. I do.” Emmett’s boots crunched against the snow in the driveway.
Jasper rolled his eyes.
“So, see you on Saturday?” Emmett called up to me.
“What time?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go, but having the invite and the option was nice.
“Eight.”
“If this guy will take me.” I offered up my best smile and batted my lashes up at Jasper. Every second I sat on his porch, my will to not go back to the bar slipped into thin air
“Your car should be fixed by then,” he said.
“Right.” I shrugged and adjusted my fingers against the strings. “Then, yes.”
Emmett went back to his vehicle and backed out of the driveway, leaving Jasper and me alone on the porch. After what felt like an eternity, Jasper cleared his throat.
“That’s my coat,” he said.
“Yeah.” My voice came out scratchy. “It’s cold.”
He made an amused sound and swallowed, the muscles in his throat working. “I ordered the parts for your car.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Not a lot. We’ll sort it out.”
He licked his lips, eyes trailing again over the spot where his jacket landed against my neck.
“Is it okay that I’m wearing your jacket?” I asked.
For a long time, Jasper said nothing, then he nodded.
It wasn’t much, but I could tell it was something. It felt like a monumental concession, and I found myself overwhelmed by it. I didn’t think Jasper was a man who often compromised, so this felt… new, maybe, and special.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move, so I turned my attention back to my guitar and started to pluck at the strings, working my way through a song I’d been writing. Composition was definitely not my strong suit, but it was something I’d started during early mornings in cold hotel rooms to pass the time on my trip.
Jasper shifted his weight and the porch creaked beneath him. He lowered himself down into the other rocking chair, holding tight to the arms. His knuckles were white and his jaw tense. He stared out at the frozen pond and the snow-covered field in front of the house. I played my song, humming under my breath to keep on track, and after awhile Jasper’s knuckles weren’t white, his jaw not so tight.
He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, and I kept playing until the snow on the railing melted and
fell against the porch with a soft, wet plop. And then I played some more. I played until the sun tracked toward the top of the sky and another battered-looking truck rolled into the driveway.
At the sound of tires on gravel, Jasper opened his eyes, looking more put out than I’d ever seen him. He let out a rough sigh and stood up. The chair rocked on its own until the driver of the vehicle got out. He was a reasonably handsome man who almost matched Jasper for size, and when he stomped up onto the porch, they exchanged a look, but no words.
“I’m Devon,” the man said, looking over Jasper’s shoulder at me.
I adjusted my guitar, adjusted Jasper’s coat.
“Liam,” I said, not sure why my voice came out so restrained.
Devon gave me a nod in reply.
Devon doesn’t talk much.
Devon doesn’t like me.
Devon is Jasper’s friend.
I didn’t think I needed to remind myself three things about Devon, because he was pretty unforgettable as far as people in this town went.
“We’ll be in the garage,” Jasper said, then he shoved Devon in the shoulder and followed him off the porch and out of sight.
I understood Jasper had to have friends, even if he struck me as the type who didn’t really want them. It was apparent Emmett was fond of him, and clearly didn’t come to check in on Gus, for whatever reason, since he’d left without even seeing the dog. And now this Devon guy, who looked like he had a well of secrets as deep as Jasper’s.
When it became clear Jasper and Devon weren’t coming back, I returned my attention to my guitar, wondering how big of a mistake stopping in Vermont was going to be.
9
Jasper
Objectively, it had been an enjoyable couple days. It had been three years since I’d had someone in the house, and it still felt weird it wasn’t Michael, but Liam was an unstoppable force. A small but sharp ray of sunshine that flirted and flaunted himself every chance he got. I wanted to say I minded. More than that, I wanted to actually mind. But after so long alone, I had to admit the attention was nice.
“Today’s the day.” Liam’s fingers danced across the small of my back and he wiggled alongside me in front of the coffee pot.
“Saturday?” I asked.
“Open mic night.”
“And your water pump gets here,” I added. It was supposed to have arrived the day before, but the snowstorm had pushed deliveries back. I didn’t mind, though, but I wouldn’t admit that either.
He pushed out his lower lip and reached for the coffee, pouring two cups and taking his straight to the fridge to milk it to death.
“Right.” Liam used his hip to close the door to the fridge, and he turned around to stare at me.
“Where’s your next stop?” I asked.
“New Hampshire.”
I took a drink of my coffee. “And then what?”
“Then down and around and back to California.” Liam pursed his lips and brushed past me down the hallway and into the sitting room. He flopped onto the couch and turned to stare out the window.
I lingered in the doorway, watching him, making note of the way he’d made himself at home in less than two days. I should have moved him up to the spare bedroom, but I hadn’t changed the sheets in who knew how long, and he’d fallen asleep mid-sentence on the couch the nights before. I hadn’t wanted to disturb him. And even though the heater was working again, there was an extra warmth from the stove he seemed to gravitate toward.
Besides, it was only another night or two and he’d be on his way.
He didn’t need to get more comfortable than he already had. Than I already had.
On the couch, in my clothes, with a mug cradled between his hands, he looked like he could belong in a place like Vermont, in a place like my house, but…
I cleared my throat and returned to the chair I’d always favored, settling in and following his stare out toward the pond, no longer frozen over.
“Tell me about California,” I said, partly a question, partly not.
“It’s…” He gave me a crooked smile. “California.”
“What’s it like?”
“Nothing like this.” Liam laughed and gave me a quick look, his cheeks flushed pink. “Not as many trees. Not as much space.”
“I thought there were palm trees everywhere.”
“No.” He scrunched his nose and raised the mug to take a drink, but didn’t. “There are palm trees like in the sidewalks all around my school, but nothing like this.”
His attention drifted back to the field outside the window, and he stared out in silence. I stared at him, and I think he knew it, but he didn’t let on.
“What about school?” I asked.
The faint smile that had set on his mouth dipped into a noticeable frown, and he looked away, using the mug to shield his expression. He didn’t answer, and I got the distinct impression he wasn’t going to, but I hadn’t been forthcoming with him either about Michael, so I let it slide.
“Never mind,” I told him, standing up and twisting my wedding band around my finger. Gus stood up too, shaking off his sleep. The tags on his collar clanged, and Liam looked down at him. “I’m going to take Gus out.”
“Jasper,” Liam said, but his voice was quiet and I could tell from the tone he didn’t really want me to stop. I knew the tone. I’d used it myself for years to get out of conversations I didn’t really want to have.
“It’s fine.” I waved him off as I opened the front door.
Gus bolted off the porch and into the field in a flash, kicking up the remaining chunks of snow as he went. I eased down into one of the rocking chairs and watched him run around, barking at squirrels and leaves. After a few minutes, Liam came out with his guitar and he took the second chair, strumming a few chords with fingers so red and cold they looked like they would fall off.
“Practicing for tonight?” I asked, keeping my attention on the bird tormenting my dog around the far side of the pond.
“I don’t know why I’m nervous about it,” he said.
Gus danced around the edge of the pond, barking in delight when his paws splashed into the water.
“I don’t either,” I told him, and he laughed, clapping his hand over the mouth of the guitar and silencing the strings.
“Fair enough.” Liam strummed again.
“Unless… unless you’re trying to be impressive,” I hedged.
He paused, but continued plucking out the chords he’d been playing for the past two days. I recognized them now, a gentle and sort of sad lilt to the way they carried the tune of whatever song he always hummed under his breath.
“Who would I be trying to impress?” Liam looked up at me, blinking a few times and not saying another word. His cheeks were still flushed from the cold, but also maybe from something else. I didn’t dare guess, but the recognition left me feeling embarrassed. I reached up and covered my ears with my hands, the tips of them scalding hot.
“Gus!” I hollered, and the dog ran back toward the porch.
“I like it when you’re bold,” Liam said, before returning his attention to the guitar.
I grunted, unsure of how I felt about being called out, and let Gus into the house. Being bold wasn’t who I was. Michael had been bold. Liam was bold. Not me. Gus scampered up the stairs and into the laundry room, where he munched loudly on his food. I took the break to refill my coffee and wander into the garage, putting as much space between Liam and me as I could.
I closed the door behind me and pressed my back against it, taking silent stock of the Mustang. It was ridiculous the car wasn’t put together and running. Sitting in pieces in the same place for almost half my life.
I sighed, taking a drink of the coffee that quickly neared room temperature. If this car wasn’t a representation of my entire life, I didn’t know what was. Revolving around Michael, put on hold because of Michael, rusting and rotting… maybe not because of Michael, but because of me.
“I’ll start tomorrow,
” I promised myself, backing out of the garage and locking the door behind me. “Tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?”
Liam’s voice from the kitchen startled me and I jumped, coffee sloshing out of my mug and down the front of my shirt.
“Shit,” I muttered, shaking drops of coffee off my hand and setting the mug on the edge of the counter.
“I’m so sorry,” Liam apologized, coming toward me.
I moved to pull my shirt over my head at the same time he reached to pat it dry, but a second too late. The shirt was halfway over my head when Liam’s fingers connected with my stomach. I barely registered the touch at first, only a soft press of the pads of his fingers, but momentum carried him forward and his hand slid until his palm pressed flat against my abs.
We both stilled, and I looked down at the place where he touched me. Shit, how long had it been since someone had touched me? I knew the answer before I’d even asked the question.
“Liam,” I said, voice rough.
He licked his lips, but didn’t take his hand away. Liam looked up at me through the blond fan of his eyelashes and slipped his hand around, letting his fingers curl around my waist. I didn’t dare move, but I could feel my breath sticking and catching in my throat as I struggled to stay cool.
Liam’s touch… it didn’t feel right, but it felt important, and as soon as that clicked into place, what had once been a big hole in my chest—that I’d whittled down into something small and manageable—threatened to expand and consume me whole. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his hand, at first unable to find the strength to move him.
He flexed his fingers beneath mine, the sharp edges of his fingernails gouging into my skin, and that was what did it. A familiar bite of pain that I hadn’t even thought about in years sent me flying back. My shoulders connected with the door to the laundry room that I hadn’t fully closed, and one misstep off the stairs had me flat on my ass with a hand in Gus’s water bowl.
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